After Woolsey fire erupted, impromptu seagoing support team piloted supplies into Malibu

By Bradley Bermont, contributing writer

With police checkpoints preventing access to Malibu, still under mandatory evacuation on Tuesday as the Woolsey fire continued to burn, residents who stayed behind found themselves trapped with no supplies.

They needed food, water, firefighting gear, first-aid kits and fuel for cars and generators.

Boats filled with people and supplies started arriving on Sunday, anchoring in a yellow haze of smoke near Malibu’s iconic Paradise Cove.

It started as a scattershot effort. But by Monday, the citizen-organized supply chain was established, including makeshift distribution centers and some door-to-door deliveries.

When the fire stormed into the area on Friday, Kevin Michaels stayed behind to protect his 10-home community for nearly three hours before firefighters arrived.

By Sunday, he was headed back to Los Angeles for supplies when officers stationed at checkpoints told him that he wouldn’t be able to get back in.

MORE: This map shows where the Woolsey fire is burning in LA and Ventura counties

“Instantly, my first thought was to anchor off the beach,” he said while piloting his 60-foot yacht.

Michaels was headed to Paradise Cove for his second run in two days. The yacht was filled with almost a dozen people and hundreds of pounds of supplies. He was stretching the weight limit, barely able to keep the exhaust pipe out of the water.

“I’ve only ever used it for party pleasure,” he said. “But this is stuff we needed 48 hours ago.”

Also on board was Dax Miller, an architect and designer, who brought production radios to distribute between a few central staging areas, all organized by civilians.

“All the locals have been amazing — I’ve never seen anything like it,” he said. “It gives you hope.”

As the boat crossed into Malibu, the winds started to shift; Santa Monica’s cool ocean breeze gave way to smoky Santa Anas.

As Michaels dropped anchor near the pier in Paradise Cove, passenger Chris Garvin prepared the jam-packed dinghy.

With no room to sit, Garvin balanced himself on canisters of gas while piloting the dinghy to shore.

A group met the small boat just beyond the surf, forming a human chain to tote canisters from the boat into a waiting truck.

Lifeguards stationed on the beach — not to evacuate or prevent supplies from getting in, as social media rumors suggested — but to keep everyone safe as they maneuvered boats in and out.

An off-duty police officer helped get supplies between the dinghy and the truck. The officer, who did not give his name, found out that several people needed medication.

“I don’t even know what kind of medicine it was,” he said, explaining that he used his badge to get through the checkpoints. After his mission was complete, he decided to stay.

“Rather than have me stand on some street corner in the valley,” he said, “I think I can do more good here.”

As soon as the dinghy was empty, Garvin raced back to the yacht. Michaels and others loaded it up again — and again, and again.

They honed the process throughout the day. A half-dozen boats showed up before Michaels and two more arrived. Whenever a truck was loaded with supplies, someone would drive it to the staging area. Then another truck would take its place and the cycle would start anew.

Alex Orbison took the wheel of one of the supply trucks. As he pulled away from Paradise Cove, his radio crackled: “We’ve got a lady here who wants to get up to Bluewater — can you swing back and grab her?”

As Katherine Kyman climbed into the truck, her face was twisted with anxiety. She feared the worst. She hadn’t seen her house since evacuating on Friday, but heard that the gully behind her home fueled an inferno that devoured the neighborhood.

As the truck pulled into her neighborhood, she was taken aback. Houses that were once landmarks were destroyed — the big red house, the white house with columns. “Wait a minute — it’s gone? That house is gone?” she said.

“Oh dear God,” she repeated.

Relief washed over her face as they walked through the gate. Her house was still standing. And her car started immediately.

“It’s not over,” Orbison said to her. “It’s going to be a little shocking, I’m warning you.”

They walked through her living room, filled with covered furniture, and into the backyard. She covered her mouth in shock.

Her guest house was rubble. And her husband’s Porsche, which he picked her up in 30 years ago when they started dating, was a burned-out husk, partially melted to the back driveway.

But, all told, it could have been much worse.“You did really, really well,” Orbison said.

“We did,” she replied, looking through a burned-out fence at where her neighbor’s home used to be.

She hugged Orbison tight.

Orbison drove another five minutes down the road before turning into Point Dume Elementary School, where a team of volunteers emptied the supplies out of his truck. In the parking lot sat a row of tables, filled with supplies. Food and water, work gloves and flashlights, thick socks and thin gas masks, all provided free of charge.

“People are just coming in droves, unloading,” said Shifra Wylder, a member of the Community Emergency Response Team, noting that nearly all of the supplies were brought by boat.

Miller said the crews at Paradise Cove expanded their operation significantly on Tuesday. They boasted three boats, two jet skis — and a pulley system to lift supplies up the pier.

The outpouring was so successful, that by late Tuesday, Miller said Point Dume distribution center and headquarters did not need additional supplies delivered by boat. They will not be receiving supplies by boat or have the manpower to do so on Wendesday, he said, there are other communities that need the supplies and support more right now.

He encouraged those who wanted to still help to donate to those other groups.

“That’s how Malibu works,” said Wylder. “We’re Malibu strong. That’s who we are.”