Los Angeles is a geographical marvel. Mountains rise majestically on the horizon. Hillsides and canyons offer respite for explorers and dog owners. Shores and towering cliffs above the coastline call out. Within this magnificent natural backdrop, we have established a space where nature and urbanity are intertwined, blending not just expressways but also neighborhoods and thoroughfares. We stand as the sole major metropolis worldwide where mountain lions wander the streets. Only Mumbai and its leopards come close in comparison. Here, mountain lions predominantly conceal themselves during daylight hours but emerge at night, often caught on doorbell cameras stealthily entering backyards and vaulting over fences.
We have brought plumbing and electricity to the Los Angeles wilderness. Yet, we have not subdued it. How could we? Living here means we engage in a precarious struggle with nature, rather than entering a partnership with it. We are aware that earthquakes occur – there are numerous faults beneath us – yet as an afterthought, we remind ourselves that it’s a high-risk, low-likelihood occurrence. This thought provides us with comfort at night, perhaps wrapped in a false sense of security under our roofs.
Though we realize wildfires happen, they usually get contained rather swiftly and in regions where thorny underbrush and foothills are not adequately managed, where homeowners haven’t trimmed their trees or where insatiable goats are present. We believe they manifest in areas lacking proper grazing.
We were mistaken.
The deficiency of considerable rainfall since May (excluding the light drizzle on my windshield on Christmas Eve) coupled with an unusually severe occurrence of relentless storm systems likened to hurricanes implied that on Tuesday, fire could ignite in the backyard of the Pacific Palisades. By morning, an unimaginable blaze swept into the region, decimating entire coastal sections in mere minutes. Shortly after, a fire erupted in Altadena, annihilating the community. The following day, the Palisades Fire ravaged thousands of acres with 0% containment reported.
By week’s end, six fires were raging throughout Los Angeles County, consuming large stretches of the Palisades and Altadena, alongside Malibu, the San Fernando Valley, and parts of Los Angeles and the Hollywood Hills adjacent to the Ventura county line. Families lost their homes, and we collectively mourned the loss of Will Rogers’ historic ranch home, part of the Will Rogers State Historic Park in the Palisades. Flames devoured everything. Thick black smoke surged eastward toward the historic Mount Wilson Observatory, with flames licking at the grounds of the renowned Getty Villa, which contains invaluable artifacts. Fortunately, both have thus far endured, with the Getty Villa likely benefitting from surrounding brush clearance and fire-resistant construction.
What transpired last week shattered all our beliefs about Los Angeles’ peace with Mother Nature. It was misguided to assume that our infrastructure could shield us from this disaster.
Having lived here for over three decades and weathering fires, I, like any other Angeleno, always understood the potential for disaster. During my time here, countless fires have occurred, making me ponder if Los Angeles may face destruction from fire more rapidly than from the significant earthquake for which we ought to be preparing.
I reside adjacent to a grove of eucalyptus, known for its flammability. The splendor beyond my window greatly influenced my decision to settle here. A friend dubbed it “Tree House.” Every time the trees sway violently in the arid winds, I panic, anxiously searching for signs of fire.
The wildfire that scorched the hillside above my residence never descended into my neighborhood. However, I have heard police patrol that street at 3 a.m., instructing residents to evacuate.
On Thursday afternoon, while penning this article, an emergency evacuation alert was issued in my vicinity. I scrambled to pack. How does one determine the most precious items to include in a bag for a few nights? Before I could hastily toss in a few belongings, my phone rang once more. The evacuation advisory was a false alarm. I felt a wave of relief. Yet perhaps my anxiety was more warranted, and the relief signified a return to denial that enables me to navigate daily life in this perilous environment.
Angelenos are incensed by the inadequate emergency alert systems, yet they represent only a fragment of the issues spotlighted by the inferno. Overwhelmed by the immense demand, fire hydrants in the Palisades’ hills ran dry, particularly after fierce winds impeded aircraft from dropping water in specific areas. City officials attribute this to a lack of pressure in the water supply. Should the city overhaul its fire hydrant infrastructure? This might seem adequate for a few small blazes, but what about when the hydrant system needs renovation? Or was this merely a once-in-a-generation fire that depleted the city’s water resources?
I have additional inquiries. Critics have chastised Mayor Karen Bass for being abroad during Tuesday’s fire and for reducing the fire department’s budget; however, city administrators ultimately announced that the overall budget would see an increase, enhancing firefighting capacity, claiming that it had no negative impact.
The bus was evidently unable to quell the fire. (She is not Moses.) Nonetheless, what she must focus on now is fulfilling her commitment to assist residents in positively rebuilding. “The red tape, the bureaucracy, all of it has to disappear,” she stated on Friday. It serves everyone. To sustain a livelihood in this wilderness, we require all the support we can obtain.