California wildfires have turned a slice of paradise into a hellscape

When I first arrived in Pacific Palisades yesterday it was not the smoke or the heat that startled me.

It was the noise. The deafening sound of hundreds of homes going up in flames - fanned by ferocious wind - was something I have never experienced.

It was the noise of vast quantities of wood burning, of structures collapsing, of vehicle fuel exploding, of the Santa Ana wind raging down the canyons.

It is here - sandwiched between the ocean and the San Gabriel Mountains - where some of America’s most fabled enclaves and gated communities lie.

It is difficult not to feel immensely sorry for the firefighters. They are doing their best to save some properties. But they are being overwhelmed by the forces of nature.

No sooner do they make progress than embers ignite the roof of another home. And so it goes on.

In front of our eyes last night, the fires hop-scotched across one neighbourhood, and then another.

We were with Andy Chan, a firefighter from Long Beach. He told us that the pressure in the hydrants was so low that at times they had no water.

But he kept on battling.

The town of Palisades - in one of the most beautiful locations imaginable, overlooking the waters of the Pacific - is now a smoking ruin.

The fire didn’t discriminate. It consumed huge mansions along Sunset Boulevard. It destroyed small businesses. It ravaged modest homes.

And perhaps most devastating of all, it took a community that seemed like a slice of paradise and turned it into a hellscape.

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