On Dry Ground with the Oroville Dam Evacuees, Who Don't Know What Comes Next
CHICO, CALIFORNIA-Penny Moreno left Sunday's dinner on her kitchen counter.
The mother of four had just cooked chicken and mashed potatoes when she learned that the Oroville Dam's emergency spillway had the potential to fail, which meant that her family needed to swiftly evacuate their home in Thermalito or risk being engulfed by a wall of water-that is, if Lake Oroville, California's second largest reservoir, collapsed. A week ago, the main spillway, a channel that sends water to nearby Feather River, developed a hole. That hole, in addition to weeks of heavy rain, prompted the use of the emergency spillway, which had never been used in the history of the dam.
Within a half hour of seeing the first alert on Facebook, Moreno said that her family of six had assembled inside their new house, two blocks from the river, where they hadn't even finished unpacking since moving there three weeks ago. Minutes after 4 p.m., they grabbed scant pieces of clothing and a few precious belongings along with their three dogs and drove their Chevy Traverse to Chico, a city 22.5 miles to the north, where they found refuge in a local church here.
"I forgot socks," Moreno said on Monday, "but brought three pairs of underwear."
"Between us," she added, "I'd rather have the underwear than the socks."
On Sunday afternoon, state authorities had issued mandatory evacuation notices to more than 188,000 residents in and around the city of Oroville. It's a mostly rural area near the foothills of the Sierra Nevada, nicknamed the "City of Gold" because of its roots during the California Gold Rush. Earlier in the day, water had gushed down the dam's emergency spillway for first time since 1968, eroding the earth, just as it had done to the main spillway. The emergency spillway's hole could compromise the dam if it pokes through the lake's wall. The threat of that triggered the evacuation notices. As of Monday, authorities said the water level of Lake Oroville had slightly lowered and the emergency spillway had ceased to be used. But storms are expected to hit Northern California this week, so people here are just waiting to see what happens next.
Moreno's family and their dogs-Cujo, a seven-pound Papillon Chihuahua; Reisling, a mixed Shih Tzu; and Eli, a fluffy German Shepherd Alaskan Malamute-were all OK. But she and her family had spent Sunday night sleeping on military cots in one of Neighborhood Church's large rooms of worship, surrounded by blankets, pillows and weary bodies scattered across the floor.
A Sunday night sleeping on military cots in one of Neighborhood Church's large rooms of worship, surrounded by blankets, pillows and weary bodies scattered across the floor.
On Monday, during the Golden Hour, a line of families formed when it was time for dinner. Churchgoers served them lasagna and salad. American Red Cross volunteers arrived in a white Ryder rental truck and dropped off pallets of military cots, which they carried into the big building where Moreno's family slept, as well as an even bigger building-a geodesic dome, of the Buckminster Fuller variety-where Sunday services are held. The parking lot filled up close to capacity, and many people with pets relaxed outside because animals weren't allowed inside the buildings. Inside and outside of each location, evacuees gathered around portable tables, talked or eyed their environment; some just sat by themselves. Teenagers stayed close to wall outlets, charging their phones while staring down at them. Others slept. And kids experienced the full extent of the church's toy box: they played checkers, solved puzzles, bounced balls. A handwritten sign detailed the church's cache of donations: body soap, toothbrushes, tooth paste, deodorant, diapers, ChapStick. About a dozen evacuees watched Lester Holt on NBC Nightly News, then switched over to Wheel of Fortune.
As of Monday night, more than 500 evacuees had checked in to the religious sanctuary, says Kathy LeDuc, a church elder and resident of Chico who volunteered here throughout the day.
On Sunday night, Patricia Kidd came to the church. Arriving with her neighbors, family, nine dogs and four cars, the 58-year-old lashed out at the leaders in charge of the situation. "This is something that should be kept up every year," she said, referring to the emergency spillway. "I don't care if you inspect it once a month, once every three months, once every six months. I don't care. Get your butt in there."
Early on Monday, Kidd said she heard a rumor that her city flooded, but then called a couple reliable contacts in Sacramento who told her that it actually hadn't and someone must've been peddling her fake news, which made her extremely upset. "To be told that my house is underwater and I don't have a home anymore. What the hell am I supposed to do?" she said.
"I'm not going to lie," she continued. "It was the first time I have ever broke down in front of somebody-and I cried. All I own is in my home. I lost my husband six years ago. I lost my mother. I lost my foster mother. I've lost an aunt. I've lost a best friend, cousins and uncles. I mean, come on. You're talking about everything my children and I own."
Now, she hopes she can return home as soon as possible because she slept in her car last night and wants to take a shower soon. She doesn't have the best sense of what's going on, explaining that she didn't bring a computer, smartphone or tablet, and doesn't buy much of what she's heard.
Editor's note: This post has been updated to reflect the fact that the emergency spillway had never been used before this week.
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