What's climate change in the USA ?
Dear readers, followers, friends,
I decided to resume writing my blog, after almost a year of silence due to the release of Allfather, the handling, the organization, the crowdfunding, the book shipments, the contacts with sponsors as well as the preparation of the exhibition.
I wondered what to show you, apart from the constant superficial show of social networks. So I went back to this subject that moves me, and that I've only published a few times: my report on the aftermath of Woolsey and Camp Fire, in California in 2018.
The Camp Fire was an active wildfire from November 8-26, 2018 in Butte County, California. By destroying the town of Paradise in particular, it is the deadliest in the history of this American state, with 85 deaths, according to the official death toll on December 3, 20181. As of November 26, 2018, when U.S. firefighters announced that the fire was "100% contained," there were still 296 missing.
While I was in Europe, I saw the state of California in flames, I read that it was one of the largest fires in the history of this state. I took a plane ticket, and as I landed the fires had just been more or less brought under control. But the damage was immense. I was going to document this aftermath.
Woolsey fire
On the heights of Santa Monica, there is nothing left of the villages or houses that were on the hills.
On the heights, in Santa Monica I photograph what it remains after the passage of the flames of Woolsey fire.
The Woolsey Fire is a wildfire that occurred in Ventura and Los Angeles counties in California between November 8 and 21, 2018.
There is a pestilential smell of cold fire, and all the people I meet are still under the shock of the catastrophe
Nothing exists anymore, only the chimneys and the remains of the houses still stand. These are visions of apocalypse, here and there I hear people coughing, some objects being loaded into a car, or a discussion between neighbors who help each other.
The electrical companies were trying to repair what could be repaired or to find a cause for the fire. It should be noted that California is going through periods of intense drought, and that here the fire could have been started by an electrical burst on the network, because there are no buried electrical cables.
I went to the valley, here too whole hectares of forest have gone up in smoke, the area has been deserted. I walk with ashes going up to my knees, the gardens of the neighborhoods which were in bloom are now dry, burned I have the impression to be almost alone on another planet.
I went up a completely burned hill, came back down, chatted with locals with still haggard looks and marked by the disaster. Like a nervous beast, I was looking for a little space that could have been saved. I found nothing. Everything was gone.
Tire tracks on the road show the urgency, a race for survival as fires raged through the county.
A man asks me if I don't want to get out of there, I explain to him that I come from Belgium to document the situation as a photo reporter. He agrees to let me photograph him, but requires me to publish these photographs to show to the people outside the USA what is happening because of global warming.
I talk to very close-knit communities who organize themselves to collect clothes, food and bring it to all the families who had to be relocated.
The scorched landscapes filled with carcasses of cars witness of an ultra consumerist period follow one another. The sun is beating down hard, I photograph again and again until the end of the day.Then I go back to rest to prepare myself to cross almost the whole state of California, 800km of road to reach the city of Paradise, completely burned by Camp Fire. I was clearly not prepared to see this
CAMP FIRE
So I hit the road, passing through Bakersfield, Fresno, Stockton, and spent a night near Sacramento before reaching Paradise City.
As I got closer to the city, I saw countless of roadkills. Probably wildlife running away colliding with cars leaving the area as well. A tension was palpable, as masses of birds flew rapidly away, I could see the smoke columns rising in the distance.
Suddenly, a long silence. I thought I was riding in the fog, but it was a mixture of humidity from the recent rain and the still boiling ground, as well as all the suspended ashes. Several signs indicate that the road to Paradise is blocked. The scenery was awful as I approached the roadblock installed by the army.
Here the army checkpoint appears at the end of the yellow line. I did not photograph the scene for security reasons.
Two huge hummers and a troop transport are blocking the road. Armed American soldiers stopped me on the side of the road in front of a wooden sign on which it was written
"LOOTERS NO ENTRY, WE WILL SHOOT ON SIGHT".
They check my identity, my press card, allow me to enter but ask me to remain on the main road.
No more civilians are allowed to enter because they are still looking for corpses, and what is left of the houses is not yet secured. Only the journalists, the army and the rescue services are allowed to enter.
The entrance and main road of Paradise City.
Gas pumps, supermarkets, computer stores, garages, pharmacies, etc. if not burned, everything seems to be closed in emergency. In this pea soup, I only see the lights of the firemen and the workers who try to evacuate some debris.
I feel like I'm completely lost in the middle of a movie scene even though I understand the situation very well. My brain doesn't immediately understand the extent of the damage. But with every step I take, I feel like I'm at the gates of a netherworld.
I stubbornly record these scenes to testify, knowing full well that it is already too late. I have the impression to live a scene of the future, or out of I don't know which religion and of science fiction film, but I continue to trigger it is reality. We pollute, we dry up the soil, we don't take care of the nature, the result is that everything dries up, dies and takes us away in its death spurt. We are self-destructing.
I walk into a neighborhood, pass frightened deer running through town I take a snap shot, see a house that is still standing. I stop and meet an old man, maybe still in shock, a little crazy. He tells me he stayed there during the fire. I get an interview and a video of him telling me about the hell that was unleashed around his house.
A majestic tree in the back of his house like some other trees also held up. The man shows me around his house and garden. He explains to me that he is holding on with the food he receives from the rescue services. And then the police arrived, alerted by somebody that a man was taking pictures in the neighbourhood.
A picture of my second host committee who came to pick me up in numbers. After showing my press card, and a letter from my newspaper, the situation became cordial. They explain me that they are very vigilant because many thieves roam in the area to come to steal in the empty or burned houses. The tension is very palpable and the situation with the looters often worsens at the end of the day and during the night.
Some policemen also lived in the city, and saw their houses burned. They continue to work in the middle of the emergency, while staying with cousins or with their families in one of the hotels that opened its doors to the victims.
After these meetings, I continued to go deeper into different neighborhoods. I came across firemen and emergency services, who were searching the ashes of houses for potential corpses.
I want to photograph these men, as I feel the fires have been heavily documented and the situations very visual, but I had not seen any images of these men, equipped and protected from the ash and toxic products. I want to show that they do a hard and delicate job, terribly human and difficult.
A new police patrol comes to find me, and tells me not to hang around, at best to stay on the main road. I let them do their job, but I also want to do mine. I cross the road and ask for a portrait to one of the men who is looking for a corpse in the debris.
I continue my way, these men in white or yellow are in what remains of the gardens. They are all dressed in chemical protection suits. I risk another portrait, the man is kind, and brave we exchange a little before I leave to photograph a garden which gives sight on all the valley. Burned.
What's left of the elementary school in Paradise City
Burned wood stack up in front of a destroyed mall
The U.S. government considers that everything in the area is toxic and must be evacuated. This should take almost two years, not stopping the pace. I think that at the moment in 2021 Paradise is being partially rebuilt. I then left the city. Again the ground was black as an ashtray, scarred and desolate. I visited a sports center whose entrance was guarded by the army and managed by the Red Cross where disaster victims were packed on bunks. I could not photograph inside the center. I risked some pictures of the young army guards
I've told these short stories to my friends, but probably never like this.
This is a reportage, to be taken for what it is.
It has to be shown, so let it be.