Elizabeth Barkley

Elizabeth Barkley and her daughter Brooke sift through the ashes of their house. Photograph: Gideon Mendel

I’m assistant chief on the highway patrol, so summer was a busy time for us first responders. I just couldn’t believe that my house would burn down. We got a few things out that were immediately accessible. Our photos were a priority, but it was mostly the clothes on our backs. By the time we came to evacuate my daughter from her boyfriend’s house, at 6.30pm or 7pm, the fire was totally different: tens of houses just going down as the tornado-like winds were picking up. I told them just to follow behind my lights and sirens, so I could get them to safety.

At 9.30 the next morning, my lieutenant called me. He said, “Chief, I don’t know how to tell you this, but your house is gone.” When I got up here, it was still on fire – some of the stuff was just collapsed and flames were burning throughout the property. I hugged my lieutenant. I started crying, he started crying – which you are never supposed to do on the highway patrol, right? But it was just for a moment – I realised I was just one of thousands of people who had lost their homes.

The fire started because an elderly couple were towing a trailer and the tyre blew. The wheel started sparking and caught the brush. I don’t know about climate change but the conditions here are heavily wooded. A little bit of breeze and not too much in the way of moisture to combat it: it was the perfect storm.

Jessica French

Jessica French’s husband Richard with their sons Chase, 10, and River, six, at their home in Redding, where only the pool is intact. Photograph: Gideon Mendel

When we were told to evacuate, we left fast and went to my grandmother’s house. At about 5pm, the news said it was an error and we could go back. We thought: “We’re going to try to get more stuff out, just in case.” While we were packing, the electricity went out. My husband said, “That’s not a good sign – we need to get out of here.” Outside, all our neighbours were in front of their houses looking at the sky – all around were red, glowing flames and the whole sky was just engulfed. We saw a plane drop retardant on the fire, which was blowing towards us. One minute you’re OK, and the next you’re fleeing for your life. My fear was that there is only one way out. It was bumper-to-bumper traffic and very scary. My kids were with me and my little one was screaming: “I don’t want to die!” We went to my grandma’s and within the hour they were evacuated, too. Everyone started packing her pictures and my grandfather’s military stuff – we threw it in our cars and got out of there. Later, on Facebook, someone posted a video of our neighbourhood: we saw that our house had gone.

Dawn and Patrick Fowler

Dawn and Patrick Fowler stand in the ruins of their home in Redding. Photograph: Gideon Mendel

Dawn: We came out here the next morning. They were lifting water out of the lake with helicopters. It honestly felt like a war zone – it was crazy. There’s a very popular mountain bike and hiking trail here called the West Side trail, and all the way to the top it’s just black ash now; there’s not one blade of grass. We know all of our neighbours who have lost their homes. Three of them work with my husband, who is a physician at the Mercy Medical Center.

Global warming didn’t start the fire but I’m sure it made it worse. Higher temperatures, less water to fight it

We’ve been here for 21 years and we have wildfires every summer.

Patrick: I’m 100% sure climate change has played a part in this. I mean, obviously global warming didn’t start the fire but I’m sure it made it worse. Higher temperatures, lower humidity, more fuel, less water to fight it.

Nancy Chamberlin

Nancy Chamberlin searches for belongings in her home in Shasta. Photograph: Gideon Mendel

At 5.30am on Thursday 26 July we got the reverse-911 call notifying us of the evacuation, so we just grabbed some clean clothes, my computer and our strong box which has a few important papers – not all of them, but a lot. We thought the emergency services were being overly cautious – we’d be back in a couple of days. About 10.30pm, my son called me – he’s a sergeant with the sheriff’s office. He was standing here watching it burn.

We never used to have horrendous fires like this – or the flooding over on the east coast. I hope the beauty of our property comes back because it really was a beautiful setting. We spent summer upon summer clearing the land, digging a big pond. We had a zip wire and a taking-off tower and a landing tower.

Marta and Marcia McKenzie

Marta McKenzie’s parents, Robert and Marcia, in Redding. Photograph: Gideon Mendel

Marta: My parents built this house in 1968. My father was a dentist and my mother was a college professor. They are 96 and 91 now. When the fire broke out, all three of us daughters were out of state. We heard neighbourhoods next to us were being evacuated, so we sent friends over to get them out. But they refused to leave until the firefighter’s wife up the street finally said, “You have to go.”

I was 10 years old when we moved in, so it has memories for me as well. Mum is sentimental about all the family heirlooms that got lost – she bursts into tears several times a day. My parents are staying with me and they move into a senior living facility tomorrow, so that’s the silver lining. Their mobility isn’t great, and it was a split-level house with a full basement; now they’re going to be in a place where there are more eyes and ears on them.

Houses reduced to ash by the fire that devastated Shasta county in northern California – about 36,000 inhabitants were evacuated. Photograph: Gideon Mendel

Marcia: We lived here exactly 50 years. We have three daughters and we made three bedrooms particularly for them, with a 100-gallon hot-water heater for many showers. I had a big grand piano, a huge store of sheet music that I played.

We entertained at least 60 people at times because it was just built for a party house. So I’m not going to do that any more.

Sue Asbill

Sue Asbill outside her home in Redding: ‘Every time I come back, it’s a little sadder.’ Photograph: Gideon Mendel

By noon, the fire was coming closer and closer. My son, Scott, who is 56, brought his stuff to my house, thinking it would be safer here than where he lives. I really didn’t expect to have to go. The smoke was so bad and so hot, and I was so tired, I lay down. My daughter-in-law woke me up about 5pm and said, “We’ve got to go now.”

We’ve always fought fires here and were able to contain them. But we don’t have the August gullywasher [rain] any more

I grabbed some clothes and ran out, thinking I would be back the next day. The guesthouse nearby burned first – then the gas line exploded. I saw a photograph with the fire going 90ft up. The gas line burned for two days. My poor neighbour spent 40 hours with the hose and the fireman; they saved their house and part of this house.

We’ve always fought fires here and we were able to contain them. But we don’t have the August gullywasher [rain] any more. I’m staying in a rental not far from here because I wanted to be close to my house. Every time I come back, it’s a little sadder. It was a beautiful home.

Dianna and Mike Dorn

Mike and Dianna Dorn, centre, with Dorothy, left, and daughter Helene, in Shasta. Photograph: Gideon Mendel

Dianna: The original house was built in 1979 and my husband and I got married in 1996, so we added on to it. My husband works for the post office and he’s a musician, too, so half the shop was a music studio. We lost a grand piano from the 1800s. It was pre-civil war – that piano had history going all the way back to Abraham Lincoln.

The first time we were allowed to come back, my daughter Helene and I were up on the edge of the foundations and she noticed something on the ground from a book of the Bible. It was from Psalms, and it was two verses. Everything around it was charred but those two verses. We thought that was very significant. It was a beautiful gift from God to leave that there for us.

Mike: We haven’t decided whether to rebuild. I’m only about two years from retirement and it takes a lot of effort to maintain 10 acres – maybe we should get a smaller lot. Your life can turn on a die. One day you go to bed thinking you’re going to wake up and go to work at the post office; the next morning you find yourself in the middle of a disaster and living on the other side of the county. So we’re all vulnerable.

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