Steve Pine used to spend his summers fighting wildfires.

I did. I did it for 15 summers when I was young, and then I wrote fire plans for three years, two at Rocky Mountain National Park and one of Yellowstone.

So when he sees images like the ones coming out of Paradise, California this past week, cars rocketing through walls of fire, charred remains of houses and wildlife.

He doesn't so much see the fire as feel it.

And when you're in and around a fire, all of your senses become overloaded.

You can't hear anything more.

You can't see anything.

All you feel is heat.

The classic phrase, actually, from the early 20th century, was that it was like a thousand trains

rushing over a thousand steel trestles. It's not an environment for making rational decisions.

Drivers on their way through the Sierra Nevada foothills used to pass this sign that read,

May You Find the Town of Paradise to be all its name implies.

Now, Paradise is gone.

That sign is burned down.

Dozens of people have died, many while trying to escape the flames, making this fire, California's deadliest.

And Steve has this very particular perspective on what's happening here.

You don't assume that this is something that will happen in California, but it does. I mean, it's repeatedly. He's written the story of fire in

America going back decades. I can go back 100 years, and we've got this story of these kinds of fires

burning, and many of them are in the same places. I mean, they're the equivalent of fire floodplanes,

and they're mapped. We know that.

So now that we're paying attention to this destruction in California, Steve feels sad,

he feels shocked, but mostly he feels frustrated.

...