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NDTV
04-07-2025
- General
- NDTV
6 Months After LA Wildfires, Recreational Vehicles Is One Way Victims Are Coping
Altadena: Terry Kilgore lives alone in his Altadena neighborhood in California, sleeping in a recreational vehicle and surrounded by empty lots that were once the site of family homes. In January, those homes were burned to the ground. Six months after the wildfires that devastated the eastern and western flanks of Los Angeles, Kilgore's RV solution is one way victims are coping as the arduous rebuilding effort goes on. "You would never know it but it was pretty here. It's never going to be pretty like it was," said Kilgore, 70, a rock 'n' roll guitarist and lifelong Altadena resident. "The place I grew up in is gone forever. It's a memory." The fires broke out on January 7, when dry desert winds whipped over mountain passes with hurricane force, following eight months without rain. The Eaton Fire, in Los Angeles County just east of the city, devastated the community of Altadena, while the Palisades Fire leveled much of the coastal Pacific Palisades district. The fires killed 22 people, destroyed nearly 12,000 homes and caused as much as $53.8 billion in property damage, according to a report by the Los Angeles County Economic Development Corporation. While many homeowners complain about delays, L.A. city and county officials say rebuilding progress has exceeded initial expectations. About 75% of the 4,398 residential lots destroyed or severely damaged in the city of Los Angeles have been cleared of debris and are certified for rebuilding, according to a spokesperson for Mayor Karen Bass. In Altadena, in the foothills of the San Gabriel Mountains, there are still a few burnt-out and boarded-up businesses. Some are strewn with rubble. But most of the residential lots are cleared and free of char. One source of Altadena's charm - its proximity to nature - also made it vulnerable to wildfire. Black and Latino families have lived in Altadena for generations and the suburb is also popular with younger artists and engineers working at the nearby NASA rocket lab who were attracted by the small-town vibe and spectacular mountain views. Now the town is dotted with signs of "Altadena is not for sale," reflecting concerns that speculators and developers may turn what had been rows of neat bungalows into gaudy cash cows. Kilgore's RV is parked within a sea of razed lots and the occasional home that is still standing but vacant due to smoke damage. Many homeowners are crashing with friends and family, or renting during the rebuild, but others, like Kilgore, have chosen to live on their properties in RVs. Jose Luis Martinez, 71, a retired electrician born in El Salvador, had been in his home 38 years when it burned down. Uninsured like Kilgore, and living on Social Security, he has no long-term plan but decided to hold onto the property and camp in an RV. Others received insurance payments. Retired pastor Edwin Isaacs, 64, paid off his mortgage and is happy to live on his property condition-free in an RV, while Marialyce Pedersen has parked a trailer on her property while she rebuilds. "I was 61 years old and ready to retire and enjoy my pool and my life. I love that my land is still here," she said. "Here it feels familiar, like the right place for my body to be." Kilgore, who once played with former Van Halen frontman David Lee Roth, says he lost some of his best guitars in the fire, including a 1953 Fender Telecaster and a 1904 Parlor, along with an estimated $120,000 in equipment from his home studio. He said he saved five guitars that he grabbed on his way out the door to evacuate. He once lived in a comfortable home with a high ceiling and tree-filled yard. Now he sweats inside a Bounder RV and washes and shaves with cold hose water in an outdoor basin. His main goal, he said, is to re-record all his original music that was lost in the fire. "That's probably what's left for me to do," Kilgore said. "I could die after that, for all I care. I've seen enough of this monkey show, I'm telling you." (Except for the headline, this story has not been edited by NDTV staff and is published from a syndicated feed.)
