BUSH FIRE

The fire has now burnt approximately 1200 ha of forest in the Moreton National Park, around eight kilometres east in Wingello.
Firefighters have been using infrared equipment to identify pockets of fire, which are then attacked by ground crews and waterbombing aircraft.
Crews have also been blacking out along the perimeter of the fire, to help strengthen containment lines in case conditions deteriorate.
While no property is under threat, residents in surrounding areas should ensure their homes are fully prepared, in the event that severe weather causes the fire to break containment lines.
12.01.09 20:51

That is last night's bulletin on the fire which has preoccupied us for the last nine days.

The fire was started in the National Park, in very inaccessible terrain, late on Sunday the 3rd, by an evening thunderstorm that brought black clouds, ten drops of rain, and sparked the tinder. 48 hours later it was scheduled Section 44, whereby the Commissioner of the Rural Fire Service takes charge and the full resources of the State kick in.

Since then, and perhaps aided by it being the only current serious NSW fire, the response has been relentless. The day skies are full of aircraft, fixed wing, large and smaller helicopters, both surveillance and water carriers.
















(photos Rural Fire Service)















There would be perhaps one every 10 to 15 minutes, and that is just over here; they are striking at this from several water sources. A trip to town means seeing one or two control vehicles on the roads, the local newsagent has an update in the window, with maps and photos, the Rural Fire Service website is updated, clearly and succinctly, at least twice a day. During the worst of it, those four days last week when it was scorching and things looked pretty grim, there were bulletins dropped at each front gate each evening.

We are a few kilometres north of this fire which has steadily burnt east, not unexpectedly as it is the westerlies which are the real nasties, coming off the hot inland and bringing higher temperatures and lower humidity. Incongruously, the last few days have been cool and we even had a thunder storm two nights ago with a sudden drop of 16 mm rain. This, I gather, was not widespread and was patchy over the fire.

Today things sound better, and it is the sound that's the clue. The skies have throbbed till dusk for the last week. This morning there were a few helicopters flying over, and I only saw one water-bomber.














(yesterday evening overhead RFS helicopter)



It has been quiet for the last few hours.

I've been through all this before, but now it looks like I will make it to Butterfly after all. If you need to know when there'll be a fire around here, just check my diary under Opera / Sydney.

SIRENS AT NIGHT

It was nearly midnight. I was deep in Julian Barnes "Nothing to be Frightened of" and writing words like 'uxorious' and 'shriving' in an old exercise book.

The house was still wide open, the air still. The sound of a siren took a while to jerk me to remember that I wasn't hearing what you always hear in inner Sydney, but I was hearing something I had never before heard down here, on the edge of the National Park, way down an unsealed bush road. Someone must be...the phone rang...it was H, from the nearest property. Her husband C has been called out with the reserves, they could see it, could I see it? The men can't even find their way in and that's why they were trying down our road to a fire-trail which slashes through our place. She'd stay in touch; C would let us know.

Yes, I saw it and was hypnotised for I don't know how long. Bush Fire. It was orange yellow and organic and no more than a kilometre across the gully, probably around our boundary, wherever that is, I don't know.

Everything had been rehearsed and the routine swung in. Fire-pump, water straight from the dam, big fat yellow hoses, roof sprinklers, baths filling, towels and blankets, dogs (where's that bloody young dog, there's ducks on the dam, she must be there) and now K is driving down. H is on the phone again, yes I know it is getting bigger, much bigger, yellow, can't really see smoke at night, it has to climb one small ridge then it is in the house gully...

All you can do is look at it and be thankful that the night was cool with little air movement and the ground still moist from recent rain. The trucks and the men must be there, I can see blue and red flashing lights. What about all the little animals? K is here now. We watch the front widening, actually moving down the gully, which at least is self-limiting. It is bigger, but seems to be moving away.

Now it is morning. There's smoke and two helicopters. One helicopter has a water bag on a very long rope and it seems that it does careful spot drops, the rope length letting him stay high about the draft. The other makes lower sweeping runs, spewing the water in giant yawning vomits. They'd be getting the water from the big dam on the other side of the town road, where they got it some years ago when two fire-fighters perished when a back-burn turned on them when the winds changed.

I rang next door and to my embarrassment woke C who had worked on the ground all night and had only been home since 6.30. I was worried about leaving and going up to the city, which sounded foolish and self-indulgent under the circumstances. I couldn't tell him it was Pinchgut. Off you go and don't you worry, it's all under control, he reassured, not a hint of tiredness in his voice.

The rural fire service, volunteers, people who live in the bush. It gets to you, you know.