There is a rhythm, even a routine, to the disastrous wildfires that unfold in northern California year after year.
High temperatures, strong winds and low humidity – and then an ignition in a dry landscape, a plume of smoke and an unsettling orange sky.
The stories, too, are familiar but no less horrifying: fast-moving flames, harrowing, often hours-long evacuations, a desperate search for safety, a stream of panicked phone calls and, at some point, a photo or a message from a neighbor revealing a home, and so many memories inside it, lost.
It’s a pattern that’s playing out yet again in Butte county, a wildfire prone-region in the state’s far north, after an arsonist sparked what became the Park fire. The blaze ignited in a park in the city of Chico and exploded, burning through the rugged canyons and tinder dry grasslands of the Lassen Foothills to the rural mountain towns of Cohasset and Forest Ranch. In just a few days, it became the fourth-largest fire in state history.
In Chico, the community responded the same way it did in 2018, 2020 and 2021 – by hosting thousands of firefighters battling the blaze and welcoming in the displaced while weary county residents wonder just how much disaster the area can bear.
“It is maddening we are here again, and it is particularly maddening this fire was caused by an individual,” Kory Honea, the county sheriff, said last week.
‘You never expect it again’
The smell of smoke hung thick in the air in Forest Ranch this week as families inspected the ashen remnants of their homes.
Days after the wildfire tore through the area, firehoses still littered the streets and bright pink flame retardant dusted the roadway and trees. In one devastated neighborhood, a scorched swing sat overlooking the charred and still smoldering hillsides.
Fire is not an aberration in Butte county. It’s an important part of the ecosystem, and the landscape was long maintained by indigenous fire, said Don Hankins, a pyrogeographer and Plains Miwok fire expert at California State University, Chico.
This region is particularly conducive to flames thanks in part to its steep canyons and seasonal winds. But decades of misguided fire suppression policies, forest management practices and a landscape that has grown hotter and drier amid the climate crisis have led to increasingly devastating blazes, and the expectation of more to come.
“It’s a disaster. It’s a disaster that everybody knew in some fashion or other at some point or other was going to happen,” said Addison Winslow, who sits on Chico’s city council.
It has happened again and again in Butte county and surrounding areas. There was the Camp fire that killed 85 people and leveled the town of Paradise; the 2020 North Complex fire that left 16 people dead; and the 2021 Dixie fire, which burned nearly 1m acres and destroyed the Gold Rush town of Greenville.
“Sadly we’re in a region that has experienced this far too many times in short succession,” said Hankins. “We’ve got a little bit of expertise but it’s a huge burden.”
The conditions in late July were exactly right for a destructive fire, he said, with hot, dry conditions and an accumulation of fuels.
“A lot of those areas started to dry out early in the season. It’s just a recipe for once you have an ignition, a human caused-ignition, things aligned to create this situation,” said Hankins, who himself was evacuated from his home in Forest Ranch for days after the blaze broke out.
The Park fire sent thousands of people fleeing, including Kristy and Michael Daneau, who had at long last settled into their home in Cohasset, which they bought shortly after the 2018 Camp fire destroyed their house in nearby Paradise. “You never expect it to happen again,” she said.
The day of the 2018 fire was the worst of their lives, the couple said. They were unable to reach their children. Kristy was stuck for hours and surrounded by flames – at one point Michael thought he’d have to tell their four daughters that they had lost their mother. They survived and rebuilt their lives, purchasing a home in Cohasset, the only area they could afford, only to find themselves fleeing another raging wildfire.
The flames from the Park fire moved rapidly, more quickly than firefighters could respond, and the couple, their daughter and five dogs spent seven hours trying to evacuate with little guidance from officials before eventually escaping through a winding logging road down to Chico.
They learned from a neighbor that they lost their home in Cohasset, forcing them to start over yet again – this time without the aid of insurance to help them rebuild. Like many people in fire-prone areas of California, they could no longer afford the exorbitant costs.
Nothing, not even the last fire, could prepare them for the shock of losing another home. “You’re not prepared for that second time around,” Michael said. “What are the odds? It’s surreal.”
This time they lost the room they had begun setting up for their first grandson, who was born the same day they learned they lost their home. “He’ll never get the opportunity to come up there to play, pick blackberries, feed the deer,” Michael said.
A city rallies once more
The Daneaus headed to Chico, which by now is well-acquainted with wildfires and their devastating aftermath. In recent days the city has reprised its role as refuge for people escaping disaster.
All around town, people hang signs thanking firefighters in the windows of their homes and businesses. A local yoga studio has offered complimentary classes to first-responders and evacuees, while the ice cream shop around the corner started a fund for free scoops.
The shelter for evacuees has been relatively empty, said Winslow, the city councillor, likely because so many have found housing with people they know.
“I was really trying to avoid saying it’s not our first rodeo because it’s not a rodeo. But if it were, it would not be our first one,” said Winslow.
“There is in these moments a customary outpouring of hospitality that Chico has built up – resiliency over the periods of destruction and evacuations that we’ve seen.”
But the city has struggled to grapple with the long-term effects of devastation. The county has long had a housing shortage. Now, the loss of so many homes in repeated fires is further chipping away at the area’s affordability. In order to serve as an effective refuge, Chico should have a surplus capacity of hotels, short term rentals, and housing and shelter available for people, Winslow argued.
Meanwhile, fire experts such as Hankins hope that the region will invest in significantly increasing the amount of prescribed fire, which is needed to reduce the accumulation of fuels that leads to more destructive blazes.
“It’s been a really stressful time and also a frustrating time. We’ve been working in our community in the foothills to try to address this. There’s a lot of discussion, planning but not enough action taking place,” he said.
“Each one of these fires provides a lesson. Ultimately the lesson is we need to be stewarding our land. There is no choice of not having fire in this landscape.”
Displaced for more than a week, with uncertain months ahead of them, the Daneaus are taking comfort in the the outpouring of support and heroism they have seen. Michael recently heard from someone he purchased a guitar from, who saw that the couple had lost their home, and offered a refund. Neighbors who stayed behind in Cohasset helped save homes and animals.
“We’re not alone in this,” Michael said, reflecting on the last week and the last six years. But, he added: “There’s so many people going through this for the first time.”