TimesLIVE
03-07-2025
- General
- TimesLIVE
Six months after LA wildfires, some adjust to new life in vehicles
Terry Kilgore lives alone in his Altadena neighbourhood in California, sleeping in a recreational vehicle and surrounded by empty lots that were once the site of family homes. In January, those homes were burnt to the ground. Six months after the wildfires that devastated the eastern and western flanks of Los Angeles, Kilgore's RV solution is one way victims are coping as the arduous rebuilding effort goes on. 'You would never know it but it was pretty here. It's never going to be pretty like it was,' said Kilgore, 70, a rock 'n' roll guitarist and lifelong Altadena resident. 'The place I grew up in is gone forever. It's a memory.' The fires broke out on January 7, when dry desert winds whipped over mountain passes with hurricane force, after eight months without rain. The Eaton Fire, in Los Angeles County just east of the city, devastated the community of Altadena, while the Palisades Fire levelled much of the coastal Pacific Palisades district. The fires killed 22 people, destroyed nearly 12,000 homes and caused as much as $53.8bn in property damage, according to a report by the Los Angeles County Economic Development Corporation. While many homeowners complain about delays, city and county officials say rebuilding progress has exceeded initial expectations. About 75% of the 4,398 residential lots destroyed or severely damaged in the city of Los Angeles have been cleared of debris and are certified for rebuilding, according to a spokesperson for mayor Karen Bass. In Altadena, in the foothills of the San Gabriel Mountains, there are still a few burnt-out and boarded-up businesses. Some are strewn with rubble. But most of the residential lots are cleared and free of char. One source of Altadena's charm — its proximity to nature — also made it vulnerable to wildfire. Black and Latino families have lived in Altadena for generations and the suburb is also popular with younger artists and engineers working at the nearby NASA rocket lab who were attracted by the small-town vibe and spectacular mountain views. Now the town is dotted with signs of 'Altadena is not for sale', reflecting concerns that speculators and developers may turn what had been rows of neat bungalows into gaudy cash cows. Kilgore's RV is parked within a sea of razed lots and the occasional home that is still standing but vacant due to smoke damage. Many homeowners are crashing with friends and family, or renting during the rebuild, but others, like Kilgore, have chosen to live on their properties in RVs. Jose Luis Martinez, 71, a retired electrician born in El Salvador, had been in his home for 38 years when it burnt down. Uninsured like Kilgore, and living on Social Security, he has no long-term plan but decided to hold onto the property and camp in an RV. Others received insurance payments. Retired pastor Edwin Isaacs, 64, paid off his mortgage and is happy to live on his property condition-free in an RV, while Marialyce Pedersen has parked a trailer on her property while she rebuilds. 'I was 61 years old and ready to retire and enjoy my pool and my life. I love that my land is still here,' she said. 'Here it feels familiar, like the right place for my body to be.' Kilgore, who once played with former Van Halen frontman David Lee Roth, says he lost some of his best guitars in the fire, including a 1953 Fender Telecaster and a 1904 Parlor, along with an estimated $120,000 in equipment from his home studio. He said he saved five guitars that he grabbed on his way out the door to evacuate. He once lived in a comfortable home with a high ceiling and tree-filled yard. Now he sweats inside a Bounder RV and washes and shaves with cold hose water in an outdoor basin. His main goal, he said, is to re-record all his original music that was lost in the fire. 'That's probably what's left for me to do,' Kilgore said. 'I could die after that, for all I care. I've seen enough of this monkey show, I'm telling you.'
Straits Times
03-07-2025
- General
- Straits Times
Six months after LA wildfires, some adjust to new life in RVs
