Tandy and I had to drive to Winthrop today, and once we passed Wells Dam, it was a very quiet drive. From Carleton to Wells, it's like driving through Mordor; nothing but gray ash and rubble where once stood someone's home; plumes of smoke rising from the scorched ground. I've seen devastation like that before, in the Plain of Jars in Viet Nam. Napalm at work there, and even the rocks and dirt caught fire. That's what it looked like. Nothing but brown and gray ash as far as you could see. It tears at your heart. Small communities like Methow, where the local preacher has cases of water stacked on the porch for anyone who needs it; a land bereft of a smile. Miles of powerlines burned to the ground; some poles still on fire, but nothing else is left to burn. Nobody in Winthrop has power to pump water, run the phones, cook food, flush the toilet or even provide a light to see your way in the smokey gloom. Those who have generators are running out of fuel to run them, but they share to the last drop. Fire in the hills above Perrygin still burning, stores shuttered during what ought to be a busy summer; peoples' lives utterly destroyed, a dull look in their eyes as they search through what once was their home, looking for something-anything to hold to, that says "once this was home. I know what hell looks like; I just drove through it.