Don’t tell these people that the unique town of Altadena is gone.
That’s because more than nine months after the devastating Eaton fire wiped out their homes, their neighborhoods, their landmarks, they’ve come back to their dirt-filled lots to live in an RV, camper or trailer, starting a new kind of community that’s temporary, but soul satisfying.
“It is home, but it’s not really home,” explained Marc Archuleta, a retired LAPD cop who for the last four months has lived in his 23-foot trailer parked on his burned-out lot on McNally Avenue with his wife, Gloria.
The accommodations are small, not even close to the dimensions of the home they lost with front and backyards that Archuleta enjoyed puttering around in before the fire of Jan. 7-Jan. 8 took that away. But living back in Altadena in their trailer means there’s something more to life than square footage and a lawn.
“It’s a good, community feeling,” he said. “I go to look at those who are rebuilding and we talk about mine. They are very friendly and it’s nice,” he said. “It is very communal up here.”
More people are moving onto their lots with RVs, said Capt. Ethan Marquez of the Altadena Sheriff’s Station. “You will occasionally see them coming back to their property with RVs or some have big trailers,” he said. Exact numbers of RV/trailer permits taken out since the fires was not provided by the county’s Department of Public Works.
For the Archuletas, at first it was an economic decision. They calculate that even after buying the trailer for $17,000, they’re saving up to $3,000 a month on a temporary rental. If they have to wait a year to complete the rebuild, temporary living would’ve cost them $36,000, more than twice as much.
Marc and Gloria got the idea from their daughter, Teresa Archuleta, who also lost her home in the Eaton fire. She bought an RV, lived in an RV park in Santa Clarita for a while, before she sold her lot in Altadena, paid off her home loan and moved to Spokane, Wash.
“It’s the most cost-effective way to save your money for the rebuild. My neighbors are paying $3,000 to $4,000 a month to rent and they are frustrated,” said Marc. The Archuletas expect to stay in the trailer another eight months to a year, or as long as it takes to rebuild a home on the lot.
About 200 rebuilds are underway in the Eaton fire burn zones, according to L.A. County Supervisor Kathryn Barger. Many face hurdles from a slow-moving permit process, insurance company issues and financing.
Brooke Lohman and her husband, Michael Janz, were living with Brooke’s mom in Corona for free after the duplex they were renting in Altadena burned to the ground. But being an hour’s drive away from Altadena was taxing. Even a short stint in an apartment on Del Mar Boulevard in Pasadena was noisy, unnerving and unsettling.
“It wasn’t Altadena,” said Janz. “We were feeling depressed.”
So they bought a cleared parcel located among a band of other pioneering RVers near the Fair Oaks Burger restaurant and found community there. They purchased a vintage Dutchess trailer for $15,000 and live in it, with a generator producing lights and hot water for showers and a tank sewage system that needs emptying regularly.
They are in the process of moving an old house from Lincoln Heights onto their property. That may take three months, he said.
“At night we all get together and hang out.” – Brooke Lohman
Leaving the four walls of an apartment or a modern house with full sewage, electricity and utilities for a trailer with limited amenities on a dirt lot was worth it. Only because it is in Altadena, said the couple.
“There’s just something special about being in Altadena,” said Lohman. “Being able to be there is a weird sense of normalcy, even though it is not normal.”
The couple love vintage stuff, so the silver and blue trailer with the aqua blue stove and fridge fit their lifestyle. They buy food out and heat it up, mostly tofu and vegetables and rice, since they’re both vegan. And when the 12-volt battery goes out, they find a neighbor — also living in an RV — to help them fix it.
Their neighbor Paul, who declined to say his last name nor give an interview, helped them move in the couple’s trailer a few months ago. He also built a fence for them. The other RVers in the hop-scotch neighborhood elected Paul the mayor, who installed surveillance cameras and is the neighborhood watch captain, said Janz.
“At night we all get together and hang out,” said Lohman. Paul and Michael like to toss back a few beers in the evenings. While they all await a more permanent situation, in the meantime, they help each other out by keeping watch on their land when someone is out, and staying in touch via group chats.
A woman who lived across the street and now rents an apartment in Pasadena, comes back every day to water her plants. She started crying when Lohman and Janz told them they bought the land and will be moving an old house to the spot. Janz said her tears of joy came from the fact that they were Altadenans, not some corporation building a house for anyone to buy.
“Being back in Altadena and experiencing the quietness, hearing the animals, is weirdly comforting, especially as a renter we are coming back to rebuild. It’s comforting. You are doing your part in a way,” said Lohman.
Added Janz: “We are all trauma-bonded. We’ve all been through the same thing, so we all understand. It is like we all have the same reason for being here: We all love Altadena and we are all dedicated to rebuilding.”
Having survived the fire, the loss of all their possessions and now facing the arduous rebuilding process provides them a common purpose, said Audrey Davidheiser, a Pasadena-based psychologist specializing in grief, recovery and mental healing. It’s not unlike recovering alcoholics at an AA meeting, or divorcees swapping stories about their ex’s.
