From his vantage point on Cold Spring Lane, Shaun Preston saw no upside to the devastation unfolding in front of him.

Camp Small, the Baltimore tree recycling center that Preston had poured his heart into for nearly a decade, was an inferno, its rows and rows of massive tree trunks, branches and tangles of brush swallowed by flames licking the night sky.

Preston had called in the blaze, then just a small fire in the scrub beyond the camp, hours earlier. Wisps of smoke were barely visible at that point. He climbed atop a massive wood chip pile to get a better look.

Quickly, alarmingly, things grew dire. Whipping winds preyed upon Camp Small’s near-endless supply of fuel, engulfing much of the 5-acre site. Around 11 p.m., firefighters told Preston and his staffer Nick Oster to collect anything they could carry from the camp’s workshop as a wall of flame marched closer. Preston wondered if he and the others would have jobs by daybreak.

“I’d already started thinking about ... what if everything burns?” he said. “It was a rough night emotionally.”

Today, nearly two weeks removed from the blaze, Preston is looking on the fire with fresh eyes. What seemed to be the certain destruction of Camp Small has instead brought unexpected opportunity.

Herculean efforts by legions of firefighters from the city and beyond beat back flames and spared Camp Small’s workshop full of saws, planers and other expensive equipment. A swarm of media attention wrought an outpouring of love on social media — and even an influx of customers. The Smithsonian came calling, buying $4,000 worth of ash tree lumber for an exhibit and projects — the facility’s entire stock.

And while the wreckage of charred logs still jut into the air — the fire claimed between two-thirds and three-quarters of the wood on the North Baltimore site — the rare clearing of Camp Small, already underway, presents a chance to reorganize, establish new recycling programs and install amenities to grow the site for the future.

“It’s a completely wild thing that something like this, in such a short amount of time, could seem bright,” Preston said. “That there could be a light at the end of the tunnel at all.”

For decades a site where city crews deposited fallen trees and other wood, Camp Small has quietly built a national reputation as part of Baltimore’s zero-waste initiative. With seed money received from the city’s Innovation Fund, Preston began working at Camp Small in 2016, first producing and selling compost. Today, Camp Small makes and sells mulch, firewood, whole logs, lumber and even some custom furniture.

Of the roughly 9,000 tons of wood that land at Camp Small each year, about 2,000 tons are recycled. Each week, a four-person staff plucks the highest value wood from the newly arrived brush, stacking it next to Camp Small’s workshop.

That organization proved helpful as fire swept the site on the night of Dec. 5. Firefighters were able to hold the blaze to about 100 feet away from the workshop. The highest value wood was spared. So were two kilns used to dry lumber, a portable saw, vintage woodworking equipment and stacks of cut lumber.

There were other wins. Camp Small’s narrow driveway acted as a firebreak, keeping logs on the opposite side from burning. Those will be chipped and recycled, Preston said.

The many logs that burned are a bit more challenging. While there are some unconventional uses for burned wood, it’s more beneficial for the city to have the logs hauled away, Preston said. The city is working on an emergency contract now.

Not all of the charred wood will go to waste. Before the fire, crews working on the Middle Branch restoration requested 1,000 tons of Camp Small’s scrap wood to sink beneath the water’s surface, creating a support for wetlands. The burned logs will still work for that project, a relief to the recycling-minded Camp Small staff.

Clearing Camp Small’s site, once densely packed with logs stacked 20 feet high, presents a unique opportunity. The clean slate will make room for composting and better utility connections. Logs can be better sorted for craftspeople searching for more niche items, Preston said. Most of Baltimore’s street trees are oak, ash and maple, but others woods flow into the site.

More products equal more customers, and oddly enough, the fire has attracted more than ever. Preston feared the worst as a news helicopter circled Camp Small on the night of the fire, but that has not come to pass.

“You see this devastating fire covering three acres of logs, and I thought the story of what we’re doing here would get lost,” he said.

In the days since, text messages, emails and calls have poured in — so many that Preston and Oster could barely keep up. Commenters flooded local news sites and social media platforms. Dedicated customers shared their love for Camp Small’s vision, while newbies pledged to shop there. So many offers for financial assistance flowed in that Baltimore’s Department of Recreation and Parks, which oversees Camp Small, set up a donation portal.

Nick Primo, a Baltimore resident who does production work for the Smithsonian American Art Museum, initially missed the news about the fire. He showed up to Camp Small the day afterward to make a previously scheduled purchase for the museum and found fire trucks.

“After it burned down, I was even more dedicated to say, ‘I’m going to come and we’re going to spend a bunch of money and pick up all of your stock,’” said Primo, who bought all of Camp Small’s ash lumber. “Baltimore needs help and needs good things and needs good people.”

The lumber is destined for an upcoming exhibit. After that, it will be recycled into other items for the museum.

“That lumber and those trees will have a life that’s not in a dumpster,” he said. “Like in the spirit of Camp Small I wanted to do something that’s going to be beneficial.”

The cause of the Camp Small fire remains under investigation. The only combustible materials on the site were stored across the camp from where the fire began, Preston said.

But Camp Small is already rising from the ashes. With each truck that hauls away debris, the site smells more of fresh mulch than scorched wood. Enough logs and lumber survived that Preston expects to quickly return to making custom products. Baltimore Mayor Brandon Scott has pledged to rebuild, and Preston said the administration has been supportive.

If all goes well, Camp Small could reopen to the public in the coming weeks, Preston said.

“If you’ve got a project or a thing you need, start with us,” he said. “We’re here for all things wood.”