QuickTake:

Five years after the Holiday Farm Fire destroyed more than 500 homes in Oregon’s McKenzie River valley, survivors are still fighting for accountability. They await a federal judge’s ruling on a motion that could move forward a case accusing the Bonneville Power Administration, Eugene Water & Electric Board and Lane Electric Cooperative of starting the fire.

Five years ago this month, the 173,000-acre Holiday Farm Fire finally relented, after weeks of burning so hot and fast it destroyed 517 homes in its path.

Annie Margarita’s home was one of them. She’s been waiting for justice ever since.

Now she waits again. In U.S. District Court in Oregon, a judge is reviewing legal squabbles over evidence that points to energized power lines and falling trees as the cause of the catastrophe.

Five years after the Holiday Farm Fire, burn scars on trees in the McKenzie River valley, shown in September 2025, remain a daily reminder of the fire. Credit: Ashli Blow / Lookout Eugene-Springfield

Margarita and dozens of others in Nimrod, Blue River and Rainbow are seeking compensation for damages they believe are the responsibility of the federal Bonneville Power Administration, the Eugene Water & Electric Board and the member-owned Lane Electric Cooperative.

“It’s been a long road,” Margarita said. “Every single thing that I had, and that I loved was in that fire.”

Margarita and her husband, Bert de Klerk, were asleep in their work clothes the night of Sept. 7, 2020, when the Holiday Farm Fire reached their property along the McKenzie River. 

They had just finished painting the outside of the McKenzie River Inn, the bed-and-breakfast de Klerk had owned since 1999. They woke to megaphones outside shouting for everyone to evacuate. They ran from their home in their paint-stained shirts.

Their entire family had been staying at the inn during the pandemic — her father, sister and relatives all under one roof for safety. The fire moved so fast they had only minutes to wake everyone, gather the children and dogs, and get out.

Charred debris marks where the McKenzie River Inn once stood after the 2020 Holiday Farm Fire. Credit: Annie Margarita

Margarita lost all of her artwork, computer files and professional contacts. De Klerk lost his guitars, recording equipment and more than 2,500 vinyl records. The lodge, five cabins and the family home burned to the foundation.

Even years later, she said, the losses continue. 

The cost of a spark 

Among the most visible losses for Margarita: The trees that once surrounded her home keep dying — more than 150 so far, she said.

Her observation aligns with the findings of scientists studying delayed tree mortality, when fire-injured trees, weakened by heat, later succumb to drought. Peer-reviewed analysis estimates that trees across roughly 8,500 acres died from the fire, ranging from 50 to 200 trees per acre — a total of 400,000 to 1.7 million trees.

A scorched patch of forest near Highway 126. Credit: Ashli Blow / Lookout Eugene-Springfield

More are expected to die over the next decade. As that happens, geomorphologists and restoration managers warn of increased risks of landslides and flooding in the community. That’s because without living trees to hold soil in place, steep slopes can slide downhill during rainstorms.

In these forests, residents still smell the devastation around them. Many continue to live year-round in recreational vehicles, waiting for government support to rebuild while navigating post-traumatic stress and grief.

It’s a recovery that federal officials have pegged at $422 million — all possibly from a spark, attorneys say.

Pinpointing ownership, accountability 

Power lines in the McKenzie River valley are a maze of ownership, involving the BPA, EWEB and the Lane Electric Cooperative. Part of the complexity stems from EWEB’s Carmen-Smith Hydroelectric Project upstream.

Transmission lines run from the Carmen-Smith project, which includes three dams along the upper McKenzie River that generate power. EWEB and BPA share ownership of a major line that delivers electricity to a connection point in east Springfield, where it links to the regional grid.

For residents in Blue River and Vida, Lane Electric delivers power through its own distribution lines. 

Power lines along the McKenzie River, where the Holiday Farm Fire burned, as seen in September 2025. Credit: Ashli Blow / Lookout Eugene-Springfield

At high voltage, electricity can jump through the air if something conductive gets too close. Trees can attract current because their trunks and branches contain water and minerals that conduct electricity. In dry, windy conditions, brittle branches can snap and fall onto power lines, creating another fire risk.

Four lawsuits that were argued this month contend the Holiday Farm Fire began when trees fell onto power lines that stayed energized. They allege utilities were at fault for failing to shut off power during fire-risk conditions and for failing to remove hazardous trees.

Attorneys contend that when trees fell onto power lines connected to both BPA and EWEB systems, the lines sagged toward a crossover point with Lane Electric lines, where the fire is believed to have started.

EWEB denies most of the allegations in the lawsuit, and in some cases the utility says there just isn’t enough information to confirm them, according to legal filings.

Powering disaster

With the growing frequency over the past decade of megafires — intense burns exceeding 100,000 acres — power lines have repeatedly been identified as culprits in an era of rising temperatures and population growth. 

In 2018, a Pacific Gas & Electric line sparked California’s Camp Fire, which killed 85 people. In 2023, downed Hawaiian Electric lines ignited the town of Lahaina, on Maui, killing nearly 100.

Closer to home was Oregon’s 2020 Santiam Fire. A jury found PacifiCorp reckless and acting with “gross negligence” in the lead-up to that fire, which killed five people. That case continues to drag on — much like the one over the Holiday Farm Fire.

During an Oct. 8 hearing in the Holiday Farm Fire lawsuit, U.S. District Judge Mustafa Kasubhai said it’s “highly likely” he’ll deny a motion by the federal government seeking to remove itself from the case. His formal ruling, still pending, will determine the next steps.

In that same hearing, Kasubhai questioned how federal authorities handled requests for information from opposing attorneys. He warned against “slow-rolling this case into oblivion.”

It’s a concern Margarita shares.

“Even if we did win,” she said, “is the government going to appeal it for the next 20 years, and we’re going to be dead and gone?”

Burned by the system 

Margarita, a Marine veteran and leather artist, said the trauma deepened her anxiety and nightmares, prompting the Department of Veterans Affairs to increase her disability rating. 

She can no longer focus long enough to complete her work, much of which was destroyed in the fire. Her husband, de Klerk, once a musician and innkeeper, lost his instruments and retirement savings.

They rebuilt a single 3,300-square-foot home on the same footprint as their former inn, a fraction of what once stood. They estimate total losses of more than $6.5 million, but insurance covered only about $1.8 million, which was just enough to rebuild the house they now have up for sale.

Living there isn’t the same. The property that once felt like a scene from Jurassic Park — lush, green and alive — is now open and stark, marked by scorched trees that serve as a daily reminder of what happened. Margarita said it feels impossible to stay, especially when a system she thought would help seems to be working against them.

“We love Oregon. We love the woods. We love fishing,” she said. “I’m really kind of disillusioned right now with our government. I’m a Marine. All this stuff just tears me apart.”

This story was updated Oct. 21 at 10:30 a.m. to reflect the ownership of power lines.

— Jaime Adame contributed to this report.

Ashli Blow brings 12 years of experience in journalism and science writing, focusing on the intersection of issues that impact everyone connected to the land — whether private or public, developed or forested.