An Open Love Letter to the OV-10 Bronco

When I was 3 years old, I remember my mom bundling me up and driving us out to a ridge where I sleepily watched the sunset. Overhead, airplanes buzzed in a ceaseless stream.

It wasn’t a sunset. The glow on the horizon was the 1992 Gulch Fire, and we were watching it from the hilltop because it was marching steadily toward our home.

The California Department of Fire saved our house that night, but fire has always been a looming specter in the California foothills. Every so often I’ll hear the buzz of motors, look up, and see the distinctive silhouette of the CDF Bronco and wonder if doom is on the horizon once more.

Air Attack 460, A CDF Bronco scout plane. Photo by Alan Radecki and shared under a Creative Commons Share Alike license.

There’s a series of books by Anne McCaffrey called The Dragonriders of Pern. In it, the world is threatened by a vile, threadlike parasite that falls from the sky and devours any organic matter with which it comes into contact. Dragon riders patrol the skies, burning the thread off with their breath and defending the people below.

The Dragonriders of Pern

This story has always resonated with me—the vigilant guardians above, watching over us, keeping us safe from a looming horror. I’ve had the privilege of getting to know a man who grew up in London and was one of the children evacuated to Oxfordshire during the Blitz of World War II. I imagine he felt something like that, watching the Spitfires roar overhead.

About two months ago, ash began to fall on our home in the Central Valley, reminiscent of the all-consuming thread in Anne McCaffrey’s books. Our home was nearly 50 miles from the fire, well out of harm’s way, but our oldest family friends were in imminent danger. We drove up to San Andreas to meet them, and amongst the refugees we watched the towering plume of smoke underlit by conflagration, helicopters and tankers and Broncos above us, charging toward the fire.

A CDF S-2 Defending a home on September 9th. Photo taken from Air Attack 440, a CDF Bronco scout plane.

It was days before we made it back in. When we did, we found that the house my Dad had moved to California over 30 years ago to help build was gone.

Photo of Spring Gulch Ranch, by me.

Sifting through the rubble, all we found of our old Parkzone Radian was its motor core. A few days ago, our new Radian came in the mail. We put a new Mobius on it and took it up to survey the area.

The ranch on which the house stood, our unofficial flying field, is 250 acres. 50% of that was comprehensively destroyed, with nothing but blackened sticks remaining of the forest. Another 40% was burnt to the point that it’s doubtful if any of the trees will recover. Only 10% of the forest escaped.

The Aftermath. For a comparison to what it looked like before, see this video.

Our friends were lucky—they’re well insured. Many who lost everything in the Butte Fire will not be able to rebuild. Two people lost their lives. But on the site of the house my father helped build before he met my mother, I will help build the new house. The forests will regrow, and we’ll gradually replace all that was lost, including the RC planes.

And as we’re out flying the FT Bronco that will undoubtedly be a part of that stable, We’ll occasionally have to land to clear airspace for the real Broncos, scouting above us,  keeping us safe from the next fire that threatens all we hold dear.