NAPA, Calif. — On March 19, 2020, I embarked on a mission. That day California had announced a lockdown due to the pandemic. As a Napa Valley-based photojournalist, I felt it was my duty to capture the events that followed on film, using my camera lens as a witness to the desolation, fear and glimmers of hope that unfolded during those historic events.
As COVID-19 swept through the region, Napa Valley's iconic landscapes underwent a profound transformation. The once-vibrant vineyards and busy streets fell eerily silent, painting a somber picture of the challenges faced by the community. The desolate scenes I photographed mirrored the uncertainty and upheaval that gripped our region during those trying times.
Throughout this period, messages of unity and resilience emerged as beacons of hope. Vibrant symbols etched on walls, windows and sidewalks served as a reminder of our collective determination to navigate the crisis together. These images captured the spirit of endurance amidst adversity, standing testament to the strength of community bonds.
My role as a photojournalist was not without its challenges. As I documented the unfolding events, my presence elicited mixed reactions. Some viewed my camera as an intrusion, feeling vulnerable and fearful, while others recognized the significance of preserving this historic moment.
The pandemic gave rise to widespread panic among the populace. Grocery stores saw long queues and bare shelves as fear gripped the hearts of residents. My camera attempted to document the anxieties faced by Napa Valley's residents.
Amidst the panic, however, were sparks of compassion and unity. Acts of kindness emerged as rays of hope as neighbors supported one another and frontline workers exemplified unwavering dedication.
As if the challenges posed by the pandemic were not enough, Napa Valley was struck by the devastating Glass Fire on Sept. 27, 2020. This destructive inferno razed over 67,000 acres of land and obliterated more than 1,500 structures, including 308 homes and 343 commercial buildings in Napa County, along with 334 homes in Sonoma County. The costs of this catastrophe reached into the billions, leaving a trail of destruction and despair in its wake.
The impact of the Glass Fire went beyond mere property loss. Exposure to smoke from this fire and others exacerbated pulmonary injuries and diseases, further burdening the already beleaguered community.
Beyond the direct impact of the fires, additional issues arose when the threat of fire loomed. Several fires were ignited by downed power lines during high-wind events. In response, PG&E adopted an aggressive public safety power shutoff policy, turning off power to homes and businesses in fire-prone areas during periods of high winds and hot weather.
The consequences of these PSPS events, coupled with the lockdown and wildfires, were far-reaching. Calistoga, where I live, experienced weeks without power during the height of the harvest season, leading to even more substantial disruptions in daily life. Each power outage lasted for days and resulted in stifling heat without air conditioning, spoiled food in failed refrigerators and limited internet access. The few remaining businesses that were operating throughout the lockdowns were brought to a halt. Winery operations stunted by COVID-19 restrictions ceased; restaurants that had shifted to takeout were closed again.
For residents and businesses alike, this painful and costly cycle of on-again-off-again presented an added layer of hardship during an already difficult time. There was nowhere for anyone to run and hide. Nowhere felt safe. Even the idea of fleeing to stay with family and friends remained impossible for many. If the world was trapped by the pandemic restrictions, those in our area who were forced to evacuate due to wildfires found themselves in a hellscape that was the stuff of movies. Trapped.
As I set out each day, I felt driven by a mix of trepidation and determination. I hoped each photograph might stand as testament to the urgency of that time, a visual chronicle seeking to preserve the essence of our collective experience.
Today it’s hard for me to remember much of that time, but I believe it is important to do so. First, we are the survivors of a global pandemic. Many were not so fortunate. This gallery of photographs presents a narrative of Napa Valley's journey through the pandemic and fire. These images serve as my attempt to capture an extraordinary time that we survived together. My hope is that we remember what it felt like when we sat in our homes as healthcare workers suited up to go to work along with grocery store employees, scientists at their lab benches and so many others. I also hope they act as reminders of our shared vulnerability, that each of us has lost something valuable and that patience and kindness are essential.
Tim Carl is a Napa Valley based photojournalist.
This well documented story reminded me that the fear of devastation by fire and the eerie isolation and uncertainty caused by the pandemic were real, not just a half forgotten dream. Our community is fortunate. We are safe now but the people living on the once beautiful island of Maui must be going through pure hell.
Tim, I am calmed by reading your story. I remember feeling many of the emotions you describe with words and photos but have now faded for me (thankfully). I sometimes doubt my memories of how anxiety ridden life was then. The fires on top of the covid-19 fear was sneakily traumatic for me, for all of us. Sneaky, because we dealt, we carried on, we tried to make the world feel safe for loved ones but went to bed with our phones still on, with 'to go' bags by the front door and made sure our cars had filled tanks and that we had masks to protect anyone from our potential germs. I am involved with a public community creative project in Calistoga which seeks to address or 'heal' some of the trauma of the pandemic. Calistogans are invited to paint a design on a ceramic tile using underglazes, that resonates or emotes an experience they felt during or continue to feel about the Covid-19 pandemic. (go to www.calistogaartcenter.org to find out about tile painting session dates) Those experiences are beginning to fade but they have also illuminated how precious life and health and communication, politics and community is. I don't want to forget that. Thank you for your documentation!