3 Minute Read

Prashyant Jha

Medihertz

Fires Near Me: Trabuco Canyon Airport Blaze Expands to 1,900 Acres, Evacuations Ordered in Rancho Santa Margarita

It was a Monday afternoon, September 9, 2024, when I first noticed the smoke rising in the distance near Trabuco Canyon. By the time I realized what was happening, the brush fire, now known as the Airport Fire, it had already grown to 1,900 acres. In the beginning, It all started around 1:30 p.m. along Trabuco Creek Road, not far from the Trabuco Flyers Club, where people usually gather to fly their radio-controlled planes.

At first, it seemed small—just 7 acres burned by 2 p.m.—but within hours, it had ballooned out of control. The flames, carried by light wind gusts, spread quickly into the brush and crept closer to homes.

It wasn’t long before I heard that the fire had triggered evacuation orders for parts of Rancho Santa Margarita, including areas around Rose Canyon Road and Trabuco Oaks Drive.

I kept thinking about the people living there, especially when I heard the Orange County Sheriff’s deputies were going door to door, informing residents about the evacuation orders. I couldn’t imagine what it must be like to have to pack up your life at a moment’s notice.

I pictured families scrambling to decide what to take—important documents, photos, maybe a few keepsakes—and trying to figure out where to go.

Around 3 p.m., the situation became more urgent. Residents along Meander Lane were ordered to leave, and soon after, evacuations expanded to Robinson Ranch Road, Shadow Rock Lane, and the nearby O’Neill Regional Park.

My heart sank thinking about the families forced to leave their homes behind and the uncertainty they faced.

I learned that those who chose to stay were required to sign a “refusal to evacuate” notice, acknowledging that it was now a misdemeanor to ignore the evacuation order. The authorities made it clear that if residents didn’t leave, they might not be able to count on emergency services later.

As I kept an eye on the updates, I couldn’t help but think about the nearby schools. Two elementary schools—Robinson and Trabuco—announced they would cancel classes for the next day. It made sense, given the conditions, but I knew it would throw many families into a state of chaos.

The Saddleback Valley Unified School District said classes would hopefully resume on Wednesday, depending on the fire’s progress. Other districts, like Capistrano Unified and Irvine Unified, planned to stay open for the time being.

Later that evening, I drove down to the area where road closures had been put in place: Plano Trabuco Road, Robinson Ranch Road, Antonio Parkway, and a few other key intersections were all shut down.

I passed by a Smart & Final parking lot that was packed with cars. People stood outside, craning their necks to watch the fire as it crawled up the ridge. The atmosphere was tense, but there was also a strange sense of stillness, like everyone was waiting for the next move.

I remember seeing Lake Forest residents Lizeth Juarez and Javier Campos sitting at the Lake Forest Sports Park with their dog, watching the fire through binoculars. The flames were climbing the hills, and the sight was heartbreaking.

Lizeth said something that really stuck with me: “We can’t even imagine the impact this has on nature—it’s horrible.” She was right. As devastating as it was for people, I kept thinking about the wildlife and the natural landscape that would take years, if not decades, to recover.

Later, I met Roxana Subiran and Ivette Puente, who had come to watch the flames too. Roxana’s best friend lived in one of the evacuation zones and was struggling to decide what to take.

I could only imagine the stress of making those decisions. When Roxana asked, “What do you grab, what do you do?” Ivette simply replied, “Nothing, just run.” That raw honesty hit me hard—sometimes there’s no good answer in these situations.

Evacuation shelters were quickly set up to help those displaced by the fire. One was at the Rancho Santa Margarita Bell Tower Regional Community Center, and two more shelters were set up for animals—one at the Orange County Fair Grounds and another at a Ralphs parking lot.

I spoke with Sherry Fankhauser, who lives on Meander Lane. She and her family had been packed and ready to leave for hours. “It got really scary for a while,” she said, explaining how the fire had crept dangerously close to their neighborhood before shifting direction.

Firefighters were going door to door, helping residents secure their propane tanks, while thick black and brown smoke hung over the ridge. Even though she couldn’t see the flames, the fear of the unknown was palpable.

Around the same time, I met Brandon Smith, who had just returned from a vacation with his family in Lake Havasu. He watched the fire from the bed of his truck, unsure whether they’d need to evacuate.

His neighbors were already packing up, but Brandon seemed calm, saying they’d wait it out for a bit longer before deciding whether to leave. He was even planning to head out on his e-bike to grab dinner—an attempt at normalcy amidst the chaos.

As the fire raged on, I saw firefighters battling the blaze with everything they had—engine strike teams, hand crews, bulldozers, helicopters, and aircraft dropping retardant over the flames.

I learned that the OCFA’s new Firehawk helicopters were part of the effort. It was comforting to know that such a large and coordinated response was underway, but the cause of the fire was still under investigation.

No injuries had been reported, which was a relief, but as I watched the smoke billowing into the sky and saw the exhausted faces of those forced to flee their homes, it was clear that this fire had taken a heavy toll on everyone in its path.

As I drove away from the area, I couldn’t stop thinking about the resilience of the community—the people who came together to help their neighbors, the firefighters risking everything to protect homes and lives, and the uncertainty that still lay ahead.