Los Angeles fires: ‘Everything is gone’

Chef Daron Anderson always tells people that he was “born in the kitchen” – literally.

The 45-year-old was born in a home at 295 West Las Flores Drive, where he lived with his mother until this week.

On Thursday, he walked past burning debris as his kitchen stood in Altadena, a conurbation northeast of Los Angeles.

He looks at his iron pans hoping to survive the fire, one of several in the region that has killed at least 16 people, destroyed many villages and left thousands homeless.

Across the street – at number 296 – her friend Rachel’s house is also in ashes. The house next door – 281 – where they enjoyed family parties, is gone.

About three blocks away, on Deviran Place, where her friend lives, other neighbors tried to contain the roaring fire that would destroy their homes and garden hoses.

Now they too are searching for valuables in the ruins, after a fire destroyed an entire village in the shadow of the San Gabriel Mountains.

It all started on Tuesday night.

Santa Ana winds were at their worst during the day.

Daron was in his front yard just after 18:00 local time trying to keep things from flying.

Across the street at 296 West Las Flores Drive, Rachel Gillespie was taking down Christmas decorations, worried about her plastic icles and patio furniture.

They looked at each other worriedly. “This doesn’t look good, does it?” he said.

At that time, it was only the wind that worried them.

Little did they know that one of the deadliest fires in LA’s history had just burned a few miles away, part of the daydream they would see at the peak. fire five immediately threatened the second largest city in America

The Eaton Fire that tore through Altadena has now burned more than 14,000 acres, destroyed thousands of homes and businesses, and left 11 dead. By the end of the week, Eaton had only 15% left.

West of LA, the Palisades fire, which started that morning, has spread to more than 23,000 acres, and is slowing down. information about the community ashes, and killed at least five people.

Daron’s neighbor at 281, Dillon Akers, was at work at the Topanga shopping center – about 40 miles away – when smoke began to fill their neighborhood.

The 20-year-old ran back after hearing the news, only to find his side in the northwest part of Altadena black and his family fleeing their home.

His uncle jumped his white fence to save precious seconds as he loaded things into the back of his car.

For the next two hours, Dillon did the same, gathering food, medicine, clothing and toiletries. In the rush, he misplaced his keys, and wasted 30 minutes searching in the dark with smoke and torches until he found them thrown over the fence.

While he was searching hard, he kept telling himself that the authorities in the area have overcome the fire that was coming down the hill to the house where he lived with his mother, his grandmother, his younger aunt and his two younger cousins.

Dillon had experienced storms before, and seen smoke in the mountains, but this time he felt different. This time the orange light in the sky was above.

“I was a 10 on the panic scale,” he said.

At 12:30 a.m. Wednesday, Dillon said he and his mother were the last people to leave West Las Flores Drive. They must have been the last ones to get out alive.

The next day the authorities will announce that the remains of a neighbor in the street have been found.

Rachel and Daron had left the area about two hours before Dillon. Rachel was forced out by her friend who went to ask: “You have to leave now.”

Rachel – with her wife, baby, five cats, and two days’ worth of clothes – said goodbye to the house she bought a year ago.

Daron also grabbed what he could: a guitar he bought when he was 14 with money he earned working as an extra in a karate film and a photo of his family crossing Abbey Road in London, which was made to look like a Beatles album cover. .

While those on Las Flores Drive were evacuated, Daron’s neighbors who were a few blocks away tried to fight the fire.

At 417 Deviran Place, Hipolito Cisneros and his best friend and neighbor Larry Villescas, who lived across the street at 416, grabbed the garden hose.

It looked terrible outside.

The garage of another house was on fire. A car in front of another, too.

They stretched pipes from several houses and doused the houses with water – including the house of Daron’s friend, Sachi.

“The water was just rushing. It wasn’t getting into anything,” said Hipolito, referring to the bone-dry ground that washed away around the house.

Over time, they went forward, removing coal and fire spots. Larry thought he could win.

Then their pipes dried up – all because of water problems He later found out that it had hampered fire services across Los Angeles County due to the high demand.

An explosion was heard nearby, a building was on fire. By 01:00, all their families had packed to leave.

“We tried. We really tried,” Hipolito said.

By 02:30 on Wednesday morning, police cars drove down their street with loudspeakers, telling everyone to leave immediately.

As he turned the corner of his driveway, Larry looked out the rear window of his car as his garage burned.

By 03:00, the road was deserted.

The greater Los Angeles area is made up of suburbs and smaller communities such as Altadena.

Every morning, people would line up to get a cup of coffee at The Little Red Hen Coffee Shop, stopping to find their way to work in the morning.

Many have recounted years of community togetherness here, as they watched neighbors start families and children who played in the streets grow up.

But driving through the area for the first time since his country was settled, Daron doesn’t recognize the neighborhood.

The big blue house that is known for its famous conversion is gone. All the signs leading him disappeared. He is pointing at each neighbor’s property, straining to realize that no one is standing.

She takes pictures of Rachel’s home and the street she shares with Dillon. Outside of his girlfriend – who Larry and Hipolito tried to save – he takes videos and chats with their families before calling Sachi to explain the situation at his house.

“God, it’s all gone,” he says, his voice cracking.

But a few things remain among the ruins.

At her sister’s home on West Las Flores Drive, she finds colorful plastic ornaments stuck in her lawn, somehow untouched by the fire.

He plucks every tree from the ground, knowing that even though these flower decorations may feel unnecessary in the midst of the destruction, they can also make him smile.

Across the street from where his house once stood, a red brick chimney is all that remains. Around him is a pile of pottery.

With his hands blackened from soot, he gathers what he can, but many pieces break with his touch.

A charred lemon tree sits on the lawn, some fruit still warm to the touch.

“If I find a seed, we can plant another one,” he says, holding out a hand.

“It’s like a way to start over.”