TheBanyanTree: The edge of the inferno

[Sally Larwood]

A great relief to all that the cool change has come and hope at it helped. Bugger the lightning though. 

Just so glad you're both okay. 

Sal 

Sent from my iPad 

On 12/01/2013, at 21:54, Robin Tennant-Wood <rtennantwood at gmail.com> wrote:

> The Kybean Valley, which is the danger area at the moment, is to the south
> of here - the only worry from that fire is if it gets into the national
> park, then anything can happen. Hopefully with the cooler change they'll be
> able to contain it fully before the next hot spell hits.
> 
> We had dinner at the next door neighbours' tonight with a group of locals,
> and it's very reassuring to know that we're all in this together and
> everyone is looking out for one another. Having a close-knit community is
> really good when the situation is uncertain. The local council has also
> been good - we all got a phone message on Monday night to inform us that
> the fire alert was classified Catastrophic and giving us emergency numbers.
> 
> So far, so good, but summer is far from over.
> 
> cheers, and thanks for all the good wishes
> 
> Robin
> 
> 
> 
> On 12 January 2013 20:43, Sally Larwood <larwos at me.com> wrote:
> 
>> Glad you've let us know. There's been much worry about your situation
>> 
>> Sal
>> 
>> Sent from my iPad
>> 
>> On 12/01/2013, at 20:23, Woofess <Woofess at iinet.net.au> wrote:
>> 
>>> 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
>>> 
>>> **********************************************************
>>> 
>>> "The one constant in life is absurdity" - Woofie - 30/4/02
>>> 
>>> **********************************************************
>>> 
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>>