DAY 1
On January 7th, 2025 a fire broke out in the Santa Monica Mountains above the Pacific Palisades. The Santa Ana winds blew at hurricane speeds. The fire developed quickly and I followed its progress from my apartment in Marina del Rey.
On TV, I saw people evacuating and the fires burning homes. Outside my window, I heard sirens. I felt anxious sitting in the apartment and wanted to see what was happening for myself. I grabbed my camera, hopped on the Rivendell, and rode to the Palisades along the Strand.
I felt nauseous when I saw the smoke — and more nauseous when I saw the tourists enjoying their vacations while the Palisades burned.
As I approached Temescal, the sky darkened and sirens blared. LA fire established their base of operations in a beach parking lot.
I noticed a group of people huddled in a circle around a tall, handsome man with nice hair.
While the firefighters briefed Newsom, I rode further along to see the evacuation efforts.
The sun sunk lower and my head ached from the smoke, so I decided to ride home and follow the coverage on TV.
I watched the news, refreshed the feed on r/LosAngeles, created a Twitter account, and followed Watch Duty.
Again, I felt anxious and needed to get out of the apartment. The Santa Anas howled.
Initially, I attempted to ride to the Palisades. But the wind blew me off my bicycle and the visibility was too poor. It didn’t feel safe.
DAY 2
The Pacific Palisades holds special meaning to me. It is the closest entrance to the Santa Monica mountains on the west side. I spend 3-5 days/week riding through its neighborhoods.
On the morning of January 8th, I felt anxious sitting in the apartment watching the coverage. I wanted to see the Palisades for myself. So, I rode out.
The scene was eery and quiet.
I saw no emergency vehicles, no first responders, no residents. The air quality was terrible and my eyes started hurting from the smoke. I considered turning around. But I felt compelled to continue riding and see if Rustic Canyon and Will Rogers survived the fires.
Rustic Canyon made it, but when I exited the neighborhood onto Sunset I saw fires everywhere.
Like the lower Palisades, I saw no other people or vehicles. The winds were blowing fast and embers kicked up everywhere. I could hear wood cracking, groaning, and fire alarms blaring. I felt scared.
But, I came out to check on Will Rogers, so I kept riding. As I climbed into the park, I saw more fire and damage.
When I reached the top of the climb, I looked left and saw an entire neighborhood destroyed. I heard sprinklers, wind, and fire alarms.
I continued riding into the park itself.
I’ve been riding in Will Rogers weekly for the past few years, but I never visited the Ranch House. I always wanted to go on a tour, but I never made time for it.
Standing here, alone, looking at the remnants of this historic building . . . I felt the gravity of the loss of this fire.
I took some photos and rode home.
I’ve been hanging out in Malibu for about a decade. I lived in Malibu when I went to Pepperdine, I rode in the area when I taught high school history in Santa Monica, and now I’m back at the law school. I commute every day by bicycle along PCH.
Riding north to campus, I’d pass by the Reel Inn and they had this giant board where they would write a fish-related pun in chalk, and usually have a funny little drawing.
One day, I was riding to campus for class and I saw a guy writing the joke and I was like, oh I need to stop.
“Hey bro, where do you get these puns?”
“Oh, usually the staff will come up with ideas, but sometimes people call us with ideas. Yeah, so if you have any ideas, your joke could be up on this board.”
I always thought it’d be cool to have my own pun hanging up above PCH.
One of the many terrible things associated with these fire, is the fact that under modern code, you can’t build rickety wooden shacks propped up by stilts leaning off the side of a cliff. You can’t have 500 square foot rotten wood bungalows overlooking the ocean. You can’t have cute Spanish Mission Revival homes or Victorian palaces. No more single story Ranch houses and mid-century moderns.
Cholada was my favorite spot in Malibu. An authentic Thai restaurant serving beachside cuisine. It was in an old wooden shack painted light blue. When my best friend (also from Pepperdine) got engaged to his wife, we celebrated at Cholada. Whenever my college buddies and I would reunite after a long time apart, we’d go to Cholada.
I think a big reason why this whole thing is so painful to me is because of the loss of character. The Palisades won’t ever look the same, and you can’t live in Malibu like a dirtbag anymore.
Every commute, I’d pass by this red bungalow near PCH.
This red bungalow was home to a Malibu local legend named Randy “Craw” Miod.
From the Malibu Times:
“Among those lost in the Palisades Fire is Randy “Craw” Miod, a beloved Malibu figure known as the “Malibu man of mystery.” It has been confirmed that Miod and his iconic home, nicknamed “The Crab Shack,” were lost in the blaze. He was tragically found in his home, holding his kitten while attempting to evacuate.”
The places and people we lost are irreplaceable.
DAY 3
I rode out to the Palisades one more time. But I didn’t feel interested in sneaking past the checkpoints. So, I stayed along the bike path and PCH.
I saw people gawking at the destruction.
Seeing all these people with selfie sticks and cameras made me feel gross. I felt implicated.
I felt stupid for riding into the fire zone the previous day, and I felt stupid for riding out again.
Sure, I think it’s important to document this historical event. In 20 years, I’ll appreciate having photos and videos that I shot.
The Palisades are important to me and Will Rogers is my favorite park. I’m entitled to feel sad about the fires.
But this sadness doesn’t compare to the sadness of the people who lost their homes or loved ones.
Back in Malibu 
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