BBCProfessional chef Darron Anderson always tells people that he was “born in the kitchen” – literally.
The 45-year-old was delivered via home birth at 295 West Las Flores Drive, where he lived with his mother until this week.
On Thursday, he stepped over the charred wreckage where his kitchen once stood in Altadena, a close-knit neighborhood northeast of Los Angeles.
He was searching for his cast iron pots in hopes they had survived the fire, one of several historic fires burning in the area that killed at least 16 people, decimated multiple communities and left thousands homeless.
Across the street – at No. 296 – his girlfriend Rachel's house was also reduced to ashes. The house next door – 281 – where he was enjoying family parties, has disappeared.
About three blocks away, on Deverian Place, where his girlfriend lives, some neighbors tried to fend off the raging flames consuming their homes with garden hoses.
Now, they too are searching for valuables in the rubble, after fire obliterated this entire community nestled in the shadows of the San Gabriel Mountains.
It all started Tuesday night.
Santa Ana winds were strong all day.
Darron was in his front yard just after 18:00 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, concerned about plastic snowflakes and her patio furniture.
They exchanged worried looks. “This doesn't look good, does it?” I noticed.
At that time, only the wind mattered to them.
They had no idea that one of the worst wildfires in Los Angeles history had just ignited just miles away, part of a days-long nightmare that would come to a head. Six flames At the same time, it threatens the second largest city in America
The Eaton Fire that has now swept through Altadena has burned more than 14,000 acres, destroyed thousands of homes and businesses, and left 11 people dead. By the end of the week, Eaton remained only 15% under control.
In West Los Angeles, the Palisades Fire, which started that morning, will continue to burn more than 23,000 acres, reducing Lots of vibrant community To ashes, killing at least five people.
Daron's next-door neighbor at No. 281, Dillon Akers, was working a donut stand at the Topanga Mall — about 40 miles away — when smoke began filling the neighborhood.
The 20-year-old rushed back when he heard the news, only to find his corner of northwest Altadena in darkness and his family members frantically evacuating their home.
His uncle jumped over their white picket fence to save precious seconds as he stuffed things into the back of his car.
For the next two hours, Dillon did the same, collecting food, medicine, clothes and toiletries. In the rush, he lost his keys, and lost 30 minutes searching with torches in the smoky darkness until he found them blown up on the fence.
During the desperate search, he kept telling himself that local authorities would be able to handle the fire that was roaring down the mountain toward the home he shared with his mother, grandmother, aunt and two younger cousins.
Dillon had encountered wind storms before, and seen smoke in the mountains, but this time his feeling was different. This time the orange glow in the sky was directly overhead.
“I was at 10 on the fear scale,” he said.
At 00:30 on Wednesday, Dillon said he and his mother were the last ones to leave West Las Flores Drive. They were probably the last ones to get out alive.
The next day, the authorities would announce that the remains of a neighbor had been discovered on the road.
Rachel and Daron had left the neighborhood about two hours before Dillon. Rachel was forced out by a friend who drove up to demand: “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 just a year ago.
Darron also got what he could: a guitar he bought when he was 14 with money he earned working as an extra in a karate movie and a painting of his family crossing Abbey Road in London, which was designed to look like the cover of the famous Beatles album. .
While residents of Las Flores Drive were evacuated, Daron's neighbors a few blocks away tried to fight the flames.
At 417 Deverian Place, Hipólito Cisneros and his close friend and neighbor Larry Veliscas, who lived across the street at house No. 416, seized garden hoses.
The scene outside looked hellish.
The garage of one of the houses caught fire. One car in front of another too.
They pulled water hoses from several homes and flooded them with water, including the home of Daron's girlfriend, Sachi.
“The water was coming up. It wasn't penetrating or nothing,” Hipolito said, referring to the dry soil and brush around the homes.
Over time, they made progress, washing the coals and lighting fires. Larry thought they might win.
Then their hoses ran dry – all because Water pressure issues They later learned they had hampered firefighting efforts across Los Angeles County amid intense demand.
An explosion was heard nearby and another house caught fire. By 01:00, both families were packing their belongings to leave.
“We tried. We really tried,” Hipolito said.
By 2:30 a.m. Wednesday, police cars cruised down their street with loudspeakers, telling everyone to leave immediately.
As he turned the corner on his street, Larry watched in his truck's rearview mirror as his garage caught fire.
By 03:00, the street was empty.
Much of the Los Angeles area is made up of small neighborhoods and communities like Altadena.
On any given morning, people would walk through the lines of homes to get a cup of coffee at The Little Red Hen Café, stopping to catch up as they left for work in the morning.
Many have described decades of a close-knit community here, watching neighbors start families and children who once played in the streets grow up.
But driving through the area for the first time since his world was turned upside down, Daron barely recognizes the neighborhood in which he lives.
The big blue house that was a familiar turn-off was gone. All the landmarks that once guided him were gone. He points to each neighbor's property, gasping when he realizes no one is standing.
He takes pictures of his house, Rachel's house, and the street he shares with Dillon. Outside his girlfriend's house – which Larry and Hipolito tried to save – he films videos and chats with their families before calling Sashi to describe the condition of her house.
“Oh my God, it's all gone,” he says, his voice cracking.
But there are still some items amid the ruins.
At his sister's house on West Las Flores Drive, he found multicolored plastic ornaments stuck in her garden, somehow untouched by the fire.
He picks each stake from the ground, knowing that although these flower decorations may seem insignificant amidst the devastation, they might also make her smile.
Across the street, where his house once stood, all that remains is a red brick chimney. Around him is a pile of clay pottery.
With his hands dark black with soot, he gathers what he can, but many of the pieces fall apart at his touch.
There is a burnt lemon tree in the grass, some of the fruit still warm to the touch.
“If I can get a seed, we can replant it,” he says, clutching a handful of seeds.
“It's like a way you can start over.”
