TheBanyanTree: The edge of the inferno

[Woofess]

This is an excellent account Robin :)
I just wish we could reverse the damage we have caused to the planet 
before it is too late!! :(

W:)

On 12/01/2013 10:50 AM, Robin Tennant-Wood wrote:
> It was the eerie quiet that was unsettling. In 2003 when bushfires ripped
> through Canberra, destroying 500 homes and taking four human lives, the
> noise is what I remember most clearly: sirens, helicopters, traffic, wind
> and the distant roar of the firestorm as it consumed several suburbs on one
> side of the city while we anxiously watched for any signs of a wind change
> that would send it towards us. But this time an unnatural silence pervaded.
>
> Our country road is not exactly busy, but during a normal day there’s
> always a few timber jinkers from the pine plantations and state forest
> logging coups to the south; stock trucks taking cattle or sheep to the sale
> yards; local utes and farm vehicles. During the school holidays, as it is
> now, there is generally a steady stream of campers to and from the
> campground in the national park on the other side of the road. Tuesday,
> though, there was nothing. National park campgrounds throughout the state
> were closed, a total fire ban in place and all logging and forestry
> operations suspended. The tiniest spark from machinery, a carelessly tossed
> cigarette butt or an unattended camp stove could have sparked an inferno.
> There were no trucks, no campers and everyone who lives locally was staying
> home. Waiting and watching.
>
> We’d made our preparations, as best we could, the day before. Because we’re
> still in the process of building, there are piles of timber and other
> materials close to the yurt. We shifted what we could as far away from the
> house as possible and restacked it. Our brushcutter had died
> unceremoniously a few days earlier so Roger borrowed one from the
> neighbour, and I cut down the grass around the immediate vicinity of the
> house. Of course, these preparations should have been made well before the
> fire season but two cool, damp summers in a row have lulled most of us out
> of our usual summer fire alertness. Finally, in the dying light on Monday
> evening, we filled two 1000 litre tanks from the dam and brought the little
> firefighting pump up to the tank nearest the house. It was dark before we
> came inside. A quick discussion over dinner finalised our step-by-step plan
> of action – and survival – should there be an emergency situation.
>
> Tuesday’s forecast was for temperatures around 43C (that’s about 110F) and
> winds from the west and north-west. The fire danger warning for our region
> was set to the highest classification: Catastrophic. By mid-morning our
> outside thermometer was already reading 37 and the wind was starting to
> gust strongly. The Rural Fire Service (RFS) website crashed by lunchtime
> and a Google mirror site was quickly put up to take some of the pressure.
>
> The Yarrabin fire, some 80kms to the south of us had been burning out of
> control for about two days and the hot wind, now constant and gusting to
> 100kms per hour, was fanning it. Evacuations were ordered for that area.
> Then came the chilling message from the RFS on Twitter: “Residents in the
> Kybean Valley it is too late to leave. Take cover immediately. Protect
> yourself from radiant heat. Fire impacting NOW.” This was the first of many
> such tweets during the day as more fires took hold across the state. A
> smudge of brown on the southern horizon clearly indicated the location of
> the Yarrabin fire. By mid-afternoon there was a corresponding smudge to the
> north where the Sand Hills fire was well on its way to burning through 1400
> hectares of bush and farmland. On the other side of Canberra a major
> emergency was unfolding with a fire out of control on both sides of the
> highway between Sydney and Melbourne. Already there were reports of major
> stock losses and with each RFS update new fires were being reported.
>
> We watched and waited.  The temperature peaked at our place at 38. Hot,
> certainly, but not the 43 we had feared. The wind, though, was fierce.
> Straight from the core of the heatwave that is still monstering the centre
> of the continent, it was like sticking your head in a fan-forced oven. I
> stood at the kitchen window and watched my parched vegetable garden being
> blown flat. A cool south-easterly change was forecast for late afternoon.
> It was just a matter of waiting and hoping that no fires would start in our
> district. It’s about 20 years since the last bad fires in this valley and
> old-time locals shake their heads in resignation and say things like,
> “we’re overdue a big one”, and “just a matter of time”. As I watched the
> bush around us bowing with the gusts of hot wind and scanned the skies for
> signs of smoke I was put in mind of the line from Dante’s *Inferno*: “Do
> not be afraid; our fate Cannot be taken from us; it is a gift.” This I know
> to be true, but just the same I’d prefer it if my gift doesn’t come with
> roaring flames, choking smoke and flying embers thanks very much.
>
> The wind started to drop around 6.00pm and by 7.00 had swung, as predicted,
> to the south-east. The temperature dropped and we opened the house up to
> get the cooler air inside. By this time there were over 140 fires burning
> across the state, 40 of them out of control. The Kings Highway between
> Braidwood and Canberra was closed due to the Sand Hills fire, the Princes
> Highway down the coast was closed with an out-of-control fire that was
> forcing evacuations from a coastal town packed with holidaymakers. The
> Yarrabin fire had burnt over 4,500 hectares. In the four days since then it
> has more than doubled that size and is now heading towards a national park.
>
> At about 10.00pm I went outside to savour the cool evening air. There was
> no moon and still no traffic. The Milky Way stretched from horizon to
> horizon. The bush was strangely silent. No frogsong from the dam, no *boo-book,
> boo-book *from the southern boobook owls calling across the ridges, no
> familiar wombat snuffling down by the creek. From Dante’s *Inferno* again
> came a line: “From there we came outside and saw the stars”. We had avoided
> the inferno this time. Through the silence the stars were almost deafening.
>
> As I write we are again under a heightened fire alert. The fire danger
> warning has been taken down a notch from Catastrophic to Extreme, the
> temperature at Innisfree is hovering steadily around 35-37 and again we
> have a gusty nor-westerly wind. The majority of fires in the state have
> been brought under control after a few days of cooler weather and thanks to
> the massive efforts of the army of volunteer firefighters of the RFS.
> Remarkably, and to the credit of the RFS and the awareness of people in
> fire-prone areas, no lives have been lost to bushfire so far this summer.
>
> But it’s much like standing on the edge of the abyss and staring into the *
> Inferno*. Those of us who have vivid memories of Canberra in 2003, or the
> Victorian fires in 2009 that reduced two entire towns to ash and claimed
> almost 200 human lives shiver in horror that it should happen again. But it
> will. We know now that climate change is here and we are seeing a new
> reality. We also know that we can do something to slow, if not stop, the
> onset of this reality. It will take collective will and courage, but, if
> we're to avoid the inferno we have no choice. To give the final word to
> Dante: “The hottest places in hell are reserved for those who, in times of
> great moral crisis, maintain their neutrality.


-- 

Best regards,

Woofie

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"The one constant in life is absurdity" - Woofie - 30/4/02

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