Colorado Springs Waldo Canyon wildfire forces thousands to flee flames An entire neighborhood burns near the foothills of Colorado Springs on Tuesday. Photograph: Helen H Richardson/AP The thick black smoke pouring over the hills forced Mandy Ostebuhr to a snap decision: pets, kids' toys into the car, pretty much everything else left to its chances in Colorado's Waldo Canyon wildfire. The smoke was so thick it gave her daughter Camile, 9, coughing fits and a nosebleed, and left a deposit of ash on the front step. An exodus of neighbourhoods north and west of Colorado Springs expanded on Wednesday, as the wildfire broke through containment barriers, triggering a new round of evacuations. "It's nerve wracking, just so scary," said Ostebuhr, carrying a plastic tub of kids' toys out to the car. More than 25,000 people were ordered out of their homes on Tuesday when the fire, fed by strong winds and extreme heat wave, drove towards the air force academy and neighbourhoods north of Colorado Springs. By early afternoon on Wednesday, the number on the move had risen to 32,000 after the authorities expanded the evacuation zone and ordered residents of other areas to be prepared to move out at short notice. "It was like looking at the worst movie set you could imagine," governor John Hickenlooper said after flying over the Waldo Canyon blaze late on Tuesday. It's almost surreal. You look at that, and it's like nothing I've seen before. As more than 600 firefighters battled in vain to bring the blaze under control, the White House announced that Barack Obama will visit the area on Friday to thank them for their efforts and to see the damage. Meanwhile in the Pleasant Valley neighbourhood, Ostebuhr was not hanging around. Within an hour of the alert, she had recruited her parents to help her pack, and organised a convoy of four vehicles to ferry her, her daughter and pets - a cat, a turtle and a fish - as well as their belongings to safety. Her rented house, like most of the others on her street, was wood-framed and old. "If the winds pick up or change direction, it could be really fast," her father, Herman Ostebuhr, said. This neighbourhood could get attacked from two directions. There would be only one way out. But what to save? Ostebuhr was just this side of panic. The jeep was entirely full of clothes and things of sentimental value. An SUV was filling up rapidly with plastic tubs of stuffed animals and toys. "I don't want to leave any of the kids' toys behind," she said. You know, just in case. Further down her street, her neighbours were making similar calculations, stacking suitcases by the front door, or ferrying documents and photo albums to the car. "It's getting close," said Coralee Doyle. Her adult children and other relatives had been phoning every few minutes begging her to get out; Doyle was waiting for her husband to get off work and join her. She wasn't taking much; her only vehicle was a two-seat convertible. Others were worse off though, Doyle said. "I feel so bad for all the people who have already lost their homes," she said. And you've got to wonder: what happens to all the homeless people? Not everyone has someplace to go. Across the northern and western edges of Colorado Springs, residents were preoccupied with their own preparations: taking dogs for walks, strapping bicycles to cars, even stopping off for drinks and snacks. "We're the last stop to Armageddon," a server at the local Starbucks joked. Every time they are told to evacuate they stop in here at the window for a caramel frappuccino. The fires, which started on Saturday, has burned more than 15,000 acres in the foothills around Colorado Springs, with the flames fed by strong winds and record temperatures. It is the most serious of the dozens of wildfires across the American west, because of its proximity to Colorado Springs, the state's second biggest city, and major tourist destinations. State officials have admitted there is little relief in sight because of the heat wave and high winds, deepening the sense of fear in neighbourhoos now threatened by the fire. Douglas Lingle, standing shirtless in his front yard, was reduced to helpless fury by the evacuation warning. I hope the whole thing burns to prove the government should have put out the fire a long time ago instead of pussy footing around. They let it get out of control," said Lingle, who divides his time between homes in Colorado and Texas. If they can't put out a little bitty fire, how are they going to put out one that is in the whole town?