Holy Jim, devastated by fire, faces specter of vanishing forever

CLEVELAND NATIONAL FOREST — It was the moment they’d long feared: The fire came.
Cabins dissolved into ash and ruins.
The remnants of rural life – benches and beer cans and wood-burning stoves – lay charred among the soot and rubble.
It was over quickly, in a matter of hours. But a day later, on Tuesday, the scars remained. The ash blanketed the ground, still warm underfoot. Trees smoldered, dead. In the center of what once were cabins, solitary flames danced, refuse