Groundwork For Resilience

Inside the long road to recovery at Will Rogers State Historic Park and Topanga State Park

By Ashley Moore

On the morning of January 7, 2025, the fire moved fast. Flames were first spotted around 10:30 a.m., and by sundown, they had reached the historic heart of Will Rogers State Historic Park. In just a few hours, fire had swept through canyons and neighborhoods, jumping ridgelines and torching everything in its path. State Park staff had trained for emergencies like this, but nothing could truly prepare them for what came next. 

Richard Fink, Superintendent of the Angeles District, remembers how it started: smoke drifting over Topanga State Park, radios lighting up, everyone moving. Rangers began evacuating visitors and staff. Cultural Resources staff rushed to save priceless artifacts from the Will Rogers Ranch House — rolling up rugs, pulling paintings from the walls, loading furniture into pickup trucks. Maintenance crews deployed sprinklers and fire gel. Horses were moved. Fire lines were watched. 

“By 5 p.m., we were forced to evacuate,” Fink says. “The front entrance was on fire. A tree had come down. People, horses, and staff were exiting out a service road, watching the flames come into the park.” 

That night, the fire tore through Will Rogers and nearby Topanga. Of the 23,000-acre Palisades Fire, more than a third — 8,300 acres — burned on state parkland. Among the 47 structures lost on state parkland were the Will Rogers Ranch House, the stables, the Topanga Ranch Motel, and residences that housed park employees and their families. 

The damage was staggering. But what Fink remembers most is the people. “We saw so much selflessness,” he says. Several staff had just enough time to make a choice: go home and grab what they could or stay and defend the park. They stayed. “They lost everything,” Fink says. “And the next morning, they were back in the same uniform, doing their job.” 

Mary Calvaresi, Program Manager of Interpretation and Education for the Angeles District, experienced the same fire from a different vantage point. What stood out most to her wasn’t just the devastation — it was the uncertainty of those first few days. “People wanted to help. They wanted to know what happened,” she recalls. “But in those first few days, we didn’t even know yet ourselves. We just knew it was bad.” 

The fire burned for 21 days. While smoke still hung in the air, staff were already beginning the slow work of responding. Debris removal had to be handled carefully. At Will Rogers, the buildings’ historic foundations meant Army Corps of Engineers crews had to remove rubble by hand, combing through the ashes for anything salvageable. Hundreds of hazardous trees were tagged for removal. Fencing and signage were ordered to keep visitors safe. And all the while, staff worked to reopen trails, assess damaged buildings, and set up temporary replacements for what was lost. 

As Calvaresi explains, so much simply vanished — vehicles, tools, signage, and even a basic way to meet with the public. In the aftermath, one question echoed throughout staff meetings and community conversations: How does a park move forward from this — not just physically, but emotionally, operationally, and equitably? Recovery wasn’t about checking boxes — it surfaced difficult questions about park stewardship, emergency response, and what it means to prepare for a future shaped by fire. 

Amid the uncertainty, staff began planning for the future. A mobile visitor center is in development — a trailer that can be deployed quickly, serve as an educational touchpoint, and be moved out of harm’s way when the next emergency comes. A temporary contact station is also in the works, giving staff and community members a place to gather, share updates, and start imagining what rebuilding might look like. 

While the loss was immense, Calvaresi says this about the opportunity ahead: “We’re not going to be able to replace what was lost. But we can create something new that serves people now and helps us be better prepared for what’s coming.” e 

Preparing for the future means rethinking everything from fire ecology interpretation and ranger vehicles that can access rugged terrain to new signage and trail systems that guide visitors safely through changed landscapes. It also means training interpreters and staff to hold space for grief and trauma. “We’re not therapists,” Calvaresi says, “but we are on the front lines when people come back to these parks for the first time. They bring their experiences with them. We need to be ready for that.” 

Many of those experiences go beyond park gates. Some employees and volunteers lived in neighborhoods that burned. Colleagues lost their homes. Families were uprooted. Some staff are now commuting from temporary housing, still showing up each day to clear trails, secure dangerous areas, and restore what they can. 

“There’s a triage that happens,” Calvaresi explains. “What can we do now? What can we plan for in the next three years? What’s realistic in five? We’re trying to pace ourselves, even as people are asking for immediate answers.” 

That pacing means recognizing what’s possible and what’s not. Some trails were too damaged to reopen quickly. Others needed new infrastructure or rerouting. Rangers needed equipment to patrol hard-hit backcountry. Interpreters needed new tools and training. 

Calvaresi sums it up: “We’re rebuilding the capacity to serve. It’s not just one thing — it’s everything.” 

California State Parks Foundation’s Climate Crisis Relief Fund has helped support this work. The fund was created after the 2020 CZU Lightning Complex Fire to meet unanticipated urgent needs when disaster strikes. At Will Rogers and Topanga, that included fencing, a small off-road vehicle to help staff access damaged backcountry trails, and the mobile visitor center currently in development. A drone funded through the Relief Fund has also become an essential tool; it’s used to monitor sensitive areas, support patrol operations, and assist interpretive staff with imagery for educational programs. 

“It’s something we’d needed for a long time. We just didn’t have the money for it,” says David Gunn, Supervising State Park Peace Officer for the Angeles District. “Now we can cover more ground, respond faster, and support our team more effectively.” He adds, “It’s something we’ve always done and always will do, but having these tools helps us do the job more efficiently. It’s an extension of our team.” 

The support matters. But it’s the people who make recovery possible. 

“We’ve had co-workers lose everything. And they still come in. They still show up,” Calvaresi says. “We’re part of this community, too, and we want to do right by it.” 

In partnership with the Ranger Foundation, California State Parks Foundation also provided direct financial support to park staff who lost homes or were displaced, which helped them cover urgent expenses in the immediate aftermath of the fire. 

As the Angeles District continues its long recovery, one thing is certain: This won’t be the last fire. Staff have responded to multiple wildfires in recent years, and they speak with sobering clarity about what’s ahead. The conversation is no longer about whether a fire will happen, but when — and how to prepare for it. 

“Historically, we thought of fire as a seasonal effect,” Calvaresi says. “The reality is that fire is year-round. It’s not a matter of if but when. By shifting our thinking, we can develop strategic plans that equip all of us for fire response.” 

For the community, too, the pain runs deep. Many neighbors lost their homes. Others returned to charred hillsides and fractured routines. Some are still waiting for insurance to come through. And while parks are often seen as a refuge in hard times, reopening too soon can pose real risks. Trails may look fine but be structurally unsound. Fire roads may have been overrun during emergency response. Staff are doing everything they can to make sure public access is safe, equitable, and sustainable. 

“We want to welcome people back,” Calvaresi says, “but we also have to do it right.” 

At Will Rogers and Topanga, recovery is far from over. But the work underway isn’t just about rebuilding. It’s about reimagining what it means to care for parks in a world shaped by climate change. It means honoring what was lost — and staying ready for whatever comes next. And it’s about people — the ones who stayed, the ones who returned, and the ones who are showing us all what resilience really looks like. 
 

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