With each passing mile, the smoke from the Dixie fire got thicker and thicker as I drove up Highway 89 in Plumas County. Visibility was decreasing at a steady pace to no more than 10 feet in front of me once I reached my destination of Greenville. If you have ever looked out of the window of a jetliner as it graces the clouds, that’s what it felt like, except this time I was the pilot — without any instrument training. My only thought was, if I drive slowly enough, I can hopefully react quickly enough to limit the damage if I hit something or someone.
I made it safely. Once I got out of the car, the smell of an overflowing ashtray filled my nose. This was one town I was sure of where nobody on this day was anti-mask.
The smoke that hung in the air made it impossible to immediately see how decimated the town was. As I walked in, seeing structure after structure burned to the ground, the terrible reality set in. And all those once-beautiful trees are completely scorched. The only thing — it seemed to me — that was still green in Greenville was the name itself.
Greenville residents Gould Fickardt, 71, left, and Woody Hovland, 70, sit with their dogs, Primer, right, and Sheva outside a friend’s home. Fickhardt owns the Way Station bar and apartments, which have burned. Hovland’s home was destroyed.
(Mel Melcon / Los Angeles Times)
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A U.S. flag is placed on a burned-out firetruck in front of the Greenville Fire Station on Highway 89.
(Mel Melcon / Los Angeles Times)
Horses graze in a field off North Valley Road.
(Mel Melcon/Los Angeles Times)
Street signs in Greenville melted from the extreme temperature.
(Mel Melcon / Los Angeles Times)
Smoke from the Dixie fire engulfs the town of Greenville.
(Mel Melcon / Los Angeles Times)
Jaime Crane, an inspector with Cal Fire’s Shasta Trinity Unit, walks through a burned neighborhood to document what materials the roofs of homes were made of.
(Mel Melcon / Los Angeles Times)
Burned trees rise above a truck destroyed by the Dixie fire.
(Mel Melcon / Los Angeles Times)
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Kelly Tan, 59, left, looks on as her sister, Tiffany Lozano, 44, photographs melted street signs on Main Street in Greenville. Tan is a resident of nearby Taylorsville and Lozano is a resident of nearby Quincy.
(Mel Melcon / Los Angeles Times)
Scorched trees are all that’s left standing in this section of Greenville.
(Mel Melcon / Los Angeles Times)
Clouds of smoke loom over the remains of homes and cars.
(Mel Melcon / Los Angeles Times)
Deer search for food on Main Street in Greenville.
(Mel Melcon / Los Angeles Times)
A door is one of the few things still upright at the Greenville Rancheria Medical & Dental Clinic on Main Street.
(Mel Melcon / Los Angeles Times)
The Greenville Library was destroyed in the Dixie fire.
(Mel Melcon / Los Angeles Times)
A water drop is made as the Dixie fire continues to burn near Greenville.
(Mel Melcon / Los Angeles Times)
A welcome bench is still standing after the Dixie fire on Greenville’s Main Street.
(Mel Melcon / Los Angeles Times)
Amanda Peri, an inspector with Cal Fire’s Shasta Trinity Unit, searches through debris to determine what roofing materials were used in Greenville.
(Mel Melcon / Los Angeles Times)
A number of signs, like these on Highway 89 in Greenville, were melted by the Dixie fire.
(Mel Melcon / Los Angeles Times)
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The front gate of a home on Main Street in Greenville survived the Dixie fire.
(Mel Melcon / Los Angeles Times)
Jaime Crane, an inspector with Cal Fire’s Shasta Trinity Unit, walks through the debris in Greenville.
(Mel Melcon / Los Angeles Times)
The Way Station bar was destroyed by the Dixie fire in Greenville.
Mel Melcon started out with the Los Angeles Times in 1984 as a summer intern and has been here ever since. He worked on a freelance basis from 1985 to 1997, then was hired full time. Melcon likes to capture the offbeat and funny side of life in his images.