“In the midst of your pain, when you find other people that went through that pain, it makes your burden feel lighter,” she said. Just meeting and talking with others in the same situation says they are not forgotten, she said. “If other people are there, the trauma is not as heavy because you can share it.”
The Garcias, a family of six, are living in a rented, 40-foot RV in West Altadena on Ventura Street. Pedro Garcia, the father, had to be coaxed out of his backyard while flames roared overhead, said Ginger, his daughter. He went to live in an Airbnb, while others in the family stayed with relatives in Sacramento.
When he could no longer afford the Airbnb, he rented the RV and parked it on his lot. Ginger, in her 20s, and her mom, Cindy Canez, spoke of their plight through a half-opened RV door on a sunny day on Oct. 10. Those three, plus three sons and a kitten, all live in the RV. With only three beds, they must double up at night.
“Right now it is snug and tight,” said Ginger Garcia. “Since the fire, we had nowhere else to go. The Airbnb was too much money so he ended up renting this RV out.”
The cramped quarters makes cooking a challenge, she said. The best part is the family being together.
Like many others, they take solace in meeting others who share a similar plight. “We know all the other RV people around here,” said Ginger Garcia. “We would go on walks and say ‘hi,’ and they’d say: ‘Oh, we live in an RV, too.’ “
They are struggling to find the cash to rebuild. A GoFundMe page has raised about $27,000 so far.
Cindy Canez said a September power outage triggered her memory of the black night of the fire lit only by red, swirling embers. Being in the dark, and hearing the wild animals howl, resurrected her fears like wind blowing on smoldering ashes.
“It feels like a fire could happen again,” she said. “It (the fire) really traumatized us. When we hear the coyotes at night that sounds scary.”
With common ground can come reliving the trauma, Davidheiser said. The fire survivors huddled on the site of one of the worst disasters in California history is like going back to the battleground. The emotions come flooding back.
“They are war victims, whose lives have been completely turned upside down,” she said. “They say ‘I need to be with people who get me.’ “
“Right now it is snug and tight. Since the fire, we had nowhere else to go. The Airbnb was too much money so he ended up renting this RV out.” — Ginger Garcia.
Some don’t choose to return to their land. They never left. They’ve stayed out of survival.
Andrew Becerra, 38, heroically used a garden house to douse several homes in the Fair Oaks Burger area the night and morning of the fire. Several are still standing today. His father’s home, where he lived on Calaveras Street, was destroyed.
For months he had nowhere to live, until his nephew bought him a pop-up camper trailer for $700 placed on the land his father, David Becerra, owned for about 60 years. The soft-spoken younger Becerra pointed at the bare-bones trailer and said: “With it, I have my own, private room.”
Now he can go inside and wash up.
The green and silver pop-up has no toilet; he uses the porta-potty on the street. He gets his water from a spigot in the back yard. He’s learned how to filter it and refrigerate it after reading survival books, he said. The camper has a stove, sink and small fridge, powered by a small generator, he said. He uses solar lights that he charges from a portable solar charger that he places on a tree stump.
He survives on SNAP, the federal Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program through CalFresh, where he uses his EBT card to buy groceries and food. “I buy mostly pre-made meals. I am living off that. I don’t keep anything rotting in here,” he said. “I try not to drink sodas or juices. Water is the most healthy thing to drink.”
Becerra’s father went to live with his 13 siblings in Tijuana, he said. Before the fire, he and his dad would take care of people’s horses in Altadena and Pasadena. He also no longer works as a pool guy, after his employer lost all his clients due to the Eaton fire.
He doesn’t own a car. He walks to a local market on Lake Avenue that accepts EBT, he said. “Where ever I go I walk on foot,” he said.
Friends and neighbors check up on him to make sure he’s OK. He recently adopted a rescue dog because he didn’t want him euthanized — a ruddy, Doberman Pinscher he named Sweetheart that followed him as he walked the premises.
Becerra calls his dad in Mexico using a free Lifeline phone, a wireless service provided by the federal government. Users call them Obama phones but the program started under the Reagan Administration. “He’s doing fine. He is always worried about me,” he said.
Even Becerra, who has suffered loss of his home, his jobs and his father leaving the country, feels connected to the people of Altadena, although his camper living hardly fits the mold of “glamping.”
For someone like Andrew, a triple loss can be swept under the rug for the sake of simple survival, Davidheiser said. That person’s most important asset is visits from his nephew, friends and neighbors, she said.
All RVers in Altadena must heal from trauma and that’s why they gravitate toward others in trailers and campers in the mostly empty streets of burn-scarred Altadena. It also marks them trying to take control of their living space, after such an unexpected loss ripped apart their lives, she said.
Janz, who works for a nonprofit and visits clients in Los Angeles, said being closer to L.A. shortens his commute. Also, the people living in trailers and RVs around them make it a community. “We really need to be here,” he said.