Los Angeles truly offers a landscape unlike any other. With towering mountains in the distance, it’s a paradise for hikers and dog walkers alike, who find solace in its hillsides and canyons. The city’s beaches and coastal cliffs are relentless in their allure. We’ve managed to weave our neighborhoods and streets, not to mention those infamous freeways, right through this natural wonder. It’s a peculiar blend of wilderness and metropolis. Remarkably, LA stands alone among megacities for having mountain lions prowling its neighborhoods; only Mumbai, with its leopards, comes close. These local mountain lions tend to stay hidden during the day, only making their presence known at night as they stealthily traverse backyards and climb over fences, caught occasionally on doorbell cameras.
Despite plumbing and electrifying the rugged terrain of Los Angeles, taming it isn’t something we can claim to have accomplished. It feels more like an uneasy truce with nature rather than a pact. Earthquakes? We expect them, given the network of fault lines beneath us, but we reassure ourselves they’re rare enough to not lose sleep over, even if that may offer a false sense of security beneath our roofs.
Wildfires are another concern, yet we often assume they’ll be quickly contained, limited to foothills or areas with unchecked vegetation—places left uncleared by homeowners or untended by grazing goats.
Turns out, those assumptions were dangerously naive.
An unprecedented sequence of events—months without significant rain, and a relentless windstorm—sparked a fire on a Tuesday morning in Pacific Palisades. Starting, perhaps, in a backyard, it swiftly transformed into a raging inferno, sweeping through the coastal areas in mere minutes. Another blaze erupted in Altadena, consuming whole neighborhoods. By the next day, the Palisades fire had ravaged thousands of acres, and firefighters had yet to contain any of it.
By week’s end, six separate fires blazed across Los Angeles County, devastating not only the Palisades and much of Altadena but also areas in Malibu, the San Fernando Valley, near the Ventura County border, and the Hollywood Hills. Many lost their homes, and we all mourned the destruction of Will Rogers’ historic ranch home in Will Rogers State Historic Park. The flames showed no mercy. Fumes filled the sky near the historic Mt. Wilson Observatory, and flames even threatened to reach the famed Getty Villa, treasured for its priceless artifacts. Thankfully, both have survived, aided by strategic brush clearance and fire-resistant construction.
The events of this past week have shattered any illusions we had about our so-called accord with Los Angeles’ untamed nature. Our infrastructure, we now know, is not nearly as reliable as we thought in the face of such formidable fires.
Having called this city home for over three decades, I’ve been fortunate enough to evade fire’s menace. But like every Angeleno, I’ve always known the risk was real. There have been so many fires over the years that sometimes, one wonders if flames will destroy this city before the much-anticipated earthquake does.
Living next to a grove of highly flammable eucalyptus trees, I’m constantly reminded of this fact. Their grace is part of the reason I settled here—my “treehouse,” as a friend calls it. But whenever gusts make those trees sway, I’m alert for any hint of danger.
While the wildfires have charred the hills above my home, they’ve never ventured into my neighborhood. Yet, I’ve witnessed the police making late-night rounds, urging residents to evacuate.
I was in the middle of writing this article on a Thursday afternoon when an emergency alert announced an evacuation warning for my area. In a panic, I began packing—a frantic exercise in selecting a few precious items to fit into overnight bags. Relief washed over me when a follow-up alert declared it a false alarm, yet maybe my initial panic was more suitable; perhaps my relief simply shunted me back into the denial we adopt to live our day-to-day lives amid this stark reality.
Locals are upset about the erratic emergency alert system, yet it’s just the tip of the iceberg that this ongoing disaster has uncovered. With resources stretched thin—aircraft for water drops were even grounded by severe winds—fire hydrants ran dry in the elevated areas of the Palisades. The city officials blamed a lack of water pressure. Does this mean we need an overhaul of the hydrant systems that usually suffice for smaller incidents, or was this a freak occurrence beyond the city’s capability?
There’s also scrutiny on Mayor Karen Bass, who was abroad when the fires began on Tuesday. Some criticize her for budget cuts to the Fire Department, though city officials insist that overall funding increased and firefighting capabilities weren’t compromised.
It’s clear that Bass alone couldn’t have prevented the fires from breaking out—she isn’t omnipotent. But her next move is crucial; following through on her vow to expedite rebuilding is paramount. “Red tape, bureaucracy—all of it must go,” she emphasized on Friday. For us to continue carving out lives in this wilderness, we’ll need every bit of assistance we can muster.
