Roland Hill never left his Tollhouse, Calif., home perched on a mountainside when Creek Fire evacuation orders were issued Labor Day weekend. For one thing, officials didn't come knocking up his long, bumpy dirt road, he said.
"Nobody really even knows you're up here," the 60-year-old said of his off-the-grid lifestyle on remote Quail Springs Lane, many dusty turns beyond a roadblock Friday at Tollhouse and Burrough Valley roads.
Hill has been feeding evacuated neighbors' chickens, cats and dogs for the past two weeks as they wait to return home. He said he was previously told that if he left, he wouldn't be allowed back up to his house.
"Constitutionally, they can't make you leave your property," Hill said of his decision to stay. "You got a right to protect what you have as long as you're being safe about it. No one wants to burn up. I think a lot of people feel the same way."
One evacuated neighbor, Matthew Warner, was allowed past the roadblock for the first time Friday morning to give Hill some diesel for his truck and bottled water. The gas came just in time.
"Come on baby," Hill told his four-wheel drive Ford F-350 as it struggled to start after soaking up five gallons of petroleum.
Another neighbor shared her thanks the previous day by bringing Hill a pork sandwich and 12-pack of Coors Light that was exchanged at the roadblock.
Hill said it can be "kind of lonely" on the mountain now, but he's glad to still be there to help. His mother who lives with him and their horses previously evacuated to a friend's home.
He still has their three dogs, including a blind black Lab, at the house he describes as a rebuilt "I Love Lucy" trailer sitting on 40 acres. It was a "nice and quiet, peaceful" life before the Creek Fire hit.
Checking on home after two weeks evacuated
Warner, his mother and sister have been living out of a tent outside Clovis Hills Community Church for the past two weeks. He's grateful for the help they've received, but being away from home for so long is "becoming frustrating."
It was great to get past the roadblock Friday.
"I can't tell you how good it is just to see this place," Warner said while checking on a neighbor's property below his.
Concern crept back in as the 50-year-old neared his home and saw bulldozers had dug up buried electrical lines powering the water pump for his family's well. But his home atop the hill remained intact.
"It's a huge relief, of course," Warner said, "but boy now I see the list of chores to get this well back up and running."
Before that well went in, the family hauled barrels of water up the mountain.
Warner chose not to water a patch of golden flowers for his mom as planned so he could save the precious liquid still left in their water tank.
One small victory: Warner's propane-powered fridge is still cold.
"I've still got ice cubes," Warner said before pulling out a cigarette while looking at a mass of feathers strewn across his yard � all that remained of one of his chickens. A pile of unguarded eggs was nearby.
Hill said one of his dogs might have killed the bird, but thought his work feeding the chickens had gone pretty well overall. "If that's only one chicken gone, that's alright."
Warner wanted to get to work fixing the family well, but also needed to return to his mom and sister still camping outside the church.
"Thank God it's still here," Warner said of their home, "but we can't come home. It's like I fell overboard and in the ocean and now have to swim for the boat."
Later Friday, the Fresno County Sheriff's Office changed an evacuation order in that area to an evacuation warning.
The Warners are among thousands who have been displaced by the massive Creek Fire. Evacuation orders and warnings are being lifted in some areas although the wildfire continues to grow and was just 25% contained Saturday after destroying 842 structures.
Many yellow papers notifying officials of evacuated families alongside "no trespassing" signs remained posted at the end of driveways near the fire two weeks after its start.
Warner said his family saw the glow of the blaze and heard it roaring and popping in the distance when they evacuated Sept. 6.
The Creek Fire has been "awful," Warner said. "I don't think there are words."
Helping neighbors and reflecting on wildfire
Hill is suspicious of so many historically large wildfires burning across California at the same time. Antifa is likely responsible, he said � "who else would it be!?" � before adding that he thinks environmental groups were started by Russians.
"It's a conspiracy theory maybe," he acknowledged, but it's information he read that seems right to him.
Among the chores Hill has helped evacuated neighbors with is bringing 40 pounds of cat food into an elderly woman's mobile home, populated by many felines.
Driving up a steep, rutted road Friday, Hill lamented it was "kind of a pain in the butt" but nothing that couldn't be fixed with a "steel rake and elbow grease."
The retired trucker who now works servicing swimming pools didn't seem worried about the even rougher ride as he reached a new road made by bulldozers as a fire break at the top of his mountain. His truck leaned heavily to one side, seemingly ready to roll, as he looked out across another unscathed valley and mountain beyond. The sight steeled his resolve to stay put.
"Why kick your people out if it's nowhere to be seen?" he said of evacuations in that area.
But the Creek Fire is much larger, and has grown faster, than any the region had seen before throughout his 22 years on Quail Springs Lane. It raced through tens of thousands of acres in just its first weekend, its severity even catching mountain communities accustomed to summer wildfires by surprise.
Officials said evacuation orders are issued because of a "potential or actual threat to civilian life within 1 to 2 hours" or when deemed necessary to protect people.
"Law enforcement agencies are responsible for enforcing the evacuation order. FOLLOW THEIR DIRECTION PROMPTLY," a stern statement from Fresno County officials reads.
But Hill hopes others still under evacuation orders in the area will soon be allowed to at least come back to check on their properties.
In the meantime, he'll keep helping neighbors while they're away, "and vice versa."
