He heard constant news reports about the oncoming fires, but Chris Hubbard wasn’t worried. Although there were two blazes near his California university — one 10 miles south and the other 10 miles east — experts said firefighters would contain those blazes. His university, California State University of San Bernardino, was in no danger.

He was the victim of a bad miscalculation.

Hubbard, junior in journalism and mass communication, is spending his fall semester in California through the National Student Exchange program.

On the morning of Oct. 25, Hubbard woke up to a knock on his door. His resident assistant told him there was a fire in the area and he might have to evacuate. At first, Hubbard didn’t believe him.

“The fires weren’t supposed to come this way, were they?” Hubbard thought. Since his bedroom window didn’t face the oncoming fires, he suspected nothing.

Then he walked out of his bedroom and looked out the living room window. What Hubbard saw, he described as utterly surreal: a 30-foot wall of flames coming toward his doorstep.

The rush to evacuate

The decision was made for Hubbard as soon as the police arrived. They issued an evacuation order, telling everyone to get off the campus as fast as they could. His roommates didn’t have much time to sort through their valuables and decide what to take and what would burn.

Neither did Hubbard. He grabbed his computer, clothes and toothbrush in one armload and ran down to his car. As he stepped outside he was greeted with a thick cloud of brown and black smoke coming from the approaching inferno.

The fire wasn’t advancing as quickly as it seemed, giving Chris enough time to pile everything he had in his car. There were so many things packed into the back of his seat, he couldn’t see out of the rearview mirror. He didn’t need to — Hubbard knew exactly what was behind him.

Hubbard walked through the parking lot with the Santa Ana winds blowing ash into his eyes at 70 miles per hour. He jumped into his car and drove away from the flames with no destination in mind.

The fire moved toward the campus, while the San Bernardino Fire Department attempted to divert the fire around the school.

The scene was like a war zone. As smoke filled the air, planes and helicopters flew overhead, dropping water and fire retardant. The only sound heard was the deafening sound of sirens from fire trucks, which were waging a front-line battle against the flames.

Because of re-routed highways, the freeway Hubbard merged onto was at a complete standstill. Since he wasn’t in any danger of the fire, Hubbard put his car into park and began to think. His first thought was where he would sleep that night.

After stopping at several hotels filled with evacuees and no vacancies, he found a co-worker from Starbucks who lived 10 miles south of the fires. Hubbard wasn’t allowed to return to California State for three days — all roads leading back to his college were closed.

Hubbard said he spent those three days imagining the worst. A thousand “What ifs” were running through his head: “What if the whole school burns down? Does that mean I won’t get credit for the semester? Will I have to postpone graduation? What if my roommate was unable to get out before the ordered evacuation? What if …”

Rumors trickled down to Riverside about the different buildings on campus burned to the ground. Hubbard said he thought the rest of the fall quarter would be canceled and he would move back to Iowa.

He hoped most of the rumors were false.

Pitching in to help

Hubbard sat in his friend’s apartment for a few days waiting in limbo, knowing nothing about the fate of his university. He didn’t know what to do, but he knew he had to do something.

Hubbard decided to take action and discovered opportunities to help victims like himself. He volunteered with the Red Cross relief efforts at the San Bernardino airport where evacuees were housed in an airplane hangar. Cots spread out from one side of the hangar to the other, filled with those who had lost their homes.

The area looked like housing for refugees of a war. As the families waited in the relief center, they could see the fires — which were destroying their homes at that moment — through the hangar’s giant windows. A mental health booth was set up to assist victims struggling mentally and emotionally.

The evacuees’ lives weren’t totally devoid of comfort, however. The victims were provided food that made the relief center feel like the set of a movie, eating donated meals from Starbucks, Outback Steakhouse, Domino’s Pizza and McDonald’s.

“Only in California are disaster victims treated so well,” Hubbard said.

As he helped with relief efforts, other Californians found their own way to help victims. Some people took more drastic measures. A couple Hubbard met took extreme measures — they waged a private battle against the flames.

As the fires swallowed up Southern California towns, the couple drove to neighborhoods helping strangers evacuate their homes. They found houses dangerously close to the flames and helped families’ evacuate by throwing their possessions into the back of their truck and taking them to the relief center.

They also stopped oncoming fires by using shovels to smother small fires and tearing down fences to prevent them from burning. Knocking them down allowed the family’s pets to escape. Dogs and cats left behind by their owners were running wild in the streets.

As Hubbard worked with evacuees, he heard word that the highways had reopened, allowing him to return to his campus. He would see how extensive the damage on campus really was.

The aftermath

After returning, Hubbard discovered the firefighters had successfully diverted the flames. Only a few buildings had noticeable damage, with most buildings repaired and reopened by the time he returned.

He then apprehensively returned to his apartment, and he found there was not much damage. Most buildings, including his own, were cleaned and reopened.

While the prognosis was positive, the university didn’t escape without battle wounds. Several trees on the perimeter of campus were reduced to smoldering stumps. They looked like 20 foot-burnt matches, Hubbard said.

In addition, the fires altered the mood on campus. More than 550 homes were destroyed in San Bernardino, including the homes of Hubbard’s classmates. Those who hadn’t lost their homes were connected to people who had.

The fires also changed the way students dressed. While air quality warnings advised people to stay indoors, those who ventured on campus wore breathing masks and sunglasses to block the lingering ash.

Before the fires, the San Bernardino smog-filled air made Hubbard short-winded after extended periods of exercise. After the fires, the smoke and ash-filled air made Hubbard short-winded after walking to class.

The fires are gone, but the danger isn’t over. If rain comes, the scorched land with no vegetation is vulnerable to mudslides. Hubbard doesn’t worry about that, thanks to the flat ground on which his apartment is situated.

While he will try to enjoy the rest of the semester, Hubbard wants to come home more than ever.

“In a state with fires, mudslides, earthquakes and Arnold Schwarz-enegger for governor, I’ll be glad to get back to the state … where the air is pure and sweet,” he said.