Los Angeles on fire: ‘Everything is lost’

Professional chef Darron Anderson always tells people he was “born in the kitchen” — literally.

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

On Thursday, the kitchen went up in the charred ruins of what was once a tightly-knit Altadena stand in Northeast Los Angeles.

He was looking for the iron pans in the hope they might survive the blaze, one of several historic fires in the area that have killed at least 16 people, destroyed several communities and left thousands homeless.

Across the street – number 296 – his friend Rachel’s house also lay in ashes. The house next door – 281 – is missing a place to enjoy a family party.

Three blocks away, on Devirian Place, where his girlfriend lives, some neighbors tried to fend off the roaring fire that consumed their garden.

After a fire destroyed an entire community in the shadow of the San Gabriel Mountains, they too are searching for treasure in the ruins.

It all started on Tuesday night.

Santa Ana winds were strong all day.

After 18:00 local time, Daron was trying to keep items in the yard from flying.

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

They exchanged worried glances. “That doesn’t sound good, does it?” she said.

At the time, they were only concerned about the wind.

Little did they know that one of the two worst wildfires in LA history had started just a few miles away, part of a days-long nightmare at the summit. Six fires At the same time, it threatens America’s second largest city.

The Eaton Fire, which tore through Altadena, has now burned more than 14,000 acres, destroyed thousands of homes and businesses, and killed 11 people. At the weekend, Eton is only 15% occupied.

In West L.A., the Palisades Fire, which started this morning, has burned more than 23,000 acres. A very active community to ashes and killed at least five people.

Darron’s next-door neighbor, 281 Dillon Acker, was at work at a donut stand in a Topanga mall — about 40 miles away — when smoke began to fill their neighborhood.

The 20-year-old quickly retreated after hearing the news, but the northwest corner of Altadena was pitch black and his family members left their home in anger.

His uncle jumped over a white picket 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 his haste he misplaced his keys and was lost 30 minutes until he found them blown over a fence in the smoky darkness.

During this desperate search, he told himself that the local authorities could bring the fire down the mountain to the house he shared with his mother, grandmother, aunt and two younger cousins.

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

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

At 12:30 a.m. Wednesday, Dillon said he and his mother were the last people off West Las Flores Drive. They might be the last to get out alive.

The next day, the authorities announce the discovery of a neighbor’s body in the street.

Rachel and Daron left the area two hours before Dillon. Rachel was forced by a friend to ask, “You have to leave now.”

Rachel – along with her husband, toddler, five cats and two days’ worth of clothes – said goodbye to the house they bought a year ago.

Darron also grabbed what he could: a guitar he bought at age 14, an extra in the film Money Karate, and a painting of his family crossing London’s Abbey Road, made to look like a Beatles album cover. .

As those on Las Flores Drive left, Daron’s neighbors tried to fight the fire a few blocks away.

At 417 Devirian Place, Hipolito Cisneros and his close friend and neighbor, Larry Villecas, who lived on the street at house number 416, grabbed garden hoses.

The scene outside looked like hell.

A house’s garage was engulfed in flames. So does the car in front of the other.

They laid hoses in several houses and washed the structures with water – including Daron’s girlfriend Sachin’s house.

“The water was just pushing. It didn’t even go in or anything,” Hipolito said of the bone-dry ground and brush around the houses.

Over time, they progressed by putting out the fire and raising the fire. Larry thought maybe they would win.

Then their pipes are dry – all reason Water pressure issues They would later learn that firefighting efforts in Los Angeles County were hampered by high demand.

An explosion was heard nearby, another house engulfed in flames. At 01:00, both families packed their things to leave.

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

At 02:30 on Wednesday morning, police cars rolled down the street with loudspeakers urging everyone to hurry.

Rounding the corner of the street, Larry looked in the rearview mirror of his truck as the garage burned.

By 03:00 the road was empty.

Much of the Los Angeles region is made up of neighborhoods and small communities like Altadena.

On any given morning, people would walk down the street to drink coffee at the Little Red Hen Coffee Shop, stopping to grab it on their way out to work in the morning.

Many described a tight-knit community that spanned decades, where they watched neighbors start families and children who once played in the street grow up.

But driving through the area for the first time since his world improved, Darron was unable to recognize his surroundings.

Gone was the big blue house that marked a typical turn. All the signs that once guided him are gone. He sniffs and points to each neighbor’s property when he realizes that none are standing.

He takes pictures of his and Rachel’s house and the street he shares with Dillon. Outside his girlfriend’s house – which Larry and Hipolito try to save – he takes videos and talks to their families before calling Sachi to explain the condition of her house.

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

But a few items remain among the rubble.

At his sister’s house on West Las Flores Drive, he found multicolored plastic lawn ornaments stuck in her lawn, somehow untouched by the fire.

He plucks each stick from the ground, knowing that these flower decorations can make her smile, even though they may feel useless in his destruction.

Across the street where their house once stood, a red brick chimney still stands. There is a pile of pottery around.

He gathers what he can from the dark shadow with his black hands, but many pieces scatter at his touch.

A burnt lemon tree sits in the grass, some of the fruit is still warm to the touch.

“If I get seeds, we can plant them again,” he says, holding up a handful.

“It’s a way to start over.”