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Recovering from a disaster like the Palisades or Eaton fire can take years. Here’s what they can expect.

Two weeks after two of California’s most destructive wildfires on record sparked on the same day in Los Angeles, tens of thousands of displaced residents are taking the first steps of their recovery processes. Officials have started lifting evacuation orders for both the Eaton and Palisades fires, allowing families to return to their properties for the first time. For those whose houses survived, that means suiting up in personal protective equipment and cautiously wiping away ash, throwing out spoiled food, and assessing the damage from smoke, heat, and flames. For those whose houses were lost, it means sorting through wreckage to see what, if anything, can be salvaged.
This moment marks the first of many milestones fire survivors will encounter in the weeks, months, and years to come. Urban wildfires launch complicated timelines that involve a braiding of bureaucratic checklists and personal choices. The volume of decisions can be daunting in both volume and scope, stretched over the course of months, if not years.
It took about 15 months for the first house to be rebuilt and occupied following the 2023 Lahaina Fire in Maui. Five years after the 2018 Camp Fire — which is currently the only California wildfire more devastating than the Eaton Fire — the hard-hit town of Paradise had still rebuilt only about a third of its lost structures. The recovery from the 2021 Marshall Fire in Colorado has notably outpaced many others. There, about two-thirds of the lost homes were rebuilt within the first three years, but that still leaves hundreds wading through their next steps with waning support.
Jennifer Gray Thompson, founder and CEO of the nonprofit group After the Fire U.S.A., told me it’s important to understand that every disaster — and therefore every recovery — is different. Her organization helps communities through this process, building on the knowledge of survivors from previous wildfires, and she said each community tends to make some adaptations and improvements. But the experiences of other wildfire-impacted areas can offer L.A.’s fire survivors an idea of the steps and potential concerns they can expect to encounter next.
Take the re-entry process. As Los Angeles Mayor Karen Bass explained in a press conference on Monday, “Re-entry is based on safety.” And just because the fire has passed doesn’t mean the danger has: “Firefighters are still at work to prevent fires, to prevent flare-ups; there are hazardous materials being dealt with; utility repairs are underway; or there is other emergency work that makes it unsafe to be in the area,” Bass said. So far, officials doing this work have identified more than 16,000 destroyed structures and 28 fatalities from the two fires.
This waiting phase can be particularly challenging for those who evacuated, said Thompson. The adrenaline that helped impacted families make it through the fire might be waning under the weight of time, and the road ahead can start to feel overwhelming as various government agencies come to town and task forces pop up. It can take weeks for some evacuees to get the go-ahead to return home, particularly if they choose to wait for hazardous materials to get cleared, as L.A. County Department of Public Health Director Barbara Ferrer has recommended.
That brings us to the two phases of cleanup: removing hazardous materials and disposing of debris. Since the L.A. wildfires are a federally declared disaster, the Federal Emergency Management Agency is able to direct resources toward these tasks, with more than 500 Environmental Protection Agency employees currently surveying the burned areas to identify and collect of things like propane tanks, batteries, and other contaminants, which are packaged up and then disposed of off-site. This reduces the risks for residents returning to their properties, removing some obvious sources of chemicals and toxins like heavy metals and asbestos.
Once residents do make it back, they’ll have the opportunity to both survey and sift through their homes and choose whether they would like the government to remove the remains or contract out to a private company. This part of the process traditionally takes months, if not longer, depending on the scope of the damage, volume of the debris, and cooperation of the residents. For perspective, one year after the Lahaina Fire, debris removal was still ongoing and had racked up a more than $1 billion bill. The Army Corps of Engineers, which led this effort in Lahaina, will take charge again in L.A., with the L.A. Department of Public Works overseeing both phases from the local level.
While these are the larger hurdles residents will need to cross on the property level in order to rebuild, there will also be a number of government and utility-led efforts to make their homes habitable. That includes addressing issues with electric and water systems, from downed lines to blocked or broken sewers. These efforts are now underway in both burned areas, with utility trucks becoming a common sight across the county.
All of this can clear the way for construction to begin on the impacted properties, which comes with its own set of timelines, costs, and players. California Governor Gavin Newsom and Los Angeles Mayor Karen Bass have issued executive orders to reduce some of the bureaucracy that often accompanies permitting and building in L.A. These include suspending environmental reviews, expediting permitting, and clearing the way to “rebuild homes as they were.”
