Tiki Shack II fund

If you're friends with Pete Peterson, you may have heard that his recently-completed Tiki Shack bar at the Lost Outpost (along with his home, the Lost Outpost itself) was lost in the CZU August Lightning Complex Fire.

Let's help him fund a new Tiki Shack!

Of course, while this fundraiser is ostensibly for funds build a new Tiki Shack II, Pete and his Super Spouse are free to spend it however they need.

As for me, I'm just one of Pete's friends - we met racing Lemons.  I just wanted to help out, and so did a bunch of other people, and this seemed like an easy way to do it.  100% of funds collected will, of course, go straight to Pete/Super Spouse.


The whole story, from Pete's post on Facebook (pasted with permission):

On Tuesday the 18th we got an evacuation notice, so we stuffed our go-bags and animals into the wife’s smart and headed to a friend’s place over the hill for the night.

The next day we traveled back to the house and packed up some clothing and some sentimental items. Photos, backup hard drives, and even a pair of my most sentimental guitars. My grandpa’s Clamper vest and my Midway Desert Storm cruise Jacket. Bubbles’ urn, along with the others.

We spent a couple more hours hardening the property. Super Spouse chucked a half cord of wood from the back of the house down into the creek while I cut and removed any near branches and expanded my fire-line. Then we retreated to the in-law's for the night.

Yesterday morning, I got a message on the group chat that we were back in danger, spot fires were popping up in the neighborhood, and a handful of neighbors were up there making a stand putting them out, and were calling for help. So I jumped in the little car and raced back up the mountain, and schmoozed my way in past the fire crews. A bull-dozer driver took me up to the Lost Outpost in his personal truck so I could grab a few things. “15 minutes!” he yelled.

I looked around at all the mementos and collectibles, and family heirlooms, memories…. and grabbed two more guitars. I threw them in the back of the truck, and the driver said he totally got it, he was a musician too. I just happened to be wearing a “Fender Guitars” shirt.

On the way down the street I saw my neighbor, the one making the stand and yelled out to him. He had been preparing for this day for 35 years. I told the driver I had to stay and help. He asked what I wanted him to do with the guitars, I gave him the key to the smart car in case they needed to move it, and asked him to leave it and the guitars in the car.

Spent the next 4 hours chopping down trees with an ax and doing last minute clearing with a rake. A wall of trees erupted beyond the property behinds us, across the creek, and the fire department raced over & saved the house between the fire and us.

I completed my fire line (my very first job included cutting fire breaks up in the Sierras), and a couple small spot fires erupted near on the other side of the gully behind us.

The FD put them out, but one re-ignited. They decided they were going to let it burn, and left saying “It wasn’t worth it”. Within 5 minutes it was roaring. There was no water in our system, no water in the hydrants, all I had were a rain barrel and a pair of whisky barrels full of water.

The fire came up the ravine right at us and was a wall of flame. I retreated to the other side of the street up wind, and my place withstood the initial fire-front. A window busted out from the intense heat. The roofline and paint along that side of the house started smoking, the back porch rails started to burn.

All my years being fascinated with wild-fire science, training in the Navy, and decades of study & preparation TOTALLY worked. The fire front passed, but started taking out the rest of the houses down the street. Within minutes multiple houses were towering infernos. It was heartbreaking.

But the Lost Outpost yet stood. I had saved it with my bare hands and a sharp ax, by myself. (and some very welcome last second help from neighbors)

I spent the next hour dousing hot spots and the rear deck with buckets of water and anything liquid I could find. Soda, vinegar, anything was fair game. I was amazed it actually worked.

Then I noticed a tiny pile of leaves I had missed raking from under the RV had caught light, and I was... barely standing, thirsty, out of water, covered in soot, and another hot spot started under the garage wall.

I chose the garage, and then I heard the RV's propane tank start blowing off pressure and the cloud towered above, as propane tanks began to explode all through the neighborhood like mortars in a war zone.

It was time to bail.

While I had saved the Outpost from the initial fire-front, that was just the opening round. A 30’ wall of flames, sometimes as high as 300’ was headed over the hill at us.

I took one last look at the Lost Outpost, all the cars, the newly completed Tiki Shack, and the lifetime of travel memories inside and thanked them, and bailed.

I walked down the street through the active area, stole a friend's truck, went and found him, then I laid down on the tailgate and we bailed. The radiant fire was SO hot I had to roll inside the bed to protect myself.

Dante's Hell, it was. And I was at peace with my decision. Now it was time for egress.

I picked up the wife's smart car where I left it, saw the guitars and key inside, and raced down the mountain. A CHP officer at a road block ran over and gave me some ice cold water when I stopped to ask if he had any to spare. We wished each other safety. And I gave him the heart sign.

I got as far as Scotts Valley to a gas station for a LOT more water before I started sobbing, trying to figure out what the first thing I wanted to eat as a newly homeless person would be (Payday). I hadn’t eaten anything since the night before.

I never looked back, and I have no idea what became of the Lost Outpost. But I asked a random person at a gas station to call my wife and let her know I was ok. I could barely talk and my phone completely broke.

I made an absolute mess of the in-law’s shower last night with all the soot and embers. I am red with a slight “sunburn”, but Super-Spouse and her mom call me “Slightly Roasted”, and say I smell delicious like BBQ pork.

We were eating dinner with them when it hit me... when I was a kid up in Nevada County, I used to keep having these recurring terrifying nightmares about running through a forest fire.

I didn't recognize that scene as our own street until it was on fire. So I don't know if you believe in premonitions or whatever, but there is is.

But FUCK YEAH!! I can sleep well tonight knowing I did EVERYTHING I possibly could have, did it well, adapted to adversity, had contingency plans and NEVER GAVE UP. All that training served me well. I won the battle, only to lose the war to a tiny secondary pile of missed leaves, and then to an unwinnable wall of fire from hell that’s taking out an entire mountain range of rain forest.

The rains… they never came.

We had been on a big purge for the last couple months, because we've collected soo many (cool, to me) things over the years. And by cool things of course I mean "projects" or problems competing for my attention. It was already time to slim it all down. Again. I’m prone to doing this every few years and am past due.

Although, we weren’t expecting to purge everything today except for our pets, a couple suitcases of clothes and a handful of guitars…

BUT… it did just resolve pretty much every problem and project in one fell swoop.
I didn’t even get to show off pics of my new cabinets, pull-out spice rack and butcher-block counter-top next to the BRAND NEW stove. GAH!! Did it all myself.

We are resilient, and resourceful. I have started over from scratch a number of times. This does not worry me much, as we are already looking forward to our next chapter. The fire… was cleansing. Our immediate needs are met, we now have the opportunity rebuild/replace the Lost Outpost the way we wanted it - all at once.

Even the cats aren't as angry today.