BBCProfessional chef Daron Anderson always tells people he was “born in the kitchen.”
The 45-year-old had a home birth at 295 West Las Flores Drive, where she lived with her mother until this week.
On Thursday, he stepped over the charred remains of where his kitchen once stood in Altadena, a close-knit neighborhood northeast of Los Angeles.
He was looking for a cast iron pan in the hope it would survive the blaze, one of the region’s historic blazes that killed at least 16 people, decimated several communities and left thousands homeless.
Across the street at 296, his friend Rachel’s house also lies in ashes. The house next door (room 281) where he enjoyed family parties has disappeared.
About three blocks from Devirian Place, where his girlfriend lived, some neighbors used garden hoses to try to stop the noisy blaze from burning down their home.
After fire decimated this entire community in the shadow of the San Gabriel Mountains, they are now searching for precious items among the rubble.
It all started on Tuesday night.
The Santa Ana winds were fierce all day.
Daron was in his front yard shortly after 18:00 local time, trying to protect items from flying away.
Across the street at 296 West Las Flores Drive, Rachel Gillespie was taking down Christmas decorations, worrying about plastic icicles and patio furniture.
They exchanged worried looks. “This doesn’t look very good, does it?” she said
The only thing that worried them at that time was the wind.
Little did they know that one of the two worst wildfires in LA history occurred just a few miles away. six flames At the same time, it threatens America’s second-largest city.
The Eaton Fire, which has swept through Altadena, has now destroyed more than 14,000 acres, destroyed thousands of homes and businesses and killed 11 people. By the weekend, Eaton’s containment status was only 15%.
The Palisade Fire, which started that morning in west Los Angeles, continued to burn more than 23,000 acres and was scheduled to die down. active community It turns to ash and at least five people die.
Daron’s next-door neighbor in unit 281, Dillon Akers, was working at a donut stand at the Topanga Mall, about 40 miles away, when smoke began to fill the neighborhood.
The 20-year-old rushed back after hearing the news, but the northwest corner of Altadena was pitch dark and his family was desperately seeking shelter from their home.
His uncle jumped the white picket fence to save precious time when loading items into the backseat of his car.
For the next two hours, Dillon did the same, gathering food, medicine, clothes, and toiletries. I quickly lost my keys and after wandering around in the smoky darkness with a torch for 30 minutes, I found them flying off against the fence.
During his desperate search, he kept telling himself that local authorities would be able to deal with the fire burning down the mountain towards the house where he lived with his mother, grandmother, aunt and two young cousins.
Dylan had been through storms before and seen smoke in the mountains, but this time felt different. This time the orange glow in the sky was directly overhead.
“I was at a complete 10 on the fear scale,” he said.
At 0:30 a.m. Wednesday, Dillon said he and his mother were the last people to leave West Las Flores Drive. They may have been the last to escape alive.
The next day, authorities announced that the neighbor’s remains had been found down the street.
Rachel and Daron left town about two hours before Dillon. Rachel was kicked out by her friend, who drove up and demanded, “You have to leave now.”
Rachel said goodbye to the home she bought just a year ago, along with her wife, toddler, five cats and two days’ worth of clothes.
Daron also grabbed what he could. The guitar he bought when he was 14 was with money he earned working as an extra in a karate film, and a painting of his family crossing London’s Abbey Road was made to look like the cover of an iconic Beatles album. .
As people on Las Flores Drive evacuated, Daron’s neighbors a few blocks away tried to put out the blaze.
At 417 Devirian Place, Hipolito Cisneros and his close friend and neighbor Larry Villescas grabbed a garden hose from house 416 across the street.
The scene outside was hellish.
The garage of one home burned down. Even in front of other cars.
They extended hoses from several homes, including the home of Daron’s girlfriend Sachi, and sprayed water on the structures.
“The water was just bouncing around. It wasn’t even penetrating or anything,” Hipolito said, referring to the bone-dry dirt and brush around the house.
Over time, they made progress, washing away embers and putting out fires. Larry thought they might win.
Then the hose went dry. every water pressure problem They later learned that the overwhelming demand had hampered firefighting efforts throughout Los Angeles County.
An explosion was heard nearby, and another house was engulfed in flames. By 1am, both families were packing up to leave.
“We tried. We really tried.” Hipolito said.
At 2:30 a.m. Wednesday, a police car rolled down the street blaring its loudspeaker, telling everyone to leave immediately.
As he rounded the corner of the street, Larry watched through his truck’s rearview mirror as his garage caught fire.
By 3 a.m. the streets were empty.
Much of the Los Angeles area, like Altadena, is made up of neighborhoods and smaller communities.
One morning, people walked along the row of houses for a cup of coffee at The Little Red Hen Coffee Shop, stopping to catch up on their morning commute.
Many people have maintained tight-knit communities here for decades, where they have watched their neighbors raise families and the children who once played on the streets grow up.
But driving through the area for the first time since his world was turned upside down, Daron barely recognized his neighbors.
The big blue house that marked the familiar turn was gone. The landmarks that once guided him have all disappeared. He points out each neighbor’s property and gasps when he realizes that no one is standing.
He takes pictures of his and Rachel’s homes, and the street he shares with Dillon. Outside the home of the girlfriend that Larry and Hipolito were trying to save, he videotapes and chats with the family before explaining the state of the house to Sachi.
“Oh my god, everything is gone.” He said in a cracked voice.
However, a few items remain in the ruins.
At his sister’s house on West Las Flores Drive, he discovers multicolored plastic lawn ornaments left untouched on her lawn.
He pulls each stake out of the ground, knowing that although this flower arrangement may feel insignificant in the midst of desolation, it might make her smile.
Across the street, only the red brick chimney remains of what was once his home. Around it are piles of clay pottery.
He collects as many as he can with his soot-covered hands, but many of the pieces disintegrate under his touch.
Scorched lemon trees lie on the lawn, some of the fruit still warm to the touch.
“If you can get the seeds, you can plant them again,” he said, picking up a handful.
“This is like a way to start over.”