ALTADENA, California - Terry Kilgore lives alone in his Altadena neighborhood in California, sleeping in a recreational vehicle and surrounded by empty lots that were once the site of family homes. In January, those homes were burned to the ground. Six months after the wildfires that devastated the eastern and western flanks of Los Angeles, Kilgore's RV solution is one way victims are coping as the arduous rebuilding effort goes on. "You would never know it but it was pretty here. It's never going to be pretty like it was," said Kilgore, 70, a rock 'n' roll guitarist and lifelong Altadena resident. "The place I grew up in is gone forever. It's a memory." The fires broke out on January 7, when dry desert winds whipped over mountain passes with hurricane force, following eight months without rain. The Eaton Fire, in Los Angeles County just east of the city, devastated the community of Altadena, while the Palisades Fire leveled much of the coastal Pacific Palisades district. The fires killed 22 people, destroyed nearly 12,000 homes and caused as much as $53.8 billion in property damage, according to a report by the Los Angeles County Economic Development Corporation. While many homeowners complain about delays, L.A. city and county officials say rebuilding progress has exceeded initial expectations. About 75% of the 4,398 residential lots destroyed or severely damaged in the city of Los Angeles have been cleared of debris and are certified for rebuilding, according to a spokesperson for Mayor Karen Bass. In Altadena, in the foothills of the San Gabriel Mountains, there are still a few burnt-out and boarded-up businesses. Some are strewn with rubble. But most of the residential lots are cleared and free of char. One source of Altadena's charm - its proximity to nature - also made it vulnerable to wildfire. Black and Latino families have lived in Altadena for generations and the suburb is also popular with younger artists and engineers working at the nearby NASA rocket lab who were attracted by the small-town vibe and spectacular mountain views. Now the town is dotted with signs of "Altadena is not for sale," reflecting concerns that speculators and developers may turn what had been rows of neat bungalows into gaudy cash cows. Kilgore's RV is parked within a sea of razed lots and the occasional home that is still standing but vacant due to smoke damage. Many homeowners are crashing with friends and family, or renting during the rebuild, but others, like Kilgore, have chosen to live on their properties in RVs. Jose Luis Martinez, 71, a retired electrician born in El Salvador, had been in his home 38 years when it burned down. Uninsured like Kilgore, and living on Social Security, he has no long-term plan but decided to hold onto the property and camp in an RV. Others received insurance payments. Retired pastor Edwin Isaacs, 64, paid off his mortgage and is happy to live on his property condition-free in an RV, while Marialyce Pedersen has parked a trailer on her property while she rebuilds. "I was 61 years old and ready to retire and enjoy my pool and my life. I love that my land is still here," she said. "Here it feels familiar, like the right place for my body to be." Kilgore, who once played with former Van Halen frontman David Lee Roth, says he lost some of his best guitars in the fire, including a 1953 Fender Telecaster and a 1904 Parlor, along with an estimated $120,000 in equipment from his home studio. He said he saved five guitars that he grabbed on his way out the door to evacuate. He once lived in a comfortable home with a high ceiling and tree-filled yard. Now he sweats inside a Bounder RV and washes and shaves with cold hose water in an outdoor basin. His main goal, he said, is to re-record all his original music that was lost in the fire. "That's probably what's left for me to do," Kilgore said. "I could die after that, for all I care. I've seen enough of this monkey show, I'm telling you." REUTERS
Newsweek
11-06-2025
- Climate
- Newsweek
Inside the Life of a Woman Hotshot Battling Blazes in the American West
Newsweek AI is in beta. Translations may contain inaccuracies—please refer to the original content. Based on facts, either observed and verified firsthand by the reporter, or reported and verified from knowledgeable sources. With wildfires getting more severe and unpredictable, the work of firefighters is increasingly significant—and dangerous. January's Los Angeles County fires caused up to $53.8 billion in property losses and billions more in economic and tax hits to the economy, according to a February report from the Southern California Leadership Council and the Los Angeles County Economic Development Corporation. Often referred to as the "special forces" of wildland firefighting, hotshot crews tackle the most difficult and remote wildfires. Most people who come to a hotshot crew have a few fire seasons under their belt; but when Kelly Ramsey joined her hotshot crew, she was the only rookie to both the crew and to fire—and the sole woman, as well as the first in nearly a decade. To many of the men, she was the only woman they'd ever worked with. In this exclusive excerpt from her book, Wildfire Days: A Woman, A Hotshot Crew, and the Burning American West (Scribner), Ramsey talks about fighting the 2020 North Complex Fire in California. BACKBURN. Intentionally burning the forest in advance of an oncoming wildfire, as Ramsey is doing with a drip torch near Quincy, CA, can help create a barrier of burned vegetation to stop a wildfire's progress. BACKBURN. Intentionally