California wildfires
have already destroyed an area
half the size of Hawaii since January.
After the smoke clears, Dan Ryant is on the ground
streaming the wreckage live on Facebook,
reporting to an audience hoping to see
if their homes survived.
Back behind where these cars are here,
it looks like another structure.
I don't know if it's all part of the same property or not,
but that structure is also gone.
Sorry for your loss.
I really wish I could have delivered better news to you.
His footage is often the first glance
people have into their neighborhood after the fire.
He drove over an hour and a half to document the aftermath
of the North Complex Fire here in Butte County.
Good morning, everybody.
Broadcasting again from Berry Creek, California.
Ryant livestreams
and video-calls survivors privately.
And for some, the videos are a confirmation
of their greatest fears, losing their homes.
This woman the other day just started crying.
And I said,
"I'm so sorry that I couldn't give you better news."
And she goes, "No."
She goes, "You don't know how much stress
you just took off of me."
So again, the whole point of me being out here,
she just validated it.
It's a volunteer effort
he does on his own time and dime.
Sometimes, he fundraises for expenses through GoFundMe.
But he says he doesn't want money
from those who have lost everything in the fire.
If they want to do something,
then, you know, my name is Dan.
They can plant some dandelions in their new home
when they get it rebuilt as a remembrance.
Ryant has already been to Berry Creek
nine times since the fire ripped through in early September.
His first trip down was just days after residents evacuated.
He wants to take away the stress of uncertainty
any way he can.
One survivor was able to use his footage
to validate an insurance claim.
The insurance company is immediately giving her a check,
and they were astounded that she already had
the video footage because nobody has it yet.
And that's kind of the secondary portion of this,
is it gives them a jump-start on rebuilding
and facing their future.
He can spend upwards of 12 hours a day
driving through remote towns looking for houses
damaged by fire.
Ryant took a sabbatical from his job
as a truck driver until the end of September
to devote his days to this project.
He leaves his house in Red Bluff by 7 in the morning
with a list of addresses he plans to visit,
all requests that come through Facebook.
Some of the homes will be inaccessible.
Others might be difficult to pick out of a neighborhood
where address markers are now gone.
Hey Steve, I need to know
if you left your front door open when you left.
Do you recall?
It can be dangerous work, too.
Ryant sometimes films fires that are still active.
I've had a couple of times
where I'm trying to get from point A to point B
and the wind's blowing up a ridge
and flames are kind of shooting across the road.
You have no choice but to just pray
and keep driving through.
Hey.
Get up, lazies.
Sometimes, he helps animals
or pets left behind.
Other times, it's too late.
There's also two corpses of, they look like pit bulls.
Both of them have collars on them,
but I hope they're not yours.
If they are, I'm sorry for your loss, man.
The North Complex Fire has burned
almost 300,000 acres, an area the size of Los Angeles,
since it ignited in August.
It's now the fifth deadliest wildfire in state history
with a death count of 15. And it's still burning.
But Ryant is no stranger to devastation.
He has documented five destructive fires since 2017.
It's not a hobby, but it's not a job.
It can be physically draining.
It's kind of heartbreaking.
The state's wildfires have become more frequent
and more devastating in recent years,
thanks in large part to climate change.
The rising temperatures have helped dry out forests,
making them more prone to fire.
I talked to some people
that were victims-slash-survivors of the fire,
and through talking to them, it became real clear
that there needed to be something done to help people
kind of know where they are in life.
Now, his videos can get hundreds of comments
expressing appreciation and making requests
to visit homes.
Though he tries to accommodate,
he has to keep a tight schedule,
and sometimes, he can't keep up with demand
or the physical and emotional effort the job takes.
All I'm having to deal with is,
"Hey, your house didn't make it."
And to some people, that might be easy,
but when you're telling hundreds to thousands of people,
"Hey, your house didn't make it."
Truly sorry.
I wish I could have brought you something better.