BBCProfessional chef Daron Anderson always tells people he was “born in the kitchen” – literally.
The 45-year-old gave birth at home at 295 West Las Flores Drive, where he lived with his mother until this week.
On Thursday, he stepped over charred debris where his kitchen once stood in Altadena, a close-knit neighborhood in northeast Los Angeles.
He was searching for his cast iron skillets in hopes they might have survived the fire, one of several historic fires burning in the area that have killed at least 16 people, decimated several communities and left thousands homeless.
Across the street, at number 296, her friend Rachel’s house is also in ashes. The neighboring house, number 281, where he enjoyed family celebrations, has disappeared.
About three blocks away, on Devirian Place, where his girlfriend lived, neighbors tried to push back the roaring flames that would consume their homes with garden hoses.
Now they, too, are searching the rubble for valuable artifacts after a fire destroyed this entire community nestled in the shadow of the San Gabriel Mountains.
It all started Tuesday evening.
Santa Ana winds were strong most of the day.
Daron was in his yard just after 6:00 p.m. local time, trying to keep things from flying away.
Across the street at 296 West Las Flores Drive, Rachel Gillespie was taking down Christmas decorations, worried about her plastic icicles and patio furniture.
They exchanged worried looks. “That doesn’t look good, does it?” she remarked.
At the time, only the wind worried them.
Little did they know that one of the two worst wildfires in Los Angeles history had just broken out just miles away, part of a days-long nightmare that, at its peak, would see six fires simultaneously threatening the second largest city in the United States
The Eaton Fire that ravaged Altadena has now scorched more than 14,000 acres, destroying thousands of homes and businesses, and leaving 11 people dead. Over the weekend, Eaton was only 15% contained.
In West Los Angeles, the Palisades Fire, which broke out that morning, would burn more than 23,000 acres, reducing a very dynamic community reduced to ashes and killing at least five people.
Daron’s neighbor at House 281, Dillon Akers, was working at a donut stand in the Topanga Mall — about 40 miles away — as smoke began to fill their neighborhood.
The 20-year-old rushed out when he heard the news, only to find his corner of northwest Altadena in pitch black and family members frantically evacuating their home.
His uncle jumped over their white picket fence to gain precious seconds while stuffing items 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 the smoky darkness with torches until he found them thrown against a fence.
During his desperate search, he kept telling himself that local authorities would be able to control the fire that was racing down the mountain toward the home he shared with his mother, his grandmother, his aunt and her two young cousins.
Dillon had weathered windstorms and seen smoke in the mountains before, but this time was different. This time, the orange glow in the sky was directly above us.
“I was at a fear level of 10,” 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 may have been the last to come out alive.
The next day, authorities announced that the remains of a neighbor down the street had been discovered.
Rachel and Daron had left the neighborhood about two hours before Dillon. Rachel was forced out by a friend who came and asked, “You have to leave now.” »
Rachel – along with her wife, toddler, five cats and two days’ worth of clothes – said goodbye to the house they bought a year earlier.
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 painting of his family crossing Abbey Road in London, made to resemble the iconic Beatles album cover. .
As residents of Las Flores Drive evacuated, Daron’s neighbors a few blocks away attempted to fight the flames.
At 417 Devirian Place, Hipolito Cisneros and his close friend and neighbor Larry Villescas, who lived across the street at number 416, grabbed the garden hoses.
The scene outside looked hellish.
The garage of a house was on fire. One car in front of another too.
They stretched hoses from several homes and sprayed structures with water, including the home of Daron’s girlfriend, Sachi.
“The water was just being pushed back. It wasn’t even getting in or nothing,” Hipolito said, referring to the dry earth and brush around the homes.
Over time, they progressed, dousing the embers and locating the fires. Larry thought they could win.
Then their pipes went dry – all because of water pressure problems they would later learn that it had hampered firefighting efforts in Los Angeles County amid intense demand.
An explosion rang out nearby, another house caught fire. Around 1 a.m., both of their families were packing up to leave.
“We tried. We really tried,” Hipolito said.
Around 2:30 a.m. Wednesday morning, police cars drove down their street with a loudspeaker, ordering everyone to leave immediately.
As he rounded the corner, Larry watched in the rearview mirror of his truck as his garage caught fire.
Around 3 a.m., the street was empty.
Much of the Los Angeles area is made up of neighborhoods and small communities, much like Altadena.
Every morning, people walked through the lines of housing to get a cup of coffee at the Little Red Hen Coffee Shop, stopping to catch up before heading off to work in the morning.
Many described decades of a tight-knit community here, 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 was turned upside down, Daron barely recognizes his neighborhood.
The big blue house that marked a familiar turning point has disappeared. All the landmarks that once guided him have disappeared. He points out each neighbor’s properties, gasping when he realizes none are standing.
He takes photos of his and Rachel’s house and the street he shares with Dillon. Outside his girlfriend’s house – which Larry and Hipolito tried to save – he takes videos and chats with their families before calling Sachi to describe the state of his house.
“My God, it’s all gone,” he said, his voice breaking.
But a few objects remain among the ruins.
At his sister’s house on West Las Flores Drive, he finds multi-colored plastic lawn decorations stuck in her lawn, which were somehow untouched by the fire.
He pulls each stake out of the ground, knowing that while these floral decorations may seem insignificant amid the devastation, they might also make her smile.
Across the street, in what was once his house, all that remains is a red brick chimney. Around is a pile of clay pottery.
With his sooty hands, he picks up what he can, but many pieces disintegrate when touched.
A charred lemon tree sits on the lawn, with some fruit still warm to the touch.
“If I can get a seed, we can replant one,” he said, grabbing a handful.
“It’s like a way to start again.”
