Into the Inferno: A Photographer's Journey Into California's Megafires and Fallout by Stuart Palley

Author:Stuart Palley [Palley, Stuart]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781094163697
Google: ooeuzgEACAAJ
Amazon: 1094163694
Published: 2022-04-26T00:00:00+00:00

fountaingrove

On day two, I was on assignment for the Washington Post, with an early deadline (3:00 p.m.) for print. Meaning, I had to get up super early and chase photos before major fire activity increased so we could have a dateline for that day.

It was a haul to the western side of the fire from Fairfield. For two hours I drove through thick smoke up into Sonoma and the eastern side of Santa Rosa to Fountaingrove. What I saw was horrifying. Multiple neighborhoods leveled, virtually everything from brush to house was immolated for miles. I spent most of the day driving around the impact area getting a feel for where the fire front was, what had been destroyed, what was in danger, and values at risk. It was sort of an overview day and a scramble to make photos by deadline.

During the afternoon I drove into the Fountaingrove neighborhood, an area of upscale homes northeast of Santa Rosa, right into the path of the Tubbs Fire front. The first hours of the fire saw hundreds of homes destroyed here, with entire blocks leveled. The fire had spotted over golf courses, through trees, and across cul-de-sacs. Rows and rows of homes were mere rubble, swimming pools filled with debris, dead and burned animals in the street. It was hard to tell what was wild and what was a pet. I didn’t have the wherewithal to look closer. Before I went past the police checkpoints, an older man begged me to tell him if his house was safe. “Please, can you try and drive by?” he asked, after I said I wasn’t able to since I was on assignment. I saw the sadness and anxiety in his eyes and voice, and I couldn’t say no. I was headed into Fountaingrove anyway, so I told him I’d do my best. He gave me an address on the golf course.

I drove in past roving police patrols looking for looters, and engines looking for hotspots. I came around the bend to the block the house was on and audibly gasped. Every single home was leveled without any signs of life. A pit in my stomach, I stopped to make a few photos before I had the courage to pick up the phone and dial the man’s number.

He picked up and I asked if he was sitting down. After a sigh and a long pause I continued. “Sir, I’m sorry but your house is gone.”

“What about the neighbors?”

“I’m sorry, the entire block is destroyed.”

I felt horrible, and there was another long pause.

“Well do you see any cats? We had one in the house when the house sitter had to evacuate.”

There were no signs of life. “Maybe they were able to escape to the golf course.” I knew full well that the cats had probably been killed. My only hope was that they succumbed to smoke inhalation and didn’t suffer. This was the only thing keeping me from losing it on the phone.

Resigned, he said, “Okay, thank you.

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