Red night in Cebreros (Ávila, 3,400 inhabitants). Red are the Red Cross blankets that wrap the displaced, or the cold volunteers, in the municipal sports center that houses the residents of El Tiemblo (4,600) who preferred to sleep there rather than return to the town. Red is the glow of the arc of fire around the municipality in the form of fronts, flanks, and threatening tongues that are commented on while enjoying the longed-for cool air: finally, night temperatures drop a little, essential to try to contain the horror that has been looming over them since Wednesday. Red is the moon, covered by smoke that will take days, or tornadoes, to dissipate. The siren lights of fire engines try to compete in a dark and tense night, with contained winds, windows of opportunity for the exhausted firefighters. It’s going to be a long one.
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Home 19. Visitor 41. The electronic scoreboard of the sports center in Ávila, with a huge zebra on its emblem, shows the time and not the score: there is still a long way to go for victory against the fire that started in Burgohondo three days ago and is completely untamed, with thousands of hectares destroyed. There is a well-oiled assembly line next to several snack tables and surrounded by an endless array of provisions: cold cuts, watermelons, water, soft drinks, coffee, bread, milk, sweets, tomatoes, cheese, macaroni, pasta salad, paella pans. Several volunteers cut bread rolls and generously fill them to feed the hungry, of multiple profiles, all afternoon: brigade members, civil guards, local police, Civil Protection members, journalists, and locals, especially locals. There are children and adults, grandparents and grandchildren, teenagers wandering around. Moments of tension are experienced because the gusts spread the hotspots here and there and suddenly, looking out onto the adjacent football field, a new flare-up is seen. A neighbor murmurs: “We’re screwed, almost the entire town has burned on all four sides.” Another complains: “Two of my sheep have disappeared.”
Every now and then, different news arrives in the incomplete puzzle of extinguishing a fire: one road opens, another closes, one town is confined, another is evacuated, that one clears and the population can return. People prefer not to give names or grand speeches while entertaining themselves with their phones, chatting, or digesting the sadness of seeing everything burn. Pets are more entertained: there are dogs of all sizes and attitudes, comfortable cats on sun loungers, tiny kittens that fit in the palm of a hand, and even songbirds silenced by the chaos. The hum of the helicopter loading water from the pool is heard, and little by little, many people leave. There are several strategies: the numerous residents from Madrid are urged to go to the capital so as not to overload resources; those from El Tiemblo are suggested to either stay or return to their homes but confine themselves there. The elderly choose to spend the night here, just in case.
21:08. Time seems to stand still. More chairs are brought outside the pavilion to analyze whether this spark is accidental or a controlled burn by firefighters scattered around. The wind provides an unexpected coolness combined with the sprinklers on the lawn adjacent to the sports center. If only there were some in the mountains, with such complex topography, with peaks to the south where the fire tries to merge with its giant counterpart from Madrid, the result of three different fires. The enormous challenge will be to prevent it, and many onlookers can only watch helplessly: they have had enough with laying hoses and using brush cutters during the afternoon, when the burning embers threatened to scorch Cebreros. Later, they will remain in the streets, helpless.
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22:29. The confined watch the umpteenth fire engine whizz past this door, which during the afternoon witnesses tears when there’s no news of a loved one, smiles when they answer the phone, hugs when they arrive in person. The brigade members head to the cemetery and further down apply controlled burns. “It’s a window of opportunity,” a firefighter celebrates, torch in hand, to apply technical fire and control this area now that there’s no wind and much less heat. The bad news is that the uncontrolled areas are countless. Other firefighters respond via WhatsApp with a succinct “horrible” when asked how things are in their sectors, with several towns surrounded.
02:20. Snores, snores of all kinds, perhaps aggravated by so much ash swallowed these days. One rumble answers another amidst the beeps of a phone on silent or another spitting out the sound of chainsaws in a video watched by an insomniac. There are about 30 sleepers, or at least lying down. The young Civil Protection volunteers who have been toiling all day feed a new crew with a smile, who come for provisions before returning to the fight: “Soft drinks, water, and sandwiches.” Done! A firefighter asks for medical assistance for a minor but annoying injury. The hustle and bustle does not disturb the sleepers or their loyal pets at their feet. Some, if anything, take a stroll before returning to a horizontal position. From a side door, the flames are visible. Next to it, a man sleeps sitting inside the goal. Goal of exhaustion. Locals encourage anyone with a roof in Cebreros to go rest, as they will be more productive tomorrow with a few hours of sleep.
02:49. Lying on the camp stretcher offers more comfort than it appears. Barely. The bed trembles with any movement, and one can only hope to succumb quickly. Before closing one’s eyes, a final look around. There is also room for love when you are confined in a sports center in Ávila: a woman wrapped in a blanket rests on her beloved’s shoulder, who leans his head against the wall, sitting in separate chairs. Another couple sleeps on two separate stretchers but has intertwined their hands before succumbing to the mental and physical exhaustion of a forest and emotional fire.
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