At least 10 people have been killed, thousands of structures have been burned to the ground and nearly 180,000 people have been evacuated as wildfires continue to blaze in Los Angeles.
The Palisades fire is the largest, with nearly 20,000 acres (8,090 hectares) burning, then Eaton at nearly 14,000 acres. Officials are reporting some progress with the Hurst fire, which was 37% contained as of Friday morning, and the Lidia fire in Acton, which was 75% contained. The Kenneth fire is nearly 1,000 acres and 35% contained.
People in Los Angeles shared their experiences of near escapes, , evacuations, the destruction of neighborhoods and the smothering impact of air pollution across the city.
‘All that was left standing was the chimney. My brain couldn’t compute it’
Me and my wife Shawna had been following this weather pattern for a while and knew the winds were coming, so we prepared by getting everything into the car on Tuesday evening, just in case. Then we saw the Palisades fire hit and thought: “Those poor people! I hope nothing happens here.”
We hadn’t had rain in 10 months. It was dry – southern California was a tinderbox. Tuesday evening, the smoke started to come in. When I was packing the car, I looked over the left shoulder, and what is normally the pitch-black silhouette of a mountain was this bright, orange tower of flame that was maybe a mile away. That night we left around 8.30pm – not from an evacuation alert, but we just told neighbors: “It’s time.” We drove to a friend’s house in Long Beach.
We kept in touch with our community through a group chat. That night, fire was spreading on our street. At around 3am on Wednesday morning, a neighbor who was trying to contain the flames said he was leaving. Shawna asked him: “What do you mean?” He said: “Shawna, it’s over. The block will be gone tomorrow.”
The next day someone sent us a picture of our home. All that was left standing was the chimney. It was like when I was in New York during 9/11 – my brain just couldn’t compute it.
We drove back on Wednesday to see what was left. It was like the house and area had collapsed in on itself. I walked around to where our kitchen was and thought: “Oh look, the Le Creuset cookware survived.” It was surreal. I went to my office and games room and thought: “I don’t remember that piece of machinery?” It was twisted metal from our central air system that fell down from the loft. I walked around to our bedroom; there was nothing there.
On top of everything, I have stage four prostate cancer. The stress hasn’t been good, and the smoke inhalation has made my chest hurt. It was better when we got to Long Beach but now the air quality is bad here and I’m wheezing again. It’s just devastating – that house was like another child to us. We filled it with love, it was everything we wanted. The fact was, I was planning on dying in that house. That was our plan. I didn’t want to go to a hospital or hospice when the time comes, I just wanted to die in the house that I shared with my wife. Now that’s all gone.
Worst of all, our community is gone. We used to see our neighbors every day, and now we’ve been scattered to the far winds. The fact is, Altadena died on Wednesday morning, and it’s not coming back. Marcus Beer, 54, video games consultant, Altadena
‘It’s hard to imagine life there again’
My wife Sophie and I, with our eight-week-old daughter and cat, Luna, live streets away from Eaton Canyon in Altadena, where one of the fires began. We go for walks down that canyon most mornings. It’s a beautiful place.
On Tuesday we were driving home – we’d gone to try and get our newborn to sleep – when we noticed this bright yellow and orange glow towards the canyon. It was a light you don’t see from an artificial source. And there was smoke.
We rushed home, fighting intense winds and keeping our baby safe. Once we were in, I ran next door to warn our neighbor. He said: “We need to get out of here quickly.” So I ran to tell my wife and we started packing. The power was out, but we had battery-powered tea lights. I grabbed passports, cash, documents, baby stuff like blankets and diapers. I got Luna into her carrier quickly, which she doesn’t like. We evacuated in under five minutes. I didn’t think about how we wouldn’t be back for a long time.
We managed to drive to family in Santa Barbara. The highway was insane, with trees and debris. Going to sleep that night around midnight, we mentally prepared ourselves for losing our home.
Miraculously, despite most of the houses on our street having burned down, we saw from a neighbor’s video that ours remains standing, with only damage to the landscaping (like the fences). It’s as if the flames stopped right at our house. A neighbor, who stayed during the fire, helped protect our home from the flames and saved all the houses beyond it, too.
