Our place on Front Street was situated in a perfect spot close to Baby Beach, a short walk from Lahaina Town. A good friend had acquired a beach cottage that had been owned by a single family for over a century. It started with a promise to restore it to the original cottage style where the charm and history would remain. Our small group of family and friends worked on the property for eighteen months, replacing every piece, board by board. This was going to be our beach house, our surf station, our retreat for years to come.

The project became a labor of love as the original house evolved into a modern work of art, in a neighborhood with a rich history. Many of our neighbors had been there for decades, and walked by every day on the way to and from Baby Beach. They would praise our work and loved that the original look was being preserved. Some had known the original family owners and were giving them reports of our progress, and would bring us ice cream on hot days in the sun. It was a caring and family-oriented community.

Lahaina was a fascinating place to live. So many local families owned and operated the various businesses and lived throughout the area. They would populate the beach parks on the weekends with BBQ’s and birthday parties. They lived in these neighborhoods for generations. The history of the town brought a steady stream of tourism daily, but it was so much more than a tourist attraction.

I was happy, I was living the dream.

Tuesday, August 8th, 2023: The Day of the Fire

(disclaimer: all times are estimated based on a few photos with timestamps)

5 a.m.–stormy night – power out (never to return)

9 a.m. – reports of poles snapped

11 a.m. – run out for supplies–nothing open–roads are grid locked

12 noon – run the refrigerator off the truck inverter–survival mode–wait it out

3:45 p.m. – first signs of smoke up the hill–no sirens–no emergency warning–north bound Front Street is backing up into town. The traffic problem had grown.

4 p.m. – people on foot pulling luggage down the street–traffic heavy–smoke above increasing–no sirens–no emergency warnings

4:15 p.m. – burning ashes landing in the yard and on the house–using garden hose to wet down the house, truck, yard–smoke in the air–no sirens–no emergency warnings–still believing this fire will be contained–it won’t come this far

4:30 p.m. – the smoke was getting thick–wind was intense – funnel cloud in the street – heat hit in waves–no more water – realization that this was happening–time to leave–now–Front Street is a two-lane parking lot heading north–people honking and screaming–no sirens–no warnings

4:45 p.m. – it became very dark, very hot, very fast–orange balls of debris falling all around the yard–grab what you can–jump on a bike and ride–north on Front through the stack of cars, in and out, doors open, people running and screaming–all roads blocked around the Canary–head straight into the black cloud–there was no air–a barrage of debris hitting me from the right as the wind pushed me left–ash in my eyes–I cannot see–power lines across the road–just keep going

60 minutes from first signs of smoke I emerged from the black cloud at the Chart House and didn’t look back until I reached Wahikuli Park.

5 p.m. – The entire town was billowing smoke. People that had abandoned their cars began to arrive at the park on foot, carrying whatever they had.

6 p.m. – check every resort in Kaanapali–no vacancy

6:30 p.m. – secure a room at the Whaler Condo tower–emergency power only–no communications–safe–for now

8 p.m. – watch Lahaina burn and explode–hoping they stop it before it reaches here

The night was black, no street lights, only the police red / blue lights flashing as they scanned the neighborhoods for fires, firetrucks working the dirt road fire break up the mountain to stop the fire before it reached Kaanapali.

Wednesday, August 9th, 2023: The Day After

9 a.m. – ride back to town–I need to see – retrace my steps–was there anything left?–the area on Front from the bend to the Canary looked like a war zone–I was afraid to ride through in the day light – turn around go back to the highway–the church is still there, looks cut in half–Canary is untouched–maybe it will be there

9:30 a.m. – arrive at the house–complete devastation–nothing but dust–neighbor pulls up–her husband never left–look to his house–dust–no words

Thursday, Aug. 10, 2024: Return to society

8:30 a.m. – announcement–the road is open for EM vehicles & buses arriving at Whaler’s Village–catch a ride

In the days after the fire, I was in shock, dismay, unable to process what had just happened. Everything was gone, the entire town was gone. The immediate needs are obvious. When it thought of something I needed, it led me though a trail of thoughts to the room, to the cabinet, to the drawer, which is not there. A very simple mental process that now had a glitch. Very strange indeed.

The loss of material things is difficult, but passes fairly soon. Things get replaced, or maybe you never needed them anyway. An experience like this renders things less important. The place we built, the labor of love, is a deeper loss and will remain for a while. The loss of friends and neighbors, community, place, is deeper still, and may never be fully healed.

Every single soul on island that day was affected by the event, and the community was amazing. With all my heart I want to thank everyone who helped any of us in any way. Mahalo to those who gave food, clothing, shelter, transportation, time, and treasure. Those who sacrificed so much. To the shop clerk who swiped his card before I could.

Mahalo to the staff at the Whaler. When I rode up there were people unloading their luggage from their convertible just arriving from the airport, with no idea what was happening. The lobby and grounds were crowded with people in their sunny beach best. I had been working in the yard, old cap, old t-shirt, old shorts, old sandals, covered in dirt and black soot, and I probably smelled like a kid returning from summer camp.

The look on the staff’s faces, well … Just then someone came up and told them that their neighborhood was on fire, their house was on fire. They returned to me and searched frantically through a pile of papers, no computers, no phones. They handed me a key and said, this is the only one, and it is a maybe. Try it, and come back if someone is there. The entire staff stayed and worked tirelessly for two days. Mahalo!

I lift up prayers for those who are victims of this horrible event. For those that lost things, for those that lost homes, for those that lost businesses, jobs, and every other physical need. For those in a struggle to keep their property. And especially for those who lost loved ones, that lost life, I lift you up.

Stefen said, “Most of all, I thank God, His Son Jesus Christ, His Spirit Who is with me always, the Angels, and the Saints. I am thankful for His promises, His provision, His protection, and His preparation. He promises to be with me always, and He was. He promises to provide for me, and He did. He promises to protect me, and His Angles carried me through the fire and shielded me from harm. There is no other way I made it through the fire zone without a scratch.”

That room at the Whaler was the last room in town. Many people slept outside on benches or wherever they could. The ride from the village, there were hundreds of people in line. No buses had arrived. I prayed to get out that day. Two minutes later a man walks up right in front of me and says he has room to town. His car was parked past the beginning of the line. He walked past them all and stopped directly in front of me. God provided over and over.

Six weeks prior to the fire I was assigned to study the book of Job through my mentor. A story about a man who loses everything, family, property, businesses, health, everything. He is faithful to God, defeats the enemy, and everything is restored to him and more. I finished the study five days before the fire. God prepared me for the loss. He did not take me from it. He carried me through it. He is healing me, He is restoring me, and He is building a new dream in me. I will not be defeated; I am a survivor.