A Look At The Consequences

The loose orange earth slid beneath our boots as we made our way up the scar in the side of the hill up towards Dante's View across from the Griffith Park observatory. The sight looked strange. Sort of like seeing a family member for the first time in years after he had suffered a severe accident that left him scarred and disfigured.
For years my uncles and I had made a routine of hiking up the mountain up to the observatory, then to Dante's View or our little "oasis" that refilled our waterbottles, and finally down a rough path that was mostly spent rolling on our asses before we made it to our parking spot beside the bird sanctuary.
For years we had been doing this. Then two of my uncles got married and had children and little time remained for weekly hiking trips and that sort of thing. I went about once a month after that with my best friend or my girlfriend (whenever it wasn't too sunny or hot and as long as I was the one who carried about 5 bottles of water in case she got dehydrated). Then the fires happened and it sort of stopped completely.
After the park was reopened and people were allowed to hike again my oldest uncle and I went back for a weekend hike on a Saturday morning.
We talked mostly about his career and funny things his daughter has done since the last time I saw her. You know, that sort of thing. We talked about cool books we've read and cool games that have come out that was followed by a discussion about how it would be funny if the makers of Guitar Hero came out with "Keytar Hero" featuring all Keyboard oriented 80's hits like Flock Of Seagulls and funny 80's bands like that. My uncle suggests Sitar Hero featuring classic Indian hits and I just laugh and look at him quizzically, "Sitar Hero???"
"Hey I was just kidding. You're the one who was all serious about Keytar Hero. I was only going with the flow."
I only laughed.
That was the sort of the thing we talked about. Then we reached the peek where we saw over the cliff and our conversation sort of died down to a slow crawl punctuated with the sound of a hawk's cry and the cascading of loose earth and rock as lizards zoomed across rocks and brush. The view was like something out of Mad Max Throughout Thunderdome. Uprooted trees were lying roots facing up to the sky like a dying animals outstretched blackened claws.
I know alot of the fires start with freak accidents involving a thrown cigarette that some jon doe tosses carelessly into the bushes without realizing the dry brush is like a piece of coal drenched in lighter fluid under the hot sun. However during the fires there was alot of reports considering arson as a cause. Of this I ask Why? Why when so many people consider these places that burn up like a match doused in gas a look at their past and of a look at their younger selves. I see old men hiking and women carrying their newborns on their back in one of those cool baby backpacks and I wonder, How many of them have come here for years? Even when they were young? How many see these hills blackened by the fire and the soil covered in orange fire retardant that smells like hay, and totally disfigures a memory of their past?
And still I ask why.