Personal Stories Drawn From the Fire Lines : THE SOUTHLAND FIRESTORM: THE BATTLE GOES ON : Saddle Peak: ‘It’s Going to Look Like Hell Tomorrow’

The firestorm hit us like a hurricane.

Dan and Diana Gonzalez’s home on a Saddle Peak promontory had been barely spared earlier in the afternoon when a fire raced past with eye-stinging heat, scorching the brushy hillside only 15 feet away. Now it was coming back.

I had followed the smoke from the Fernwood area early that afternoon and decided to stop at Saddle Peak, a hilltop of spacious homes and a full-circle view that takes in the San Fernando Valley, Downtown Los Angeles, the Pacific Ocean and the canyons below. On Tuesday, much of the view was fire on all sides.

As darkness approached, firefighters warned the Gonzalezes that the shifting fires threatened their hill. But the couple was determined to stick it out. Diana, a contractor, had built the million-dollar house.

Their wait would make for good drama. And I’d be able to use their phone. So I stayed too.

Diana lighted a candle and kerosene lamp. Dan offered me a glass of red wine and videotaped the planes dropping fire retardant into the smoke below. They were only a quarter-mile away.

“It looks like it’s going to be a very long night,” said Dan, an electronic engineer.

The couple’s 25-year-old son, Paul Cisneros, calmed their jittery Doberman, Raider.

Half an hour later, there was no fire. I thought of moving on. Impatient for the story.

Then the hill below exploded.

Two firefighters warned the family to leave, saying the fire would be a monster when it came over the top--right where my car was parked.

But as long as the firefighters were staying, so were the Gonzalezes. The wall of fire roared over the crest, 100 feet from the house. A crew was set to hose the house if it ignited. My mouth was impossibly dry.

Every window had the same view: a bright orange glow and blizzard of embers.

The front window started to crack. The place filled with smoke. Raider whined. The fire captain’s radio crackled a report of a crew in trouble nearby. A smoke alarm went off.

Then it was over. After three minutes. Firefighters huddled next to a truck outside said the 150-foot flames had arched right over the house. Stucco with a tile roof, it was unscathed.

Dan checked the attic for embers. Diana looked out through the darkness at the charred hillside, twinkling orange. “It’s going to look like hell tomorrow,” she said. The firefighters moved on.

Two hours later, I did too. It was an eerie drive down the peak. Fallen rocks and burning logs made for an obstacle course. My Honda crept under power lines that dangled eight feet above ground. A new blaze threatened to close Mulholland Highway.

When I finally reached the Ventura Freeway, I could have kissed it.