Still, residents will have to get those permits approved and source labor and materials for the project in what’s become a crowded national market. Other disasters, such as last year’s one-two punch of Hurricanes Helene and Milton, have created unusually high competition, with one development firm executive telling the Wall Street Journal he foresees a “Hunger Games-style competition for materials and labor.”
Fire survivors will also need to find the funds to put towards these projects, whether that’s through government aid, insurance, fundraising campaigns, or digging deep into their own pockets. Robert Fenton, Jr., a FEMA regional administrator, said that as of Wednesday, the agency has registered nearly 100,000 fire survivors to receive aid so far, including money to cover immediate needs for evacuees and to provide personal property and displacement assistance. But many previous disaster survivors will attest that navigating FEMA’s system can be challenging, particularly if you are also insured. Insurance claims need to be filed first — so that FEMA avoids duplicating aid homeowners are already receiving — another process that is known to be both slow and time-consuming, requiring a litany of paperwork and receipts.
And all of this is assuming no additional disasters occur during the recovery process. Wildfire-scorched areas are vulnerable to debris flows when it rains, as it is forecasted to do for the first time in months this weekend. Speaking at a county press conference Wednesday, Mark Pestrella, director of the L.A. Department of Public Works, said his office will be conducting 24/7 storm patrols, making assessments of burned properties and deploying sediment traps and sandbags in at-risk areas. Other weather conditions, like extreme heat or high winds, can also suspend operations and further delay residents from returning.
Overall, Thompson referred to rebuilding after a wildfire as “the biggest group project most people will have ever done in their lives.” Individuals, government officials, non-profits, attorneys, insurers, utilities, developers, and all sorts of laborers will be a part of the process, each bringing their own perspectives, needs, and costs to the table — some complementary and some competing.
Already, there is tension between the desire to rebuild for displaced residents and the desire to make the impacted area more resilient in the face of future hazards. In her newsletter, Susan Crawford, a climate adaptation expert and senior fellow at the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, described the urge to quickly restore what was lost in L.A. as “both understandable and unthinkable” given the county’s ongoing housing crisis and wildfire risk. (Crawford is also a Heatmap contributor.)
“It’s obvious we should be taking a step back and thinking how and where we are rethinking how and where we live, but it may be too much to contemplate in this thickly populated area,” Crawford told me.
For those in L.A. trying to find their own way forward through these agencies and agendas, Thompson recommends turning to others who understand what you’re going through, like your neighbors. Establishing ways to share information, support, and organize can help ensure your community’s concerns and priorities are taken into account in the recovery process.
“You can actually do this,” she said. “It feels right now like it can’t, and it’s going to take time and it comes in stages. But you’re not alone.”
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The two economic booms resemble each other somewhat. But data centers have a far more dire PR problem.
This is an edition of Heatmap Daily, an evening review of the day’s news written by our executive editor. Sign up for it here.
In Pennsylvania, the governor required data center developers to comply with new restrictions. Texas began its mandatory audit for grid-connected data centers. And Nebraska limited tax incentives for data centers and started a new task force.
In Wisconsin’s governor race, candidates began posturing over who will treat data centers the toughest; in Michigan’s Senate race, the GOP candidate Mike Rogers called for a statewide moratorium on them. A Politico analysis found that of the more than 100 campaign ads mentioning data centers this election, none have put the technology in a positive light.
It makes sense, then, that when Heatmap published its most recent polling on data centers — finding that 75% of Americans oppose their local development — it seemed to blow up. But there’s one aspect of that polling that I want to discuss here, because I think it has been underacknowledged.
It’s this: According to our polling, data centers are about as unpopular in urban areas as rural areas. They’re slightly less unpopular in the suburbs.
The differences in disapproval, to be clear, aren’t enormous. Local data center development is 63 points underwater in rural areas and 60 points underwater in urban areas. That’s close enough to our poll’s 2.3% margin of error that it may just be noise. Even in the suburbs, data center development is 58 points underwater — a small distinction.
But it represents a big shift from the political geography of recent decades, where cities and rural areas have tended to disagree profoundly over policy. Since the 2000 election or so, cities have elected Democrats, rural areas have picked Republicans, and then the parties have fought over the suburbs.
Data centers, however, appear to unite these two partisan bases against some of the country’s largest companies — and some of our political systems’ odder ducks. Heatmap’s polling earlier this year found that AI YIMBYs tend to be urban, largely Trump-voting men who are optimistic about technology. And in March, the Republican pollster Echelon Insights found that some of data centers’ biggest fans were MAGA Republicans with graduate degrees living in cities.
