Special SPIRAL Newsletter Feb 2009

*Systemic - Participatory - Inquiry - Research - Action - Learning*
SPIRAL — The Victorian Statewide Action Research Network
http://www.spiral-victoria.net/

Dear SPIRAL and ARIA members,

Our member Jill Sanguinetti has written this riveting account of her and partner David’s survival through the fire-storm that hit their house at Granton near Narthbethong a short distance from Marysville last Saturday.  It will be published in the Australian Weekend Magazine in the coming week or so. — Ed.

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Marysville Swimming Pool and the Cloud of Doom

Deep down, I knew that my project of creating a rain forest garden on our two acre block at Granton, six kilometres from Marysville, was a fantasy. I supported The Greens, had read Climate Code Red, and railed against the wilful refusal of governments on both sides to save forests or seriously reduce Australia’s carbon emissions. I also believed that if we planted and tended our little patch of ground we could help to conserve the forest and wildlife in the area whilst enjoying our own bush paradise. 

I had always said that I would not be at Granton on days of high fire danger or risk dying to save the house but on the day, my rain forest planting project weakened that resolve: the tree ferns, manna gums, blackwoods and other plants that we had put in last autumn needed to be watered regularly throughout the hot weather to keep them alive. So our plan was to drive up late on Friday afternoon, water the trees and vegetable gardens and come back early Saturday morning before the heat set in. But Saturday morning turned out to be mild and the air was still; the mud brick house was relatively cool and so we decided to stay on instead of sweltering in Melbourne. (I even reasoned that it would save us using the air conditioner.)

We were following the progress of the Bunyip Ridge and East Kilmore fires, and I felt safe in the knowledge that they were far away. Besides, with the radio on all day and regular visits to the CFA and DSE websites, we would have plenty of warning if there was a bush fire in the vicinity. Nevertheless, Dave tested the fire hose and emergency petrol pump that was connected to the rainwater tank and I re-read the CFA instructions for defending homes in a bushfire, just in case.

By 4 o’clock in was getting hotter so I decided on a swim in the Marysville swimming pool, 10 minutes away. The water was deliciously cool as I swam laps and checked out children playing with inflatable plastic animals and mothers cooling off their babies. The sky darkened momentarily. The cool change at last! Glancing up, I saw that instead of clouds, the sun was obscured by a massive column of orange and grey smoke billowing upwards and cascading down over itself, just to the north of the town.

The image that burns in my brain is that of the thirty or so bathers relaxing around the pool, seemingly oblivious to the mountain of down-pouring smoke that filled half the sky. Nobody was looking up or commenting and so I too, despite a growing unease, decided that the smoke must be somehow within the realms of normal and nothing to worry too much about. But I left the water quickly, dressed and stopped off at the general store to buy the paper and a few groceries before driving home. Exchanged the normal pleasantries with the ladies in the shop and stopped off at the garage to buy some petrol for the fire pump. The garage should have been open until 5 pm, but was inexplicably closed. Slighted irritated, I checked my watch - 4.30 exactly - and drove home. That was an hour before the holocaust broke.

Why did Dave and I each continue to deny the evidence of our senses until the very last? Dave had been watching the smoke, but he too, given the lack of any warning on the CFA and DSE websites, thought it must be the smoke from far away fires. Incredibly (in retrospect) I decided to take Larry the dog down for a swim in the Acheron River, about 400 metres away.  At 4.45 Larry and I were splashing around in the river. Then I knew. A hot wind was blowing branches and bits of bark horizontally through the trees. I heard a dull roaring noise and smelt fire. Back into the car, and I saw the flames that had already crossed the Marysville-Granton Road from the north and trees burning 200 metres away from the house. Dave was in his boiler suit squirting the house with the fire hose. The moment we had mentally rehearsed for years had arrived and it was already too late to flee.

I hosed down the house and eaves while the fire burned towards us from the north through gum trees and blackberry thickets, relatively slowly at first. A black possum sauntered up to me and strolled onto our veranda, as if to say that fear of humans is a thing of the past and we sentient beings need to stick together in times of crisis. It took shelter in the kiwi fruit vines around the house and we heard it rustling there throughout the night. 

I had time to take Larry down to our neighbour Gillian’s place, locked him into her laundry and go back again with our computers and wallets. She had roof sprinklers and two visiting friends to help her defend her home which I thought would be safer than ours. Being a coward I initially stayed with them but ultimately could not leave Dave to defend our place on his own and so threaded my way through the smoke and trees to be with him. Later, a small grey dog came hobbling out of the burning grass with burnt paws and a leash still attached to his collar. I managed to get him inside and gave him some food and water, but an hour later he ran out of the door and disappeared back into the smoke. 

The fire gathered pace as it raced up the hill towards neighbouring Staplecross Farm and the forest beyond.  A westerly breeze sprang up and seemed to fan the flames away from the house. But the trees and scrub to the east of our driveway were the main danger point as they grew right up to the caravan and carport. Dave held back the fire there along a twenty metre strip but meanwhile the fire spread to the crown land forest adjoining our block fifty metres to the south. Soon my beloved patch of forest succumbed to the flames, and the wood shed, 20 metres from the house, became a raging inferno. Then the fire came back towards the house from the south and the entire garden was engulfed.

