For most of the morning we have been aware of a column of smoke coming from the neighbouring farm about 20km away, but we all assumed they were performing burn backs on the thorn trees to clear their land. Frekkie reports that the wind had changed and these burn backs have gotten out of control and he rapidly requires all available hands to return to the farm house. We all rush back to the truck and head straight for the house. We grab what equipment we will need and pile in all the volunteers that are within reach and race off to the next farm. Mind you, most of us don’t really know what’s going on as Frekkie has drilled into us that when he wants us to do something, we do it without question and as fast as possible (even when it comes to the simple task of opening a gate for a car to pass through).
So, there we are, about half the volunteers crammed into various trucks and a number of staff from the farm. Our truck is one of the first to arrive and we come to an area that is low density flame but spreading rapidly. We all jump out, grab spades and ‘thumpers’ (strips of black rubber attached to sticks to beat out the flames), and spread along the line of burning shrub, burying and beating out the fire as we go. Singeing arm hair and burning exposed hands and arms to intense heat. Having controlled our small area, we jump back in the truck to meet up with the others. Along the way we beat several more of these small pockets of flame into submission.
Finding the others, things are a little chaotic. They’re all doing their bit but none of those in charge have let slip how bad the situation really is and what it is exactly we are trying to achieve. It’s about midday and we have all been working against the blazing fire for several hours. It’s hot and we’re all thirsty with only minimal water available as we all just hopped on the trucks and went. Our faces are streaked with ash and dust, small rivulets of blood covering most arms and legs where the ever clawing thorn trees have left their tender scratches.
In our less than glamorous state, about 10 of the volunteers pile into the back of Frekkie’s truck. In other words, we cram ourselves into the cage built into the tray of the 4x4 used for transporting the lions about. A cage in which we cannot open from the inside.
The truck is the third in the convoy with Vickie bringing up the rear in his red Toyota with the trailer bearing the water tank and fire hose. We’re racing along the dirt track with a fence to our right and the raging bush fire spreading rapidly towards us on the left. The flames are getting closer and closer to the road but being in the cage, none of us has any control over what is to happen and we have put our whole safety into the hands of Frekkie. To say we were a little worried is a colossal understatement.
The flames are a motley swirl of intense autumn colours that are flicking menacingly towards us. A wall of heat and fire about 10m high, engulfing vegetation in the blink of an eye and leaving plumes of smoke to darken the bright azure sky. The fire is encroaching rapidly towards the line of cars and their 30 or more occupants. We are somewhat recklessly speeding along in the loose sand of the track and all vehicles bar Vickie make it past safely. We slow down and all look back at the red Toyota which is more than four car lengths behind us. Without warning, the wind picks up and hurls the flames at the road. There is still a small gap between raging inferno and track and Vickie guns it, back wheels spinning in the soft sand and fish tailing the rear of the truck and trailer. Everyone starts screaming, “Don’t do it Vickie!!”, “It’s too close!!”… “ESBEN!!!”
Wait! What?!! Esben?? Where??
What everyone else has seen but I have completely missed is the fact that Esben was clinging to the outside of Vickie’s truck… on the side facing the fire… As Vickie attempts to outrun the blaze, twice it beats down against the car, directly where Esben… had been. That’s right. One second he was there and the next, he’d disappeared behind the heat wave and a thick blanket of smoke. The screaming from the others intensifies as we watch, horror struck as Esben vanishes and Vickie’s car is engulfed by flame.
Somehow, the seconds pass achingly slow. We continue to stare, smoke and soot falling all around us, making it hard to breath. Miraculously Vickie makes it through, the rear of his truck ablaze. Having made it passed, he rushes out of the car and beats the flames out. We wait, and wait, beating on the truck for Frekkie to get back in the truck and move us out of the choking smoke. We feel so helpless. Esben has vanished and we are stuck in the cage without any choice but to sit and wait for Frekkie.
To our relief, an ash covered form emerges from the brush on our right. Stumbling slightly we all exclaim in relief, “Esben!!!”
He’d seen the flames and at the last moment jumped from the car and run behind the trailer and into the relative safety of the bush. Somehow he’d made his way through, but in the process he had severely burnt his back and arm. The skin blistering in two softball sized patches, one of which is clearly visible through his burnt shirt. He’s ushered into one of the cars and we finally move further down the road towards clearer air. We breathe it in and try and make sense of what has just happened. We bump along in the cage in silence, too stunned to say anything.
The day does not end there. Esben is sent back to the farm and with the remaining volunteers we are split in groups, each given a patch of the fire to tackle. There are six of us, including myself, who are dropped off about 5km down a side track and set the task of creating an area of burn back that will hopefully meet up with the current inferno and give it no more room to move.
We each take it in turn to collect large handfuls of dried grass, and using the grass, we carry a flame along in a line as far as possible, catching anything alight that we can, until the next person needs to take over and continues the line of fire. In this way, we covered ground fairly rapidly with our own mini inferno picking up strength behind us. With the wind in our favour it is gradually blown towards the main blaze.
Having gone as far as we can in the thickening thorn trees and waist high grass we return to the track where we are picked up again and taken over to any remaining small patches of the main fire that are still flaring up. We again get to work with our spades and ‘thumpers’ and make short work of the flames, old hands at it by now. We’re now working side by side with the bushmen that call the neighbouring farm home who seem quite impressed by the rapidity and effectiveness of our teamwork.
The last shrub is beat out and we finally look up and stretch our work-weary limbs. We’ve done it! We get a report from Frekkie that the main fire has burnt itself out against our various burn backs and the last few remaining patches of flames are being taken care of. We are giddy with relief. It’s three in the afternoon and we’ve been working non-stop for the last 5 hours, no food, all water gone. We are hot, soot covered, freed of our arm hair and very sore. We clamber back into the back of the truck (we are no longer in Frekkie’s cage) and speed our way back to the farm. We’re met half way by Vickie’s wife who has brought us bottles of water and fridge cooled apples. The sweetest and most delectable pieces of fruit I’ve ever tasted. They disappear almost as quickly as the flames had spread.
Slightly reenergised we bounce around more cheerfully in the truck till we return to the safety of the farm. Everyone is abuzz with news of the fire for the volunteers that had been unable to join us, and we were rewarded with good news about Esben and that his burns weren’t too severe.
Frekkie appears and in his magnanimity, tells us we can have the rest of the afternoon off. All three hours of it. Woo hoo!
Holy Moly!! Tessa! Have you ever considered being like a frontline journalist? Your writing is amazing - it seemed like i was there with you. I'm so glad you're ok, how are all the burns victims doing? Yeesh, does your mum read this?
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yay! a comment! yes, my dear mother does get to read this stuff. seeing as the fire happened more than a year ago, she's kinda gauranteed that I and everyone else is fine. I was just amazed that someone was able to pass these photos on to me to publish. they really are incredible.
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