Two years later, wildfire rebuild not complete

May 13--CARLSBAD -- Greg Saska's home was one of the first casualties of the Poinsettia fire that chewed through an upscale neighborhood in central Carlsbad on a hopscotch path of destruction. Two years later, he's the only homeowner still waiting to rebuild.

With no insurance on the Skimmer Court property -- a gamble he sorely regrets -- and without cash for construction, the 65-year-old Saska lives like a hoarder, squeezed into a garage that survived the blaze. He has a skinny path carved out in the sea of clutter. To the right is his where he sleeps, to the left a television. On the floor, several mouse traps, including one with the remains of an unlucky mouse.

"I have to live here," Saska said last month. "It's my home, and I have to make the best of this."

Confident that his situation is temporary, he's pinning his hopes on a lawsuit that he and more than 100 other fire victims have filed against the Omni La Costa Resort & Spa. Investigators never determined what started the Poinsettia blaze, but the flames were first spotted in brush at the edge of the golf course's 7th fairway.

In court documents, the resort has denied any responsibility for the wildfire. Trial is set for next March. Attorney Robert Moreno, who is representing Omni La Costa in the lawsuit, didn't respond to requests for comment in the last two weeks.

Attorney Gerald Singleton, who represents the plaintiffs, said Saska's situation is "the most severe" of any who lost homes in the blaze.

"My heart goes out to him," Singleton said. "It's a terrible situation and hopefully we can recover the funds to rebuild his house.

While Saska's situation seems extreme, he's not the only one still struggling to recover from the destruction caused by more than a dozen fires that roared through the region in May 2014.

Spring firestorms

The Poinsettia fire began on May 14, 2014, and was one of 13 wildfires to explode in the county during an unusually hot and dry week. The fires burned a combined 26,646 acres, destroyed 65 buildings and cost roughly $60 million between property damage and suppression efforts. The worst of it came in North County.

The Carlsbad blaze was relatively small -- just 600 acres -- but also one of the most surprising, ripping through the middle of the upscale neighborhood and chewing into a business park.

Hours later, a few miles to the east in San Marcos, another destructive and costly fire took hold. That blaze, dubbed the Cocos fire, caused roughly $30 million in damage as it destroyed 38 homes and cottages, one business and 15 outbuildings.

While Saska's home is the only one that hasn't been rebuilt in Carlsbad, the progress is much slower in areas consumed by the Cocos fire, which was set by a then 13-year-old girl. Most of the private homes remain incomplete, and none of the 26 cottages destroyed at the Harmony Grove Spiritualist Association have been replaced.

"I wouldn't wish this on anybody," said Cocos victim Danny Eubanks, who sleeps in a bunker on his property while working to rebuild his hilltop home.

Thinking about the young arsonist, the retiree quickly reconsiders. "I'd like her to live here for a while."

Cocos rebuild slow

Five of the homes lost in the Cocos blaze were in San Marcos, and 33 others were in nearby unincorporated areas. Of the five San Marcos homes that were destroyed, one has been rebuilt, one is nearly there and three others have yet to pull permits.

The tale is similar outside the city limits. Of the seven destroyed homes outside the spiritualist center, only two have been rebuilt. Three more are still in the middle of the process -- including Eubanks --and a fourth just asked for a building permit. County officials have not heard from the owner of the last home.

Eubanks' insurance payout wasn't enough to cover the cost of the rebuild, so he's been doing much of the work himself and with buddies. He had hoped to finish by the fire's second anniversary this month, but is now estimating it will be sometime this summer.

"There's not quite yet a sense of excitement," Eubanks said of nearing completion. "In my head I know it, but until I live in there, no dirt on the floor, that's when it will feel real."

The young arsonist -- who had set fire to a tree in a neighbor's backyard, and that sent embers floating to a brushy canyon below -- was sentenced to 400 hours of community service, as well as probation and intensive counseling.

In Carlsbad, investigators never officially determined how the Poinsettia fire started. The burning brush spotted near the golf course quickly roared into an inferno and caused $24.5 million in damage.

The lawsuit alleges the resort should have done more to safeguard against a wildfire and lays out differing scenarios for how the blaze might have started, including the possibility of a careless smoker or sparks created by faulty or improperly maintained equipment.

'We are alive, at least'

Saska's parents bought the two-bedroom ranch 40 years ago, and it sits at the end of a cul-de-sac now lined by million-dollar McMansions. His home -- which backs up to a brushy area near El Camino Real -- was the only one on the street to burn.

When the fire hit, Saska tried desperately to put it out. He soon walked stunned and barefoot outside the smoldering ruins as news crews surveyed the destruction.

"We are alive, at least," Saska told the Union-Tribune that morning. He had lived there for many years with his mother, and had inherited the property when she died a few years ago.

For a while after the blaze, Saska lived in a car and a tent at the end of his cul de sac. He also spent months in a motel, and eventually moved into the garage.

Neighbors have been kind. One created a fund-raising page and helped him work through legal matters.

Saska spends his days mostly puttering around his acre of property, relaxing in the patio furniture atop the cement foundation. Some of the heavy vegetation that surrounded the home -- and fueled the fire that destroyed it -- is coming back. Most is blackened.

Money is tight; income from a rental property in Colorado covers his monthly expenses. He wants to replace the home, using the original plans from 1966. The lawsuit is his only hope.

"I have to wait for a settlement," Saska said. "No work can start until then."

Saska calls it "a disappointing surprise" that fire crews didn't save his home. However, he praises the city, which helped him get the ruins demolished and hauled away at a discount.

He lives in the 1,225-square-foot garage -- or accessory building, under the city's terminology -- which is crammed to the ceiling with his family's possessions. The space has electricity and a small bathroom with water and sewer hookups, but Saska -- a self-described "hippie" -- has to shower in a rig set up outside.

Hippie or not, he's also a car guy, and he still misses the two old cars he lost to the flames, a Lincoln and a BMW. Two Mercedes survived -- one his, one his late father's -- and they appear to live better than he does. Each gets its own zippered tent, clutter-free.

In this neighborhood, his acre of land is clearly valuable. But when asked why he just doesn't sell it, Saska's face contorts.

The idea of leaving is repulsive. This is his family's land. Where else would he want to go?

"Is it so bad here?" Saska said. "I like the location. I don't want to go. If I can rebuild, I will."

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