Los Angeles is a topographical wonderland. Mountains loom in the distance. The hillsides and canyons are refuges for hikers and dog walkers. The beaches and cliffs along the coastline beckon. We integrate neighborhoods and streets (not to mention highways) into this wilderness, making it a hybrid of wilderness and city. We are the only megacity in the world where mountain lions roam the streets; only Mumbai and its leopards can compare. Here, mountain lions mostly hide during the day, but come out at night and are caught on video on doorbell cameras sneaking into backyards and jumping fences.

We piped and electrified the wilderness of Los Angeles. But we haven’t tamed it yet. How could we? Living here, we have not signed a contract with nature, but have reached an uneasy confrontation with it. We know an earthquake is going to happen—the ground is riddled with fault lines—but we modify and tell ourselves that this is a high-risk, low-probability event. This allows us to sleep peacefully at night, perhaps with a false sense of security with a roof above our heads.

We knew wildfires were going to happen, but we thought they would be contained relatively quickly and occur in areas of the foothills and brush that were poorly managed—places where homeowners didn’t clean up or send ravenous goats to chew .

We were wrong.

A confluence of extremely bad events - no significant rainfall since possible (The drizzle on your car windows on Christmas Eve doesn’t count.) And a relentless hurricane-like storm — what could have been a backyard fire in Pacific Palisades on Tuesday morning turned into a An unimaginable inferno burned the coastal areas. Community in just minutes. Then a fire broke out in Altadena, destroying the community. A day later, the Palisades Fire burned thousands of acres and had zero containment.

As of this weekend, six fires have broken out in Los Angeles County, destroying not only much of the Palisade and Altadena, but also Malibu, the San Fernando Valley near the Ventura County border, and the Hollywood Hills. area. People lost their homes, and we all lost Will Rogers' historic ranch home, part of Will Rogers State Historic Park in Palisades. The fire destroyed everything. Black smoke billowed toward the historic Mount Wilson Observatory to the east, and flames spread to the fabled Getty Villa, home to priceless antiquities. Both villas have survived so far, with the Getty Villa undoubtedly benefiting from brush clearing and fireproof construction.

The events of the past week have upended all our assumptions about a wild truce with Los Angeles. When we thought our infrastructure was enough to save us from this hell, we were wrong.

I have lived here for over 30 years and have never been hit by a fire. But like other Angelenos, I always knew it was coming. There have been so many fires while I've been here that I sometimes think Los Angeles will be destroyed by fire faster than the major earthquakes we should be preparing for.

I live next to a tall eucalyptus forest that is very flammable. The view out the window was a big reason why I chose to live here - my friends call it the "treehouse". Whenever the trees sway violently in the dry wind, I become extremely concerned and scan them for any signs of fire.

The wildfires that scorched the hillsides above where I lived never reached my neighborhood. But I heard police driving through these streets at 3 a.m., calling on people to evacuate.

On Thursday afternoon, as I was writing this, an emergency alert was issued for evacuation warnings in my area. Terrified, I started packing. How do you choose your most precious items to pack in several travel bags? Before I could put more stuff in, my phone rang again. The evacuation warning was a false alarm. I breathed a sigh of relief—but perhaps my panic was more appropriate, and relief was a return to the denial that allows us to navigate our daily lives in this dangerous place.

Angelenos are upset about a malfunctioning emergency alert system, but that's the least of the problems revealed by the fire. The overwhelming demand overwhelmed fire hydrants in the Palisade Mountains, especially as strong winds grounded planes in some places and left hydrants dry. City officials say a lack of water pressure is to blame. Should the city retrofit the hydrant system when it appears to be working fine when only a few buildings are on fire? Or was this just a once-in-a-lifetime fire that drained the city's water supply?

There are other problems. Mayor Karen Bass was criticized for being out of the country when Tuesday's fire broke out and for cutting the fire department's budget, though city administrators said the budget ended up being increased overall and did not affect firefighting capabilities.

Bass was apparently unable to stop the fire. (She is no Moses.) But what she must do now is make good on her promise to actively help people rebuild. “Red tape, bureaucracy — all of that has to go,” she said Friday. This helps us all. To make a living in this wilderness, we need all the help we can get.