Within a few minutes, with the wind gusting in all directions, we were surrounded by fire. Twenty-five metres to the west of the house, our shed containing spare building materials, lawnmowers, tools and personal archives was ablaze; 20 metres to the north there was a wall of fire as our neighbour’s wood shed went up. By this time it was dark but the house was illuminated by the fires on all sides. Dave continued to hose back the encroaching flames whilst I kept an eye on spot fires and dashed out of the house with buckets of water filled from the bath to put out small fires that threatened the doors, wood decking and eaves.

Good fortune stayed with us and despite the trauma I never felt our lives were in danger. The thick mud brick walls protected us from radiant heat and kiwi fruit vines along the northern and eastern sides of the house gave added protection. There were some bad moments. Twice the pump broke down and Dave had to go down in the dark and smoke to where the pump was to fix a valve that had blown out in the heat. The pump stopped a second time when it ran out of petrol and he went off through the smoke to borrow petrol from Steve next door, desperately fighting his own battle with the fire, to get the pump going again. He forgot to drink, and at one point came in dehydrated, fainted into the chair then drank two litres of water before recovering and going out again. That was about the time when I started to realise that the smoke inside the house was nearly as thick as the smoke outside, and may soon be unbreathable.  

By 10 o’clock the worst was over and it seemed we would be OK. Andy, a CFA member who was defending his own home, came over to check on us.  “We’re fine”, we said. “No you’re not, your eaves are on fire”. We hadn’t noticed that a corner of eaves and the roof was alight.  At this point the hose had stopped working, so Andy helped us to chop out the burning wood and we doused the smouldering rafters by throwing up saucepans full of water from a bucket.

Rod, another CFA member, came to check on us, bringing some donated CFA emergency rations – a solo donut in a plastic box. He too had saved his house, so that meant that there were six houses altogether that we knew of that had been saved. Nearly every other house in Granton was razed to the ground. We did not know then whether they were empty at the time. 

We continued to put out spot fires and douse burning logs until around midnight, when the defenders of the four closest homes drifted together for a kind of grim celebration of survival mingled with shock and disbelief. That was when we heard that Marysville was gone.

The gas bottles were still working so we made tea and sat on the back veranda watching the shed fire slowly die down, blackened tree skeletons silhouetted against piles of glowing red embers and the flames licking around charred trunks. About every three minutes there was a crash and shower of sparks as trees and branch fell in what remained of the forest The moon was bright pink. Our tallest tree, a forty metre peppermint gum , was burning on the inside and sending out plumes of red sparks from three different tree hollows, one far up near the top, like little fumeroles in the sides of an active volcano. We sat for an hour holding hands without speaking. It was an incredibly beautiful, even peaceful sight; the denouement of the inferno. The wind stilled and there were no mosquitoes.

A few hours of sleep brought some mental relief until first light revealed the full horror of forests ravaged as far as the eye could see and beyond our group of four homes, other neighbours’ houses reduced to rubble. Where did all the birds go? 

By three in the afternoon the track to the Marysville Granton was cleared of fallen trees and there was little more we could do. We knew our families and friends would be worried and there was of course no telephonic contact. Despite radio news saying that the Maroondah Highway was closed, we packed Larry into the car along with the little stray dog with the burnt paws (who we later found cowering in the bedroom) and headed home.  

Compared to many, we were lucky. To the north, our block abutted an open area with few trees. The grass fire passed through there early and stopped at the fence a few metres from the house, so we could have always run onto the blackened ground to safety if we had to. 

Neither of us realised what our families and friends were going through in the eight hours between learning about the razing of Marysville and our phone call from Healesville. Amongst the debris of flash backs, thoughts and feelings flying around in my mind is how unnecessary it was for us to be at our weekend get-away in the first place. The decision to stay on Saturday was a mistake that may have cost us our lives and devastated our loved ones. 

I’m grateful to the CFA for the training they provided last summer in how to defend our house, and especially grateful to our neighbours who several times left their own threatened homes to make sure we were all right then cleared the road so we could get out the next day. The preparations we had made no doubt saved us and our house, but many others who had made the same preparations lost their houses and in some cases their lives.

I’m haunted by the scene at the swimming pool: people swimming, chattering and playing games whilst the cloud of doom loomed massively before their very eyes. But I, also, was in denial.

For how much longer will we look away from the other cascading cloud of doom? Global warming is staring us in the face. Rising CO2 concentrations are already causing extreme weather events and triggering chain reactions that will bring about an environmental and human apocalypse if we don’t take determined action now.  The government’s target of a 5% reduction is absurd. Logging in what remains of our native forests must stop now.

Perhaps it is time to for me to open my eyes, give up my forest garden project and put my remaining time and energy into doing something more useful.

Jill Sanguinetti

February 9, 2009

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Co-convenors 2009 TBA
Newsletter editor: Yoland Wadsworth
Website: Barbara Bok
c/o SPIRAL network auspice is the
Action Research Issues Association (ARIA)
Inc. # A0016248Z Reg. c/o:
2 Minona Ave, Hawthorn, Vic 3122
aria.inc[at]gmail[dot]com

http://www.spiral-victoria.net/

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