I should have known better before turning on the television.
For the second time in 15 years, my family and I had fled our hills. During the 2009 Station fire, we were notified of evacuation only when clouds of smoke filled the streets and flames were clearly visible on the nearby mountain slopes.
This time we left as soon as our phones rang with an evacuation warning alert. We had seen the horrible speed with which the fire had roared through the Palisades and, knowing that the fire had broken out near Eaton Canyon in Altadena, we endured a night in which our house shook under 85 mile per hour winds. In the morning, the power had been out for hours, we had little to no cell service and radio coverage, although obsessed with the Palisades and then Malibu, they also mentioned further devastation in Altadena.
Outside, the sky was filled with clouds so dark they looked like a computer-generated representation of hell, and the mandatory evacuation area was just three blocks away. The moment the wind died down enough for us to pack up the car, we left.
Driving south on 2, I looked and saw what it took me three seconds to recognize as the sun, now an orb that looked like it belonged on a different planet.
Once we reached our destination, I began what would become a 24-hour obsession with fire maps: on The Times' website, the Watch Duty app, protect.genasys.com. None of that told me what I wanted to know: How fast was the fire moving toward my house and those of my friends and neighbors?
It was difficult to know. My colleagues have done a heroic job detailing the devastation in Altadena, with photographs and reports of fires racing downhill, destroying homes and businesses with the same ferocity as they did in the Palisades. I answered texts from friends and family optimistically, while jumping from all the maps to social media to Next Door, hoping to get a sense of the actual fire line west of the main fire, only to find conflicting reports.
Knowing from experience that the foothills remain a mystery to those who don't live there (it was days before the Station fire occupied the top half of the news), I monitored the well-being of NASA's Jet Propulsion Laboratory. If that burned down, there would be cameras present. My colleague Jessica Gelt reported that Gamble House and Descanso Gardens appeared to be in no danger, which, being only a few miles from my house, was a huge relief.
But as night approached and my fingers began to spasm from using the phone, I gave in and turned on the TV.
It was a big mistake.
The first thing I saw was a local fire chief giving a somber tour of the devastation in the Palisades. I suppose the camera crew had required official accompaniment to film, but all I could think was that here was a firefighter giving a follow-up interview while thousands of acres and homes continued to burn.
The images were horrifying, but they offered no information beyond what many media outlets had already provided, including and especially The Times, as well as hundreds of residents posting on social media. The presenters made the appropriate comments of shock and pain while I squirmed in my seat wondering where the various lines of fire really were at that moment.
The coverage was then interrupted by a press conference led by Los Angeles Mayor Karen Bass, ostensibly to provide updates on the various fires, including, presumably, the Eaton fire. This crisis has not been, by any means, Bass's best moment. He left the country despite warnings about high winds and fire-risk conditions and returned to find the city in flames. He has refused to answer questions and criticisms about his departure, the city's apparent lack of preparedness, reports about the delay between the Palisades fire eruption and a coordinated response, and the clear understaffing of the Los Angeles Fire Department. .
I didn't expect her to address any of these things at this press conference; I was in a crisis situation and this was not the time for that. However, I hoped that she would provide me updates. You know, to tell us exactly what was going on. Maybe get out some maps that reveal not only the evacuation areas but also some idea of the actual firing lines. Analyze how much water and fire retardant had been dumped, when and where, and whether it was being effective. Something.
Instead, he blamed the wind. Not in a terribly informative way: there is no mention of possible changes or increases and what they could mean for each fire. Just a dramatic reminder of how strong the winds had been (Um, mayor? Us were there) and how fast the Palisades fire moved (ditto). Of course, there is no mention of the Eaton fire, in which at least four people deceased.
He then noted that many more people may be receiving evacuation orders, where? They let us guess and reminded us to pay attention. (Many of us had, so we were hoping for that update.) Obviously reading from a prepared script, he urged Angelenos to help each other and expressed confidence that we would rebuild.
I'm sure we will, but again, there was an air of sequel, like we needed to start moving forward, get out of the rubble. But the debris kept happening, all over the damn place, and while condolences and stiff spines are important, at that moment, tens of thousands of people were yearning information.
Especially those who don't live in Palisades, Malibu and other Westside neighborhoods.
I realize that Altadena and the foothill communities (except Pasadena) are not high-profile places nor are they as closely associated with the rich and famous (although the rich and famous live there too, and many lost their homes in the Eaton fire). It was as iconic as the Reel Inn to local residents, as was the Eaton Canyon Nature Center.
Not that this matters. Both neighborhoods are vital centers in the expansion of Los Angeles, and both have been destroyed with unimaginable speed and ferocity. There is a beloved community, a paradise for its residents, and then, horribly, it disappears.
But the fires continue to burn.
There will be time to mourn, condolences and rebuild collectively, when they are no more, when all communities are safe. For now, however, thousands of Angelenos remain evacuated from their homes, without clear knowledge of how close they are (or are not) to losing them. The catastrophic winds appear to have subsided and exhausted firefighters have helped from the air, but the level of anxiety remains paralyzing. (It certainly didn't help calm nerves when an emergency evacuation alert was mistakenly sent to dozens of Los Angeles County residents Thursday afternoon, followed by an equally loud correction.)
Our neighborhood remains under an evacuation warning, which means we could return home. But while I was writing this, a fire broke out in nearby Big Tujunga and, according to Next Door, there is still no power and poor air quality. So we stayed still.
Angelenos are resilient, resourceful, and quick to unify in times of disaster. But it's hard to know what to do if we don't know what's really going on. Journalists can only do so much in times like these, and Times journalists have done a lot. But they can only work with the information they are given.
If Bass and other leaders want to make up for the fact that they clearly fell short, they need to offer more, clearer information. When you've run away from home, you shouldn't have to rely on Next Door to find out what's really happening.