burning the forest in advance of an oncoming wildfire, as Ramsey is doing with a drip torch near Quincy, CA, can help create a barrier of burned vegetation to stop a wildfire's progress. Parker Kleive The day after Labor Day, we woke to the wind. It threw dirt on our tarps and whipped hair into my mouth as I zipped my bag. The morning was sunny, which should have been a warning. Sun means the inversion has lifted—a temperature inversion happens when warm air "caps" cooler air, trapping smoke in the valley overnight, dampening fire activity. Once the temperature rises, the fire awakens. We stood in a circle to brief. "The East Wind Event they've been talking about arrives today," Van said. He had gone to morning briefing with all the other superintendents, where they'd learned about the weather situation. "As you can see, it's already here." Red flag warnings stretched from California to Washington State. The wind was historic, a once-in-a-hundred-year phenomenon. Incident management teams along the West Coast were on edge. They would have increased staffing, but there was nobody to add; everyone was already committed, and short-staffed at that. "You really need to be heads-up today," Van said. "Lotta trees could come down," Salmon added. We broke the circle, trudging through deep dirt. I could feel the wind inside my yellow, and I shuddered. "Come on, load up," Fisher called, and fired the engine. I collected my hairbrush and stuck a boot on the bumper and pulled myself up, and the back door of the buggy clanged shut, a lid closing. "All in!" Trevan yelled, and we were wheels rolling toward the black. We hiked in on the same dirt-powder line. Cloud of dust, choke, cough. We reached the black and spread out along the line. Everything here was holding, and we were set up with a hose lay and engines pumping water from either end. We moved as a group, finding hot spots and digging as the wind picked up. 'Head on a Swivel' The wind howled and roared, bending the trees. Big old conifers creaked and popped. Some were burned out at the bottom, some were cat-faced (with a burned hole or hollow, like a cave), some crispy carbon sticks all the way up. It didn't feel safe. Boom! A massive tree fell, somewhere out of sight. The big ones sounded like bombs. The ground shuddered, meaning it hadn't landed far away. Boom! Another tree. Everyone's head was on a swivel. "Head on a swivel" was a shorthand phrase of Van's, but that's also what it looked like: a tree fell, and our heads snapped around, our expressions asking where and how close. Boom! "That was too close. Too f****** close." Luke looked unnerved. A crew got on the radio and said they were pulling out. Too many snags comin' down, the crew boss said. "The wind's too high, and we don't feel safe to continue." They said they were hiking out. Division said he copied. "You think we'll leave too?" I asked. "Oh, hell no." "No way. Hotshots gotta be the last ones to leave." "Don't worry, Rowdy River'll do it!" "Perfect time to get after it." "Find the boys an outlet. We're gettin' plugged in." Bitter sarcasm was our only resort. The eerie wind stirred the stump holes and swirled embers into the air. Where we were, the wind threatened to coerce a dead fire back to life. But elsewhere, where we couldn't see, the risk was much worse. Salmon, who was posted on the ridge as lookout, came on the radio. "Hey, uh, this thing is making a decent run. It's starting to put up a pretty good column." Van confirmed that he was seeing the same thing from wherever he was hiding out. We kept digging. Then Air Attack came on the radio. "This is making a big push," Air Attack said. "The fire has jumped the Feather River drainage and is making a big run to the south. It's moving fast. I'm seeing—I'm seeing a campground and some structures here, in front of the fire, and you need to send people out there to evacuate anyone in this thing's path. Tell everyone to get out of the way. It's—it's not stopping." My skin prickled. We couldn't see any of it—the column, the fire pushed by these winds, jumping the river and racing toward a campground—but even I had been doing this long enough that I could picture the flames, and the urgency in Air Attack's voice made my blood run cold. Author Kelly Ramsey portrait Author Kelly Ramsey portrait Lindsey Shea/Courtesy of Scribner 'Intergalactic Columns' He came on again to say that this wasn't the only fire seeing explosive growth. "I've flown everything from here to Redding," he said. "And I hate to tell ya, but it's just columns everywhere. All of California is columns, far as you can see. Intergalactic columns." "Intergalactic?" "Did he really say that?" We'd never forget it—it was a joke for the ages. We'd later get to a fire that was putting up a column and someone would intone, Intergalactic, with a wink, and people would