Wildfires have previously approached the Pacific Palisades.
Just in 2018, the devastating Woolsey Fire wreaked havoc in the Malibu neighborhood. There were other close calls. In 2019, there were evacuations due to wildfires. The following year, a fire ravaged nearby remote and steep terrain.
Still, even with flames roaring on the hillsides adjacent to the neighborhood and trees swaying in the fierce winds, it was hard to fathom what was coming.
This firestorm will eventually share the name of the community it consumes, causing unexpected fear. It surged forward, but little remained behind. The Palisades Fire is one of several large fires that have exploded across Los Angeles since Tuesday, fanned by polar winds blowing through the arid terrain.
Preliminary estimates based on satellite imagery indicate more than 12,000 structures were lost across Los Angeles County. At least 16 people have died, and authorities say the death toll is certain to rise.
Some residents were able to return to areas they had to evacuate, and many hiked or biked through the burned canyon’s back roads to reach areas that were still closed.
For them, and for the thousands of others who will return in the coming days, the magnitude of the loss is only just beginning to sink in.
“It’s not just my home, it’s the loss of the community,” said Ricky Gordon, who bought his Palisades home in 1987.
Gordon’s house was spared damage, but it remained surrounded by a sea of destruction. She said she wouldn’t be able to live without her neighbors. “It’s about losing people you know.”
She paused and looked out over the wreckage-lined cliffs to the shores of the Pacific Ocean below. Her 34-year-old son, Alex Pack, joined her to survey the damage on the block and was surprised at how many homes still held memories of his childhood.
“LA is a very big city, but the Palisades is one of the few places that feels like a small town,” he said. “I never thought something like this would happen here,” he added. “This kind of thing must never happen again.”
Smoke had not yet cleared from the top of the still smoldering ruins. The wind was still fierce, gusts swirling through the ash and dust, sharpening the air. Broken glass and scattered power lines littered the streets, along with fallen branches, increasing the danger.
Gordon and Puck were just two of many residents grieving not only for their homes and belongings reduced to ashes, but also for the futures they had envisioned here and the memories buried beneath the rubble.
Daniel Clive McCollum stands in the footprint of his former home in Topanga Canyon, a rural area prone to extreme conditions, to protect his two-year-old and 11-month-old daughters and start a family in the Palisades. He told the story of how he and his wife left home. , was able to grow up without fear of fire.
As others evacuated Tuesday night, he stayed behind and rushed to help prepare the homes of his neighbors, who had moved in with children of similar ages just a few months earlier. He threw buckets of water outside to move vegetation blown away by violent gusts of wind away from the building.
The fire had already consumed the houses at the end of the block and embers were raining down on him, but he realized there was nothing else he could do. His hose has dried up. He knew his house would burn.
“No one stopped it. No one could stop it,” he said. “The wind was too strong.”
It’s still hard to process, he said. The playground the children used to go to is gone. Movie theaters, cafes, neighborhoods are all gone. Even if his home manages to survive the night, “you can’t raise a child in a war zone,” he says. “It went from a safe sanctuary to a toxic, poisonous, dangerous sanctuary.”
“I came here with the intention of taking something home,” he added. “But there’s literally nothing.”
Even for those accustomed to high fire danger, the Palisades fire shattered assumptions about which areas are safe.
But the extreme weather that set the stage for this disaster, and others across Los Angeles this week, will only get worse as the world warms. The lack of seasonal rain in the Southern California area made it highly flammable. Otherwise, the previous winter’s storm would have dampened the thick vegetation. The state has always oscillated between booms and busts in the hydrological cycle, but climate change is accelerating it and increasing the risks.
Despite cold winter weather, nearly 100 fires broke out in California in the first 10 days of the year, CalFire officials said. Strong winds and other conditions that encourage wildfires to spread rapidly will continue next week, adding challenges to containment efforts and potentially creating new disasters.
Another group of neighbors gathered down the street from McCallum’s house to see if they too could salvage something from the ruins. As they carefully navigated the torn utility poles and fallen branches that still littered the streets, they discussed what was to come. A woman sighs as she climbs a flight of stairs that lead nowhere, gazing at the shattered, gray layers of matter. She had heard the day before that the building was still standing. In response, the fire returned.
Grief is hitting the people here quickly, but they are clinging to hope despite the loss of this area: its shops, schools, churches, cafes, residential neighborhoods where countless families have made memories over the past 50 years. There are some people. So that we can recover together.
Jerry Blank, whose local facility has been training karate to local children, adults and celebrities for decades, was confident he could return home soon with just a few days worth of clothes left. The beloved home and business of many in the Palisades are both gone, but he’s looking to rebuild them.
Supporters have so far raised more than $10,500 for housing and food for him and his daughter through GoFundMe, as well as a new building for the area that is considered “more than just a place of learning, but a symbol of resilience.” A dojo was built.
It signals that even if the infrastructure is gone, the community will probably remain in some form.
We still have a long way to go.
“I’ve been here 43 years,” he said, noting how many students he’s heard from who have also lost their homes. Another resident said Blank represents the heart of the town, the biggest attraction of every parade.
Blank smiled. Before heading back to his car to walk away from the destruction, he took one last look and said, “Maybe there won’t be a parade this year.”
