Hovering in a helicopter off the Southern California coastline, I was overcome by disorientation as I glanced over my shoulder. What I saw was staggering: Pacific Palisades, its once-luxurious homes and vibrant neighborhoods reduced to ash by the relentless wildfires consuming Los Angeles County. Photographs and videos couldn’t prepare me for this harrowing view, just 300 yards from the coastline, where waves gently lapped at the shore—a surreal contrast to the destruction just steps away.
This moment was one stop on a 67-minute flight surveying the wildfire damage. With me was Rob Schumacher, a Gannett photographer, who had requested the helicopter’s back door be removed for an unobstructed view of the devastation below. Our mission was to document the scale of the tragedy and provide some perspective on the aftermath of a disaster that has destroyed more than 10,000 structures. From above, the scenes of devastation were both overwhelming and heartbreaking.
Our journey began in Burbank, where our 28-year-old pilot, Oleg Byelogurov, briefed us on safety, handed out life jackets, and pointed out the fire extinguisher at our feet. Equipped with headsets to communicate over the roar of the blades, we lifted off. Our first destination was the Hollywood sign, which showed no signs of fire damage despite fake images circulating on social media. Beyond that, in the Hollywood Hills, the charred remnants of land were visible, though the damage was far less severe than what awaited us farther west.
As we headed toward the Pacific, the clear skies turned hazy with smoke, and the extent of destruction became impossible to ignore. In Pacific Palisades, Schumacher described the scene as if a “blow torch” had incinerated the neighborhoods. An attorney I’d spoken with called it a war zone earlier in the week, and I realized his words were no exaggeration. North of Palisades, in Malibu, countless beachfront homes were reduced to rubble. The randomness was unsettling: some structures obliterated, others untouched, with boats peacefully gliding along the water as if the inferno hadn’t unfolded nearby. The Pacific Coast Highway, usually bustling, was eerily empty except for fire trucks and emergency vehicles.
We attempted to fly north to Topanga Canyon, where the most active fires burned, but Temporary Flight Restrictions (TFR) kept us from getting close. Oleg explained the necessity of these restrictions, emphasizing safety in an already precarious situation. Meanwhile, my phone buzzed with emergency alerts about new evacuation warnings, a stark reminder of how quickly conditions could worsen.
When we finally landed, I felt dizzy stepping back onto solid ground. An employee informed us of a new TFR that would ban commercial helicopters from the coastline for two weeks, ensuring no one else could see the devastation as we had. The thought lingered as I left the airport: What will these landscapes look like in a year? In two? And will these scars ever truly fade?