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Writer and former pro surfer Jamie Brisick<\/a><\/strong> has a story in\u00a0The New Yorker<\/a><\/em><\/strong>, sadly, he had to lose his home to the Malibu fire to make it happen. In his Personal History<\/em> story A Surfer’s Perspective on Malibu In Flames<\/a><\/em><\/strong> he explains what it was like to go back in during the evacuation to check on things. Here’s a piece.<\/p>\n The homes leading up to mine were gone, and so were the homes across the street. I pulled into the gravel driveway and got out of my car. The burning smell was like a punch in the face. There was nothing left of the front house, a ranch-style home where my neighbors\u2014a husband, wife, twin thirteen-year-old daughters, and two loud dogs\u2014had lived. I followed the winding concrete footpath back to my guesthouse. It used to be shaded by a canopy of trees, but the trees were no longer. Ditto the surfboard rack that held a half-dozen prized boards. I\u2019d never seen a burned surfboard before. The foam had disintegrated, but the fibreglass husks remained. They resembled shed skin, or cocoons.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n For the rest of his story, please click the link<\/a><\/strong>. Brisick’s perspective has much more to do with his being a great writer, than it does with being a surfer, but those East Coasties seem to have a thing for surfers who can write.<\/p>\n