We got insanely lucky, but we don’t feel lucky at all. We moved to the area to give my daughter the best start in life, near a really good school, in a great neighborhood. Now the school’s burned down and the area is almost totally gone. It’s really hard to imagine life there again.
We can’t get back home; the national guard has closed off the streets. Looters in the area are the new challenge. The neighbor who stayed behind has been patrolling for other fires and looters and caught two in the area already. He’s a hero. Matt Sadie, 41, artist manager in the music business, Altadena
‘The air is so bad I wear a mask inside’
I think I speak for a lot of Los Angelenos when I say, while I’m not in the path of a fire, this has been the most impactful firestorm I can remember. Probably a dozen of my friends, colleagues and neighbors have needed to evacuate. I know at least one person who has lost their home, several more whose possessions and housing are threatened.
I’ve been spending a lot of time on Watch Duty [an app that shares real-time updates of wildfires] to see where the wind is blowing. Yesterday the closest fire to me was the Sunset fire, which was about 5 miles north [and has now been contained]. I couldn’t see the fire but I could see the smoke coming south.
The air quality in the city is devastatingly bad. I’m recovering from Covid and wearing a mask inside my house because the smoke irritates my throat. I’ve also noticed a persistent headache for most of the day.
Most of LA is under a red flag warning, which means the area is dry and anything can spark a fire. As someone who lives in the city it’s really unsettling to think you’re surrounded by things that can go up in flames. It’s a tinderbox.
I’ve lived here for about 27 years and there have been all kinds of natural disasters. But this one feels like the largest impact on day-to-day life. I don’t recall a situation where so many people I know have been directly affected.
I know the fires are not an immediate threat to me, but it’s been really difficult to sleep. I’m feeling climate anxiety quite intensely right now. Denise, 52, program manager in the tech industry, West Adams
‘A palpable sense of loss and suffering’
I watched in a mixture of disbelief, awe and horror on Tuesday to see large smoke clouds first emerge to the west (Palisades) and then to the east (Eaton and Altadena). When the Sunset fire broke out on Wednesday night, much closer to me in the north, I had this sense of being surrounded by flames and smoke.
Luckily the Sunset fire emerged on a day when the winds had died down and water airdrops were possible. But it was very claustrophobic. There was a palpable sense of loss and suffering.
I just have this sense of doom. It feels apocalyptic – I know it’s an overused term, but it’s what comes to mind. My neighbors and I watched the aircraft do their magic [dropping water] above the visible flames. I felt fortunate in those moments, to have a little community of safety.
It’s horrible that so much history has been lost, and so much natural beauty.
Silvia Fernandez, 59, federal government contractor, Hancock Park
‘Seeing the community really come together has been heartwarming’
I live in Venice, pretty close to Santa Monica. We haven’t had any actual fires or evacuation orders here, but it’s still been very stressful with all the uncertainty. I’m born and raised in LA, so watching my home town be partly destroyed has been really difficult.
We’ve seen giant clouds of smoke. On Wednesday evening, we were up on my friend’s balcony in Mar Vista and my mom saw this bright orange glow – she thought it was a reflection at first. Then we watched as it just expanded so rapidly on the hills in the distance. Later we realized we’d watched the Sunset fire spreading.
I write for a local news site called the Westside Current. On Tuesday, I felt paralyzed and was asking myself: “What can I do to help?” Then I realized people were posting links online of restaurants that were offering free meals to first responders and evacuees, or were opening their doors to the community – for shelter, WiFi, bathrooms, anything. I realized I could be helpful by putting together a list, and keep it updated, so people could find support.
Seeing the community really come together right now – to be there for the people who may need their services, supplies – has been heartwarming. We’ve seen reports of people taking advantage of this horrible situation by looting, but the people rallying together to help each other in the community far outnumber them. To see these little pockets of light is really important.
Sleeping is not easy right now. It’s all so tense. I saw a childhood friend posting online that their home in Palisades – which I used to visit as a child, where I had so many memories – has burned down. And hundreds of thousands are displaced. This has been a real wake-up call for disaster preparedness. Now we’re just gearing up for the next thing that happens. Lila Victor, 22, freelance journalist, Venice
