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Reg and I have had many experiences with out of control fires during our years of travelling Australia, non too dangerous or terrifying though we have had friends who have come close to home and life threatening experience over the years.

Just a few brief experiences our friends and we ourselves have had, with fires,  have included, a friend, Jeannette,  once save her and her babies life by intermittently submerging herself under the water of a flowing river to escape the heat and flames as the fire crossed above her on the outskirts of Montrose in the Dandenongs, in the 1960’s. At the same time,  her husband was out fighting the fires as a volunteer fire fighter with the Country Fire Authority and her father and I were going to the outskirts of the Dandenongs, collecting dogs and bringing them safely back to where they could be cared for away from the firestorm.  .

An art client of mine who lovingly master built his own home from scratch stayed and fought the fire and his home was the only thing left standing for miles around, due to his efforts. His home was everything he loved and he felt it worth the risk he took. Other good friends and art client had lovingly restored the original homestead, Fairhaven, at Fairhaven, diagonally across the road from the Fairhaven Life saving Club,  on the Great Ocean Road, Victoria, only to see it destroyed in the Ash Wednesday blaze in 1983. Reg and I made a round trip to all our good clients’ homes offering to replace any of the paintings they owned of mine, if the art had been lost in the fires. I was never able to make contact with the owners of the Fairhaven property. Fairhaven, had been more than a house to them, it was a restoration dream.

Many times Reg and I find ourselves driving for hundreds of kilometres with smoke and spot fires alongside us, one unpleasant such incident was in the far north west of Australia in scrub country. It was more an unpleasant and tiring experience than dangerous. I mainly wanted to drive far enough to get out of the smoke zone so it would not cause respiratory problems when we camped for the night that made it a long tiring drive and such a relief when we found a roadhouse on a large area of clear land just out f the smoke zone.

The only dangerous situation we have been placed in while travelling Australia was on a drive from Katherine to Darwin where the two-meter high spear grass either side of the road was on fire, the flames reaching twice this again and giving off thick black smoke.  These grass fires in the far north during the dry season are often planned and are sometimes called ‘cool burns’,  this one was no ‘cool burn’.   The air was hot and acrid and burnt the throat and lungs as we breathed.

We blocked off the air vents into the car, quickly, there was a road drained pulled over to the side of the road, with its load ablaze but I could see tree man had succeeded in unhooking the cab from the blazing load. They were about to get into the cab and drive on, as I slowed down to see it they needed any help, (not that I could have done anything), they waved to me to go on ahead, so I followed their direction, and drive forward.  At that stage, I did not own a CB radio, but I know the truck driver would be using one in his cab and would know the best direction to drive to get out of danger.

It was not a big burn; we were so very relieved once we drove out of that situation. Already having ‘weak lungs’, I developed pneumonia which lasted six months as a result of the smoke and hot air inhalation and got a diagnosis via lung scan of pulmonary fibrosis, or scarred lungs and was told I needed a combined heart lung transplant. That was about six years ago and I am fully recovered without any surgery. It does make me even more aware than ever before of the dangers facing fire fighters. That was closer than I ever want to go again to driving near a fire.

Now getting back to topic, I’m asking my readers to take a look at the the Hope form the Ashes, website and consider how we can show support for the people of Toodyay, recently affected by bushfire.
 http://www.hopefromashes.com.au/


Hope

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

Emily Dickinson
 


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