The Hardest Lesson I’ve Learned – Cristian A. Collazo
Last month Janicé Myers of Iron Forest posted on Facebook a heartfelt essay on the wildfire written by her son Cristian. I have posted her Facebook message below followed by his essay as it is full of meaning for all of us who lived through the disaster. Click Janicé’s Facebook post below to visit her post on the BR Bulletin Board and see the reactions from the community.
The Hardest Lesson I’ve Learned
By Cristian A. Collazo
As far as the eye could see, stood towering, lush and green old growth trees. The forest floor dotted with ferns and wild native plants call for you to inhale slow and deep its sweet and earthy scent. A breeze brings in the cool air off the winding river as it crashes against the rocks, so gentle yet so powerful at the same time. This is the place I call home.
In the winter of 2017 my parents made an investment and purchased a plot of land located along the McKenzie River in Oregon. Where most people saw a patch of overgrown blackberry vines, a cabin with a sagging front porch and a century old barn about to cave in, they saw true beauty that need to be shared with others. This started the grand adventure of Iron Forest and some of my most cherished memories. During the next year our family spent countless hours pouring time, energy, creativity and love into building a place that would bring families together. Old bricks that had been found and dug up from this land where hand laid and now built a path to the porch, which welcomed you into a very special place. Upon walking through each room you could tell that every detail inside the house was carefully chosen and placed with care and purpose. Not a floor board was unpolished and not a corner had dust so that every guest that rented the Cabin had the most relaxing and special environment possible.
So many people fell in love with our diamond in the mountains, that soon, folks began asking to have their weddings there. When my mom brought this idea up to my stepdad Art, he replied, “I want our wedding to be the first one on this property.” At the time they purchased this property my parents were dating and not yet married. I knew how special Iron Forest truly was when I saw that Art had built the wedding arch they would exchange their vows under. It was a simple alter made of logs, nestled in a bed of ferns with the backdrop of the forest scattered with Cedar, Dour Fir and Maple trees. Little did we know that this was going to be the first of many marriages on this land.
Throughout the next several years, Iron Forest become known as a place to make lasting memories. All of this changed on a Monday, September 7th, 2020. When I was at the Lake with my father and dog enjoying the day, the sun was out glistening its rays against the water. Suddenly a dark shadow started to roll in and immediately in my heart I could feel something was wrong but I didn’t know what. Within seconds it started snowing which confused me because this was summertime. I watched as one of the flakes slowly drifted down from the sky and landed on my bare shoulder. Breathing in a slow draw through my nose I picked up the scent of charcoal and burnt wood. Instantly I knew – this was ash floating through the sky which meant there was a forest fire somewhere.
I was startled by the sound of my phone ringing. When I answered, I heard my moms voice, “I need to let you know, there is a fire near Iron Forest and as of right know we don’t know how bad it is.”
“Is everyone OK? Did you get any of our things out? What about Brian and our neighbors? Is Takodas Ok? ” I tried to control my shaking voice.
“We don’t know much Cristian. Art and I will let you know what happens once we find out exactly what is going on.” Although my mom tried to hide her fear, I could tell she was as scared as I was; maybe even more.
Ranking among one of the largest fires in Oregon history, the Holiday Farm Fire burned through Blue River, Finn Rock, Nimrod and Vida claiming over 700 homes and businesses and 173,393 acres. Sadly, Iron Forest was one of its casualties. It was weeks before I stepped foot onto the property and saw the devastation. As I rode up the mountain for the first time since the fire the scenery changed almost instantly from a lush green forest to a black, ashy wasteland full of smoke leaving a bad taste in my mouth. I was worried and thought of each person in our community as I passed house after house laying in a pile of rubble and smoke. Are they going to be ok? Where are they going to stay? Did everyone survive? I was hurt deeply. I was angry. I was overwhelmed with sadness.
I stepped out of the truck and found myself standing in a pile of ash. All the memories of the people I had met, all the relationships that I had formed and all the things I had learned on this land flood into my head all at once. I almost dropped to the ground on my knees and wept. I tried my hardest not to because I didn’t want to show this emotion in front of Art and my mom because I wanted to be strong for them as I could see the grief on their faces. It was then that I realized I had taken this beautiful place for granted.
One year later this community is still trying to recover and pull itself together. All through this I have learned no matter what tragedy and no matter what hardship you can get through this thing we call life. The key is having faith in yourself and being able to rely on others. Most importantly I learned that even though this fire took our home and business, what it could never take from me are the memories had here and the lessons I’ve learned. Do you know what it else it couldn’t take? The wedding alter. It still stands nestled in a bed of regrown ferns, waiting for the next couple to grace it’s presence.
