BBCProfessional chef Darron Anderson always tells people he was “born in the kitchen”—quite literally.
The 45-year-old was delivered through a home birth at 295 West Las Flores Drive, where she lived with her mother until this week.
On Thursday, he stepped over the charred ruins where his kitchen once stood in Altadena, a tight-knit neighborhood in northeast Los Angeles.
He was looking for his cast-iron pans in the hope they might survive the fire, one of several historic blazes burning in the region that have killed at least 16 people and destroyed multiple communities and left thousands homeless.
Across the street – at number 296 – her friend Rachel's house also sits in ashes. The house next door – 281 – where he used to enjoy family parties, is gone.
About three blocks away, on Devirian Place, where his girlfriend lived, some neighbors tried to douse the roaring flames that would engulf their homes with garden hoses.
After a fire destroyed this entire community living in the shadow of the San Gabriel Mountains, now they too are searching for valuables in the ruins.
It all started on Tuesday night.
Santa Ana winds were strong most of the day.
Daron was in his front yard just after 18:00 local time trying to secure things from flying away.
Across the street at 296 West Las Flores Drive, Rachel Gillespie was picking up Christmas decorations, worrying about her plastic snow and patio furniture.
They exchanged worried glances. “It doesn't feel good, does it?” he commented.
At that time, it was only the wind that worried them.
They had no idea that one of the two worst wildfires in LA history was burning just a few miles away, part of a day-long nightmare that would see its peak. Six fires At the same time threatening America's second largest city
The Eaton fire that tore through Altadena has now burned more than 14,000 acres, destroyed thousands of homes and businesses, and killed 11 people. Over the weekend, Eaton remained at only 15%.
In West LA, the Palisades Fire, which started that morning, would burn more than 23,000 acres. A very vibrant community cremated, and killed at least five people.
Darron's next-door neighbor in house number 281, Dillon Akers, was working at a donut stand at the Topanga Mall — about 40 miles away — when smoke began to fill their neighborhood.
The 20-year-old returned after hearing the news, only to find Black Black and his family frantically evacuating their home on the corner of northwest Altadena.
His uncle jumped over their white picket fence to save precious seconds as he stuffed his belongings into the back of his car.
For the next two hours, Dillon did the same, collecting food, medicine, clothes and toiletries. In his haste, he forgot his keys, and spent 30 minutes searching with a torch in the smoky darkness until he found them blown against the fence.
During the desperate search, she kept telling herself that local authorities would be able to contain the fire that was roaring down the hill toward the home she shared with her mother, grandmother, aunt and two younger cousins.
Dillon had encountered a storm earlier and seen smoke in the mountains, but this time felt different. This time there was an orange glow in the sky directly overhead.
“I was a perfect 10 on the fear scale,” he said.
At 00:30 on Wednesday, Dillon said he and his mother were the last to leave West Las Flores Drive. They may be the last ones to come out alive.
The next day authorities would announce that the remains of a neighbor had been discovered under the road.
Rachel and Daron left the neighborhood about two hours before Dillon. Rachel was forced out by a friend who went on to claim: “You have to leave now.”
Rachel – with his wife, kids, five cats and two days' worth of clothes – said goodbye to the house they bought a year ago.
Darron also grabbed what he could: a guitar he bought when he was 14 with earnings working as an extra in a karate film, and a painting of his family crossing Abbey Road in London, which looks like the iconic Beatles album cover. .
Daron's neighbors tried to fight the fire a few blocks away as people on Las Flores Drive were evacuated.
At 417 Devirian Place, Hipolito Cisneros and his close friend and neighbor Larry Villescas, who lived across the street at 416, grabbed a garden hose.
The scene outside was hellish.
A fire broke out in the garage of a house. One car is in front of another.
They extended hoses from multiple homes and flooded structures, including the home of Darren's girlfriend Sachi.
“The water was just rolling away. It wasn't even infiltration or anything,” Hipolito said, referring to the bone-dry ground and brush around the house.
Over time, they made progress, eliminating embers and spot fires. Larry thought they might win.
Then their hoses run dry – for all the reasons Water pressure problem They later learned that intense demand had hampered firefighting efforts across Los Angeles County.
An explosion was heard nearby, another house burst into flames. By 01:00, both their families were packing to leave.
“We tried. We really tried,” Hipolito said.
By 02:30 on Wednesday morning, police cars came down their street with loudspeakers, telling everyone to leave immediately.
As he turned the corner on his street, Larry saw in his truck's rear-view mirror that his garage was on fire.
By 03:00, the road was empty.
Much of the Los Angeles area is made up of neighborhoods and small communities like Altadena.
On any given morning, people would walk through the house line to grab a cup of coffee at The Little Red Hen Coffee Shop, stopping to catch up on their morning commute.
Many describe the tight-knit community here for decades, where they've watched neighbors start families and children who once played on the streets grow up.
But driving through the area for the first time since his world was turned upside down, Doron barely recognizes his neighbors.
The big blue house marking a familiar intersection is gone. The landmarks that once guided him have all but disappeared. He points out each neighbor's property, gasping to realize that no one is standing.
He took pictures of his and Rachel's house and the street they shared with Dillon. Outside his girlfriend's house – which Larry and Hipolito tried to save – he videos and chats with their family before calling Sachi to describe the state of his house.
“God, it's all over,” she says, her voice hoarse.
But some things remain among the ruins.
At his sister's house on West Las Flores Drive, he found multicolored plastic lawn ornaments stuck on her lawn, somehow untouched by the fire.
He plucked each stake from the ground, knowing that while these flower decorations might seem trivial in the destruction, they might also make him smile.
Across the street from what was once his house, lies a red brick chimney. Heaps of earthen pots around.
He gathered what he could with a hand dark from ink, but many pieces broke at his touch.
A scorched lemon tree sits on the lawn, some fruit still warm to the touch.
“If I can get a seed, we can replant one,” he says, holding up a handful.
“It's like a way you can start over.”