Return to Artana: ash in the houses and hugs in the streets

ArtanaIt's three o'clock and we've just made paella with my father in Borriana. Sara and I look at each other and decide that the moment has arrived, both longed for and feared, to head towards Artana and see with our own eyes what our home is like and how burnt the surroundings are. Artana has been, along with Eslida, the town in the Espadà mountain range that has suffered the longest evacuation: a week, from Saturday midday to Friday night. Today is Saturday and we think most of the inhabitants will have returned by now. Although the start of the fire caught us away, we've spent all week talking to friends and neighbours, and that's why we know the houses are okay. But we're afraid of what we'll find. It's one thing to see it on TV and another to see it for yourself.

And indeed, television doesn't capture even 10% of the sensory effect of a burnt landscape. To begin with, you miss the smell of burning, which permeates everything, and you miss both the 360-degree perspective and the detail of the burnt trees seen up close and the ash accumulated on the ground. This is the scene that greets us at the entrance to the CV-223 road. Despite the cliché, the word that best describes it is desolate. And then you remember the stories of neighbours who, when trying to reach the motorway, were turned back by the Civil Guard because the flames were by the roadside. And so close to the road! From the car, you can almost touch some olive trees, if not millennia-old, certainly centuries-old, which have been reduced to a black carcass.

When we arrive in town, no one can be seen in the streets, surely due to the 33 degrees marked by the car's thermometer. We park in front of the house and first of all I'm going to see how everything is. Fortunately, I only have the patio full of ash and the house smells of smoke, but nothing else. Everything else is in order. In the street, we then meet our neighbor Rosa, a true survivor for whom doctors have not given a penny on more than one occasion, but she lives to contradict diagnoses. She explains that she had a very bad time during the evacuation because her children were no longer allowed to enter the town to look for her and she was worried about the house. It is difficult to put oneself in the shoes of an elderly woman with mobility problems who sees the neighbors leaving the street while she has to wait for an ambulance. In the end, everything went well and Rosa was able to meet her children in Nules.

Housed in second residences

On the short walk I take through the village to park the car, I see several groups chatting and hugging. Ximo sees me pass and gives me the OK sign with his hand from afar while shouting: "Everything okay?". I reply that yes and that we will see each other shortly. He explains to me that he decided to spend these days in a hotel of an acquaintance. "It hasn't been a vacation because we were worried, but we've been very well and the hotel staff have been wonderful," he tells me. He is not the only one who has opted for this option, but most of our acquaintances have been hosted in friends' houses or empty second homes. It should be noted that in Castelló it is very typical to have a second residence, which can range from an apartment on the beach to a modest country farmhouse, very close to the first one, so there is a lot of housing availability in emergency situations like this.

I also meet Esteban Soriano, whom we follow on Instagram and these days we were hooked on his videos in which he explained the situation of the town and, especially, of his chickens. This is a reality of the town that has emerged strongly these days. Our neighbours Blai and Vicent, for example, have hunting dogs at home, and they had to find a place in the countryside to take them. Other hunters like José Antonio or Vicente had to ask permission from the Civil Guard to be able to go and bring them food, and they didn't always get it.

Returning home, it's time for cleaning. Between the broom and the vacuum cleaner, I opt for the latter, but it soon gets blocked. The water hose is the best solution. While I'm spraying, I hear helicopters passing overhead and then I realize the fire is not yet extinguished. I also realize that I haven't gone up to the top terrace to see the panorama. I don't feel like it at all, but I know I can't delay it any longer. The impact is brutal. Simply put, there is no longer any forest, just a black, gray, and brown mass. I take the usual photos and think about all the people I still have to call. Among them, that family from Eslida who made delicious goat cheeses and had their farm in the middle of the mountain. They are called La Caseta d'Espadà. Will they have survived?