Metivier-Hart - A Silent Stillness-Buried Alive

A SILENT STILLNESS
BURIED ALIVE

One Womans Remarkable Story of Survival, Hope and Rescue;
the Last Survivor of the La Conchita Landslide

DIANE METIVIER-HART

Copyright 2017 by Diane Metivier-Hart.

Cover photo: La Conchita Mudslide looking up Santa Barbara St. 1-29-05. Courtesy of Rob Malone

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 02/07/2017

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CONTENTS

To those who peri shed:

Charles Womack, fifty-one, artist/musician

Vanessa Bryson, twenty-eight, singer/planned to work for an AIDS program in Seattle

Tony Alvis, fifty-three, horseback riding guide, cat lover, surfer, artist

Michelle Wallet, thirty-seven, baked wedding cakes, mother to Hannah Jade (ten), Raven Violet (six), and Paloma Julie (two)

Patrick Rodreick, forty-seven, grew up in La Conchita since he was ten years old

John Morgan, fifty-six, warned a neighbor that the mountain was coming down, saving his life; grew up in La Conchita

Christina Delgado-Kennedy, forty-five, mother, construction worker

In gratitude to those who risked their lives to save mine and others.

Medal of Valor recipient

Firefighters

Bob Roper

Tom Law

Larry Brister

Darrel Stillwagon

Israel Gutierrez

Bob Schwett

Ryan Matheson

Firefighters - Paramedics

Mark Pina

Joe Williams

Dave Schwartz

Civilians

Bill Harbison

Brett Johnson

Back in 2004, I was a member of my high school classs Fortieth Reunion Committee. We planned mini-reunions throughout the Southern California beach communities in an effort to attract alumni to attend the upcoming reu nion.

One of the mini-reunions was set at a beach in Ventura County. As I sat talking with some of the alumni, I saw a woman approach our group. I said out loud to the others, Theres my dancing par tner.

I explained to those present that back in our teen years, we both attended teenage dances held at the Bellaire Club in Torrance, California, and that I would ask Diane to dance and we would. Then, when the song ended, she would turn and walk away without spending any time to talk with me. This went on for several months, and I never understood why she would dance with me but not talk wit h me.

Diane explained that she was then dating one of the boys in the band, and he had told her it was okay for her to dance, but she wasnt to talk to the boys. We all got a big laugh out of that.

After reuniting with my dancing partner, I discovered what an amazing woman she had become. An accomplished nurse, author, public speaker, and the woman behind Ask Diane, a service she founded and managed for the Mentor Corporation for fifteen y ears.

On January 10, 2005, I had taken my wife to a hospital for a surgical procedure. As they wheeled her off for the surgery, I entered the waiting room and looked up to the television to see a news report on a Spanish sta tion.

On the screen was a video of a landslide. The video was replayed several times, and then the words La Conchita appeared. I then recognized the location and realized that the landslide traveled right over Dianes resid ence.

The visual broadcast of the landslide is forever imprinted on my memory. Several minutes later, I received a cell phone call from a mutual friend of ours asking if I had heard from Diane, and I replied, No.

Both Tom and I continued in vain to reach Diane by phone. It was several hours later that Tom called and told me that Diane had been buried alive, but that she been rescued and was hospitalized in Santa Bar bara.

It was several days before Highway 101 was reopened and I could visit her. Lying in her hospital bed, she relived the day of the landslide fo r me.

I reflect now about how Diane has handled this experience and the strength, stamina, ability to survive, and perseverance she possesses. She is a lifelong friend. Recently we attended another of our high school reunions. It was a wonderful celebration of life and our friend ship.

John Met calf

Detective-III, Superv isor

LAPD, Ret ired

Brittney Wright for providing the title to the book while helping me prepare a presentation the year after the landslide.

John Metcalf for writing the foreword of the book.

Carl Stein for the photography and CBS for permission to use his pictures.

Chas Metivier for permission to use his pictures.

My sister Marlene for use of her pictures.

Bruce Osborne for taking the video of me in the emergency room that day and providing permission for use of the photo clips.

Bryanna MacLaury for the many hours of pulling all the material together with me for submission.

Photographer Karen Quincy Loberg of the Ventura County Star Newspaper for permission to use pictures.

Linda St. Marie-Hall for the artist sketch of my position under the mountain.

Rob Malone for permission to use his pictures, providing a fabulous cover for the book.

CHAPTER 1
ME AGAINST THE MOUNTAIN

Most travelers along Highway 101 dont even realize that our tiny town exists. They drive right past us without looking up toward the mountains, dazzled by the exquisite view of the Pacific Ocean with the sun sparkling off the water, exquisite sunsets, and surfers catching wave after wave. Rincon Point, a famous destination for surfers from around the world and immortalized in the Beach Boys hit Surfing Safari, sits just belo w us.

The town of La Conchita, little shell in Spanish, rises above the road between Ventura and Santa Barbara, which are both twenty minutes away heading north and south. With approximately 200 homes, my community is very much like a family. Some people, like me, have children or grandchildren living in town. My La Conchita family consists of musicians and singers, teachers, nurses, businessmen and people in almost every profession. Many of us live in old beach homes made of wood sitting cozily next to each other along nine blocks of homes over ten short streets at the base of Rincon Mountain, 600 feet above. Several newer two- or three-story homes are scattered throug hout.

Our first nine years we enjoyed living in a two-story house on Santa Paula Avenue. Those were the wonderful family years. I loved its 180-degree view of the horizon and sunsets on the ocean, and I cried when we moved. At first, they looked a little out of place with their newness, but we all accepted whats new and whats old and saw it as a sign that the town was gaining value in real estate. Most of us have all been inside of each others homes at one point or another for a cup of coffee or a party or just a visit, and we keep our doors and windows unlocked. The danger was not with people but with what lurked above, a ticking time bomb. What put me in its path of destruc tion?