laugh, and I would feel a chill. Because that is how a single column looks, like a rope from earth to space, and to imagine them spread over the breadth of this nation-sized state was to apocalypse. Alien invasion. Armageddon. With one word, Air Attack had conjured a vision of the end times. And he wasn't wrong. We kept working our way down the line, mopping up. Opening my pack to grab a snack, I saw I'd missed a call from Jossie, the friend in Happy Camp who was watching our animals. I called back. "Everything OK?" "I'm at your house," she said in a rushed voice. "I have the dogs. Is there anything you want me to grab?" Huh? I was so confused, the best response I could summon was, "What?" "There's a fire in Happy Camp. I thought you knew." "What? No, I didn't know." Ice. As if someone had poured a bucket of it over my head. Cold water flowing over my body and entering my veins. "Yeah, it's right outside town, they're evacuating everyone. I have to leave, and I've got my dogs. Do you want me to take yours?" "Yes," I said. "Please." "I tried to get the cat, but he ran away." "That's OK. Cats are smart. Tommy will hide." My voice caught in my throat. Poor Tommy, the scrappy stray I'd bribed into our home. "What about Sam?" F****** Sam. There was no loading a large goat into Jossie's small SUV. "Um. Why don't you let him free in the yard, so he can escape? I guess." Poor old Sam. "OK, I'll do that. Is there anything else you want from the house? Any important papers or anything?" My throat was closing. The trees around us, columns of carbon, creaked in the howling wind. "No, just the dogs." It was almost a whisper. "Please take the dogs." June 7, 2021 on the Telegraph Fire outside Globe, AZ. June 7, 2021 on the Telegraph Fire outside Globe, AZ. Parker Kleive Smothering Smoke The sky had gone orange. The atmosphere hung low, bloody and dark, as if someone had steeped the sky in an amber tea, the smoke like cloudy billows of just-poured cream. We were all taking videos, because it was insane that morning could look like the middle of the night. We'd left the North Complex, headed home. Miles upon miles spooled out under the buggies' tires, wildfires in every direction. Everywhere we turned, roads were closed. We had to reroute because I-5 was shut down: a fire near Ashland, where my friends lived. Cold prickled my neck. We took a back road, a two-lane highway between orchards, their gnarled limbs menacing under the heavy sky. Happy Camp wasn't the only tragedy in California. A headline about the North Complex read: "Tiny California Town Leveled By 'Massive Wall of Fire'; 10 Dead, 16 Missing, Trapped Fire Crew Barely Escapes Blaze." The North had grown explosively, barreling southwest and consuming the town of Berry Creek, leaving only three houses out of 1,200 standing. Meanwhile, in the western Sierra Nevada, almost 400 campers were trapped when the Creek Fire blew up; the Army National Guard rescued them in Black Hawk helicopters. By October, Governor Gavin Newsom would request a federal disaster declaration for six major wildfires in the state. The windstorm had also fueled five simultaneous megafires in Oregon, damaging 4,000 homes, schools and stores, killing several people, placing 10 percent of Oregon residents under an evacuation order and incinerating more of the Oregon Cascades than had burned in the previous 36 years combined. The Almeda fire leveled, among many other structures, my friend's mother's Polish restaurant in Talent. In Washington, the towns of Malden and Pine City were mostly destroyed. The Cold Springs Canyon fire grew from 10,000 to 175,000 acres overnight, an insane rate of spread. The Pearl Hill fire jumped an almost unheard-of 900 feet to cross the Columbia River. Smoke blanketed British Columbia and the Western U.S. and, funneling into the atmosphere, drifted and spread to cover the continent. Air quality advisories were issued as far east as New York. College students hid in their dorms in Berkeley; older people sheltered from the dangerous particulates outside. We were a nation huddled, terrified. The smothering smoke implicated each one of us for our part in making a hotter world, enabling such a catastrophe. This was a disaster. There was no other word. The Slater fire had blitzed north through Happy Camp and crossed over Grayback. It had jumped Indian Creek east to west, then the wind had shifted and it had jumped back again. The fire had gone everywhere at once and made a 100,000-acre run up Indian Creek and over the ridge into Oregon. That ridge, where an undivided stand of Brewer spruce grew. Had grown? The canyon where so many been. Wildfire Days book cover Wildfire Days book cover Courtesy of Scribner ▸ Adapted from Wildfire Days by Kelly Ramsey. Copyright © 2025 by Kelly Ramsey. Reprinted by permission of Scribner, an imprint of Simon & Schuster, LLC.