These results help explain why Republicans have suddenly turned on a dime against data centers: Their base has rejected it. As a political reporter friend put it to me, after looking at our data, you don’t want to be on the wrong side of a trend that’s uniting college-educated and non-college-educated Americans.
In trying to understand this transition, I’ve tried to think about other technologies that have undergone similar investment booms in recent American history. One oft-made comparison is fracking, which expanded quickly across the country in the 2010s. Many commentators — myself included — have suggested that data centers may follow fracking’s example, where blue states ban a new type of economic activity and red states welcome it. The red (and sometimes purple) states then get to reap much of the resulting economic growth — and the tax receipts — while everyone has to deal with the emissions. The revelation that data centers are driving a new natural gas boom only deepens the link.
But there’s one big problem with that analogy: Fracking was never this unpopular. While fracking has rarely commanded a large majority of support among the mass public, its popular nadir came in spring 2020, when 60% of Americans told Pew that they opposed an expansion of fracking. (Its popularity began to recover after President Biden took office — a classic case of thermostatic public opinion.)
In every poll that we could find at Heatmap, too, expanding fracking always commanded a majority of Republican support. Throughout the 2010s and 2020s, rank-and-file Republicans have wanted to “drill, baby, drill.” But they don’t seem to want to “compute, baby, compute.” And that means — among other things — energy and climate analysts like me need to find another analogy.
Temperatures are high, but electricity drama is low.
The Texas summer isn’t over — highs today are forecasted to be at or above 100 degrees Fahrenheit in much of the state — but so far the state’s grid has held up.
In the past month or so, Texas’ grid has hit a number of generation records, according to data collected by Grid Status. Those include its highest load ever (91,308 megawatts on July 22), its highest level of renewables generation (53,000 megawatts on August 13), maximum wind output (29,000 megawatts on June 29) and, most notably, its maximum battery discharge (some 13,256 megawatts earlier this week, on August 23, at 7:45 p.m.).
And all the while, the grid has been stable, which is by no means guaranteed in Texas.
The state’s grid operator, ERCOT, has not issued a single “conservation appeal” so far this summer, asking Texans to voluntarily reduce electricity consumption to support the grid. By contrast, in 2023, the grid manager issued six between August 24 and August 30.
Those conservation appeals were almost always given for the late afternoon and early evening, when demand typically peaks thanks to demand from workers returning home and cranking up their air conditioning. That’s also when the grid has to ramp up dispatchable resources quickly to compensate for solar falling off the grid as the sun sets.
“We’re really seeing peak demand divorced from peak prices,” Joshua Rhodes, research scientist at the University of Texas, told me. This means that when demand is at its highest on a summer day — say around 4 p.m. this past Monday, when load was over 90 gigawatts — real-time prices were about $46 per megawatt-hour, according to Grid Status. At that time, natural gas made up about 42% of the grid and solar 36%. Compare that to the same time in 2023, when real-time prices were $85 per megawatt-hour during peak usage times and wind and solar combined made up around 20% of the grid.
As Abby Lestina, principal market analyst at Grid Status, put it to me, “The lack of pricing action would lead to the conclusion that the grid is more stable.”
Another positive side effect of that stability is that batteries on the system can still charge even when demand is at its highest, and then discharge in the evening to help make up for lost solar. “Even when we were setting peak demand records, we’re still on net charging batteries, which at first blush feels so wrong,” Rhodes told me. “We have so much solar on the system that we’re charging batteries when prices are low, getting ready to discharge as the sun goes down before the wind picks back up.”
Let’s take Monday as an example again: At 7:50 p.m., when solar was down to just 1.5% of the mix on the grid, batteries were discharging 11,573 megawatts and real-time prices were around $125 per-megawatt-hour. On the same Monday of 2023, real-time prices at 7:50 p.m. were bouncing up and down from just below the statutory peak of $5,000 per megawatt hour and batteries were putting out just over a gigawatt.
“Because we have so much battery capacity online, it hasn’t been all that exciting,” Olivier Beaufils, head of US central at Aurora Energy Advisors, told me, referring to the hand-off from solar to batteries. “The price action, it’s like 150 bucks, not thousands, and that’s really because of this battery capacity.”
Texas is also aided by friendly geography — there are extensive solar projects in the western part of the state, while the load is largely in the Texas Triangle in the eastern part of the state, giving solar panels an extra hour or so to serve high demand later in the day.
Average electricity bills in Texas, an energy-hungry state, sat at $252 a month in July, according to Heatmap and MIT’s Electricity Price Hub, up just 2.3% in the past year, while rates are virtually unchanged at 16 cents per kilowatt-hour.
