My multi-day PG&E power shut off diary
PG&E and AT&T stupidity has devastating effects on everyone near where I live
The first time PG&E tried to burn my house down was September 2007. I was at work, and the CFO ran into my office shouting, “I think I just saw your house on fire from the Channel 5 news helicopter.” A transformer had blown less than a quarter mile up the road, and we were lucky the wind was blowing the other way. Several days later, we were allowed to go home. PG&E was fined, and the owners of the property the transformer was located on (not us) settled, but things like our slurry-seal roads being trashed only two years (from the weight of the fire fighting equipment) never got fixed. I always buy the “All-you-can-eat wheel alignment” plan at Wheelworks (Hi Jeff). He does not make money off of me.
The last fire P&E started near my home was the day after the Paradise fire, and we were trapped. There was a live line in the road that PG&E wouldn’t “de-energize” (their term for shutting off a power line) until the first responders arrived. That took 45 minutes, during which time we had little updates, which was beyond nerve-wracking. I was then escorted out with hoses being sprayed over my car and spent the night with relatives.
And there was a third fire between the first two without quite as much drama. The common denominator? A combination of PG&E incompetence and PG&E placing greed over safety. They failed to sufficiently clear brush or cut trees, had faulty equipment, and did not care about people’s safety, regardless of what their commercials say. But they had no problem paying exorbitant executive bonuses in the twelve years they were responsible for three fires near my home. PG&E’s evil actions, combined with their lack of prevention, scream louder than any words ever could
My experience is likely exacerbated by the fact that I’m a type 1 diabetic and an electric wheelchair user with a fridge full of costly medication. While PG&E has a “medical electricity” rate, it takes so much paperwork that most people who only need to charge a wheelchair aren’t bothered. It is because of the totality of these experiences that I have borderline PTSD concerning fire. This is true for many people with disabilities.
PG&E calls these events PSPS, which stands for Public Safety Power Shutoff. PSPS sounds a lot nicer than “We screwed up and didn’t do our job so we had to cut your power so we don’t kill you”. During the first PSPS two-and-a-half weeks ago, PG&E’s website crashed repeatedly. When it was up, information about outages was frequently wrong, and even when it was right, it couldn’t be accessed by people with disabilities who used assistive technology, such as those who used screen readers or switches. PG&E never responded to my email (God forbid they admit they **cked up), though amusingly, I heard through a friend-of-a-friend that a large accessibility consultancy I previously worked for received a significant contract to remediate PG&E’s emergency web pages.
Over the years since 2007, my husband and I have had the privilege to spend tens of thousands of dollars compensating for PG&E’s recklessness, attempting to make our home more fire-resistant and improving our chances of an evacuation. We have steel roofs on all of our buildings, and the main house has fire sprinklers and can be partially powered by a generator. We’ve put in tanks that hold 21,000 gallons of water with pipe stands that fit the local fire truck hoses. We have fire foam that can be sprayed on the house when we leave, a trailer that can hold both of our horses and an automatic transmission truck (in case I am the only one at home when a mandatory evacuation is announced). We support the local volunteer fire department. We cut down dead trees and keep the decks clear. In addition to the capital costs, we spend a ton of money on propane for the generator that keeps part of the house powered during our many outages. Our power is usually out 6–10 times yearly in addition to the recent PSPS events. We also have redundant satellite internet.
PG&E reimbursement? Exactly zero. PG&E concern? Less than zero.
T minus five days
Weather people start projecting wind storms. I stopped buying things requiring refrigeration and bought powdered and boxed milk. We talk to someone who keeps their horse with us about bringing up her trailer, hooking it up to our truck, and then turning it around so they face the road in case a hasty exit is required.
T minus three days
I leave my wheelchair charger at the office and take emergency insulin to places that should be safe from power outages.
A neighbor called to arrange for early refills on our propane tanks (to power the generator)
T minus one day
We run the water through the roof sprinklers, riding rings, and corral to wet the sand.
Charge all our devices, power all our bricks.
The husband (as part of CERT, Community Emergency Response Team) does a canyon census and updates the phone numbers and emails for all the residents.
Original estimate (Saturday, October 26, 5 pm)
Evacuation notices for Sonoma, Healdsburg, and Windsor play during the World Series in both English and Spanish every 30 minutes. But nothing happened at my house; the following emergency announcement says our area’s outage has been postponed until 7 pm.
Oct 26th, 7 pm
Nothing happened. The following emergency announcement says our area’s outage has been postponed until 9 pm. The family discusses evacuation routes, updates the contents of our go-bags and leaves them in the car, and where we would go if we see a fire and can’t get out. The culvert under our driveway is the best bet, but we aren’t optimistic that I could make the 3-foot jump down without injury. I silently think that if it gets to us having to get in the ditch, breaking all the bones in my feet will be the least of my problems.
Oct 26th, 8:43 pm
The power goes out. We leave our blackout curtains open so we might be woken by fire if it could be seen through our window. We have discussed having one of us awake 24x7, but neither my husband nor I do well when sleep-deprived, so this is the best we can do.
Oct 26th, 10:43 pm
The closest cell access to our house is five miles away. Our house phone line goes dead because the phone box at the end of the road requires electricity and only has a two-hour backup power supply. Again, the root cause is straight-up greed. Multiple requests have been made for AT&T to upgrade the batteries, but they have completely refused. Our phone wiring pre-dates WWII, and the lines are NOT working more than they work. When you know your utility repair workers by name (Hi Carlos, I know you are trying, but I still hate your employer; come by if you want coffee or need to use the restroom), it’s not a good thing. Fiber is too good for us apparently, though AT&T gets $2000 per household per year (about $84,000 annually) since we are a “hard to provide service area”, in addition to the monthly bills we pay which only get prorated for outages when we call and complain.
Because our cell phones require internet, the ham radio phone patch is the only way to report emergencies. But it’s not like calling 911 and having first responders arrive 4–6 minutes later. It takes however long to get to our house (5 to 18 minutes), 5 minutes to place the call, and 18 minutes if you are lucky, for the police or fire to arrive.
T+1 8 am
The fridge is at 40 degrees, so we turn the generator on during the daytime to keep the fridge, freezer, microwave, and internet going. We switched to satellite internet since our primary internet, which relies on power on the ridge, is out.
My husband unplugged the washer and dryer and plugged the furnace in so we could warm up the house. It dropped to the low 40s overnight, and obviously, we can’t use our wood-burning stove, which is usually our primary heat source.
T+1 1:30 pm
A neighbor comes over, and we do our regular weekend tradition of swapping apples for fresh bread. She tells us Channel 11 has turned to 24-hour fire news. I can’t watch it. We plan to make sure that someone is always up here in case the horses and livestock need to be let loose to fend for themselves.
I updated my photos from 2018 in case we have to put in insurance claims
My husband went to check on the animals and returned 30 minutes later, saying he heard six trees fall when he was out. Then he turns on the TV. Fires in Lafayette, Vallejo, and Crockett. My brain flashes back to September 11, when the news was paralyzing. Watching it made you feel terrible; not watching it made you feel worse.
The air quality is not terrible, but I wish I had restocked on N95 masks since last year.
I’m glad my boss is in Barcelona now; I will be a little stressed next week. Many people have it worse than me, but the stress of repeated events like this over time can’t be good for anyone. And we don’t expect our power back on before Tuesday.