Yahoo
07-05-2025
- Business
- Yahoo
Businesses struggle to navigate as Trump's tariff fallout hits West Coast ports
LOS ANGELES — California businesses are operating in the dark as they brace for the economic fallout from President Donald Trump's trade war — and the layoffs are already beginning. American manufacturers and retailers are anticipating a sharp dropoff in imports from China this week as they struggle to pay a 145 percent tariff on goods from the country. Already, dozens of ships have canceled planned arrivals at West Coast ports, putting dockworkers, truckers and more jobs across the supply chain at risk. But Stephen Cheung, CEO of the Los Angeles County Economic Development Corporation, said Tuesday that nobody is safe from the global economic upheaval. That includes his own nonprofit, tasked with assisting businesses in the region, as the government support and donations it relies on dry up. 'I actually had to lay off three people last week because the budget just got cut,' he said in an interview. 'This is a litmus test; what happens here in LA first will actually impact the rest of the nation.' The climate world — especially in the transportation and energy storage sectors that rely on lithium batteries — is particularly vulnerable to the pain . While electric vehicles have fewer parts than their combustion engine counterparts, around a third of their cost is their batteries, a market dominated by Chinese manufacturing. Cheung said the confusion caused by Trump's volatile trade policy is being compounded by the White House's information void. He said while LAEDC had a direct relationship with the United States Trade Representative under previous administrations, the group isn't in contact with Trump's top trade advisors. Instead, the nonprofit has turned to larger organizations like the International Economic Development Council, which has more than 4,500 members globally, to get its message across. 'We need to come up with new ways of actually partnering with national organizations that have connections with the White House, to be able to convey that message,' Cheung said. Whether that message will actually be listened to is a different story. Cheung said no information about the administration's plan has trickled back to him, and he's learned about policy changes through the news and social media. Gene Seroka, executive director of the Port of Los Angeles, said in an interview last month that he'd heard very little from the administration. He offered an update Tuesday to the Los Angeles Board of Harbor Commissioners that offered no new information on Trump's thinking. Seroka said he anticipates a 35 percent decline in container deliveries this week, compared with the same point last year. 'Prices of products made in China now are two and a half times more than they were just last month, and importers just simply cannot justify those costs,' Seroka said. The Trump administration seems to have, at least so far, settled on a message: Be patient . Senior Trump aides on the White House's National Economic Council and in the Treasury Department are closely monitoring the disruption, according to one White House official granted anonymity to discuss internal strategy. But they've felt little need to do any major outreach so far. Meanwhile, the uncertainty is fueling friction between California and national trade groups, as in-state interests try to secure their priorities. The California Building Industry Association is working with British Columbia officials to try to secure lumber supplies for rebuilding after the Los Angeles fires, while the U.S. Lumber Coalition is hoping for new tariffs on Canadian exports. 'Nothing gets rebuilt overnight, and even if it did get rebuilt overnight, the U.S. industry can easily supply all of the lumber needs to rebuild any of those affected areas," said U.S. Lumber Coalition executive director Zoltan van Heyningen, who argues that Canadian producers are hurting the U.S. lumber industry by 'dumping' their excess capacity in U.S. markets. Dan Dunmoyer, president of the CBIA, is pushing back on van Heyningen's claim that the domestic industry can deliver enough lumber in time to rebuild the Pacific Palisades and Altadena. 'The U.S. lumber industry hasn't proven itself able to pivot quickly to fill any gaps without raising prices,' said Dunmoyer, who says the industry currently sources about 30 percent of its lumber from Canada and that tariff uncertainty has slowed construction and led to price fluctuations . 'There's nothing in anyone's insurance policy in America that says, 'Hey, if the cost of lumber goes up because of tariffs, even in the short term, don't worry, we have additional coverage.'' Another ag product that isn't totally disinterested in some sort of market correction is California-grown wine. Vineyards have struggled to stay in business amid years of declining consumption — and competition from European wine subsidized by the E.U. 'There could be a real opportunity for us to essentially level the playing field,' said Natalie Collins, president and CEO of the California Wine Growers. But the tariffs so far haven't helped much because they've prompted retaliatory moves from California wine's top export market, Canada. 'I think in the short term, this uncertainty and the pulling the wine off of shelves in Canada has probably done more harm to California wine,' said Stuart Spencer, the executive director of the Lodi Wine Grape Commission. 'Long term, there's some serious damage that's been done for American products that's going to take time to rebuild.' Like this content? Consider signing up for POLITICO's California Climate newsletter.