Along with California’s CAISO, ERCOT dominates battery deployment in the United States. According to the energy consulting firm GridLab, “ERCOT alone has deployed nearly 10 times more storage than PJM, MISO, SPP, and the Southeast combined.”
If anything, Texas’ solar and grid battery industries have been a victim of their own success. In Texas, where battery projects are brought online by investors seeking profits in the energy markets, generators make money by selling when prices are high. The same lower prices that show batteries are making the grid more stable are also revenues that battery operators are no longer getting.
“We’ve added so much battery capacity that they’ve cannibalized, they’ve eaten their own lunch,” Beaufils told me. “The situation’s a bit difficult for those operators.” California’s battery storage sector, by contrast, originated with a state mandate for utilities, jumpstarting the industry by force.
Of course, these types of cycles are nothing new to the energy business, especially in Texas.
“ERCOT’s characterized by these boom-bust cycles, and so the market’s never perfectly going to be in a supply-demand equilibrium,” Kevin Lee, head of advisory services for the central U.S. at Aurora Energy Research, told me. “Sometimes you have a little bit less capacity than you need, sometimes a little bit more. But generally, whenever you have a little bit less, the price signals go up, and then that’s driving more investment.”
While Texas still leads the country in battery additions so far this year, other states besides California are beginning to catch up, including Arizona. Thankfully, there’s still more sun yet to store.
Voltpost announced two new models today designed to mount on walls and ceilings.
Voltpost, the company putting electric vehicle chargers on lampposts, is now expanding to parking garages.
On Wednesday, the company unveiled two new configurations that can attach to the walls and ceilings of parking garages, lots, and other locations without easy access to streetlights or utility poles. Like Voltpost’s signature pole-mounted design, the ceiling- and wall-mounted options avoid the expensive construction work required by freestanding charging infrastructure. In theory at least, that should allow the company to deploy more chargers faster.
“Our mission has always been to decarbonize mobility by democratizing charging access,” Jeff Prosserman, Voltpost’s co-founder and CEO, told me. “And the real value proposition is that, when you can leverage the existing infrastructure, you can significantly reduce the cost, the timeline, and the physical footprint of chargers.”
The second Trump administration hasn’t made things easy. Almost immediately after taking office, Trump officials began slashing Biden-era programs designed to support the EV charging buildout, including the National Electric Vehicle Infrastructure and Charging and Fueling Infrastructure programs. Along with a handful of environmental groups, 17 states sued in May of last year to force the federal government to release NEVI funding and quickly received a preliminary injunction unfreezing the program. A similar group sued in December over the CFI funding, and though that case is still pending, Prosserman told me he expects to see a positive resolution before the end of the year.
Though the death of the EV tax credit has shrunk its addressable market, Voltpost has emerged relatively unscathed. “Honestly, that doesn’t really impact us at all,” Prosserman told Heatmap’s Katie Brigham last year. “At the end of the day, EV adoption will either increase X or Y percent in a given year, but it’s going to continue to increase year over year. We’re past the tipping point, going from early adopters into the mainstream.”
That said, he also told Katie that the company was taking a “more conservative approach” to growth as climate tech investment dried up. Voltpost itself also received several federal grants that are still in limbo. Instead, the company focused on its strategic partnerships with the likes of AT&T and Zipcar, and in July signed an agreement with InCharge Energy to handle installation and maintenance. To date, Voltpost’s funders include RWE Energy Transition Investments, a private equity vehicle within German energy giant RWE, alongside Twynam Funds Management, Exelon Foundation, Good News Ventures, and Climate Capital.
Like its lamppost chargers, Voltpost’s wall- and ceiling-mount kits work with Tesla and non-Tesla vehicles alike, and come with demand management software that responds to electricity time-of-use price signals to enable cheaper charging where and when possible. As for the cost of the kits and how many the company plans to install initially, Prosserman wouldn’t say.
Since deploying its first lamppost chargers in New York in 2024, Voltpost has expanded into California, Massachusetts, and Washington, D.C., among other states. It has more than 100 deployments in the pipeline through the end of this year, and is aiming for 10,000 by 2030. The point, Prosserman told me, is not to stand out in these communities, but rather to fit in.
“It’s not going to be just about greenfield project development if we’re going to decarbonize a planet across all aspects,” Prosserman said. “We’re really looking at building something that’s integrated, that fits in the fabric of the built environment and communities.”