HOW DO WE THANK YOU?
21 FEBRUARY 2009 (IN OZ)
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All Photos courtesy Sue Forrester, OZ
Sue Forrester writes:
It's an odd feeling that, on this Saturday afternoon as I finally sit at the computer to try and compose a note to the Airedale lists, I look at the clock on my desk and realise it is precisely 14 days ago to the very minute (4:15 p.m.) that the phone rang.
"There's a massive fire just started down on the highway at Dixons Creek, and it's heading this way fast."
The caller was our neighbour a kilometer away, and the news was what we'd been dreading all day.
Saturday, 7 February 2009 had been forecast as Australia's worst ever day of high temperatures: 46.5 degrees C, 115 F. Those of us who've lived in the bush a long time knew all too well that this foretold a day of 'when, not if' wild fires would start. All week it had been horrendous, impossibly hot, and on the Friday night we had a very real sense of dread as we went to bed and tried to get some sleep.
As the Saturday morning drew on towards midday, I asked Bill to check the thermometer, curious to know the comparison between inside the house and out. 29C degrees inside, 52C degrees outside. Or a staggering 125 F. I have to say it was fearful, absolutely fearful. It felt like the world was about to explode, only we didn't know where it would strike first.
At four o'clock, the sky to the west (where Melbourne lies) was a sickly dense ominous orange-black, a firestorm in the making.
We'd completed all possible preparations for our fire plan. We have always chosen to stay and defend our home. Because of the impossibility of moving the four Airedales to safety anywhere near at hand, our plan included them staying (in the bathroom, the coolest and possibly safest room in the house.)
Dogs coping on Black Saturday
Already dressed in our FireGuard clothing, overalls, masks, goggles, gloves, hats & boots, we activated our plan instantly, including mandatory phone calls up the line to neighbours. By the time I'd completed my four calls, I could see the flames barreling down the hill to our creek and the trees begin to explode as fire raced towards Wombat Bend.
Direction the fire front came from
The next 16 hours were a nightmare. I have never been so frightened. You don't get a lot of practice at these things. I remember hauling my massive hose and directing vast jets of water up against the walls of the house & the cottage, while Bill directed his even larger hose against the flank of the fire as it tore towards us. The pump at the edge of the billabong was working steadily & surely to supply the hoses, our only lifeline. Both of us moved back & forth to keep as much area as possible wet; as it grew darker the flames grew brighter, and by then we had fire on three fronts to contend with. Not only was the creek along our southwest boundary fully alight and raging as each tree burst into flame, but the paddocks to the south & east were also fiercely racing ahead of the wind straight towards us.
Fires still burning over a week later
Things I don't remember include how hot it was, or must have been. Covered from head to foot, we were both extremely aware of radiant heat. It can kill you in seconds. Beating out flames with wet sacks, watching all the while for new outbreaks as flames tore into unburnt areas, fearful that at any moment the trees closer to the house would catch from the others already shooting flames & sparks & embers in all directions - it went on all night, hour after hour.
Fires still burning over a week later
About 5 a.m. on Sunday, completely exhausted, Bill snatched an hour or so nap. I couldn't sleep, prowling around the cottage & the house looking for signs of smouldering fuel; as the sky began to lighten in the thick smoky air, it seemed impossible that we had survived.
Volunteer firefighters still fighting flareups a week later
Volunteer firefighters still fighting flareups a week later
I sat exhausted on the veranda of the cottage, facing down towards the devastation of the night, trees & logs & fence posts still burning all around us; shaken to the core, numb with fear, my mind reeling with the exertion of 16 hours straight fighting without a break.
Fire damage around the wombat gully
There's a lot more I could tell you, but it doesn't matter now.
We did survive, and so many did not. You've seen the images on television screens all around the world. I can't bear to look at many of them yet. Perhaps never.
Fire damage around the wombat gully
Thank you with all our hearts for the avalanche of emails which, in very large part due to Jane Walker's continued support, have sustained us with your words of love & encouragement. In due course I hope to write to each & every person, but for now please accept this as our personal note of gratitude. It comes from our core and with our love.
Fire damage around the wombat gully
The Airedales, too, send their gratitude for the Airezen that kept them safe. I am sure it did. I have never seen four such completely GOOD dogs - no fuss, no frantic behaviour, just calm (under the circumstances), sensible trust that we would look after them - even though it was barely possible for either of us to spare more than a brief few seconds dash into the house to check on them every couple of hours.
Fire damage around the wombat gully
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Additionally and with tears, please also accept our thanks for the AireFunds which Kirk Nims, way up there in Michigan, instructed me to find in my PayPal account last week. He phoned twice to make sure I understood that it has come from all of you with messages of love & trust. It will be used to support our desperately-injured wildlife in countless ways and our gratitude & appreciation is profound. |
Fire damage around
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Some of you will remember Little Forrest Wombat's story of rescue and survival in 2005 [which can be read HERE]. You will be happy to know that the wombat I call Little Forrest's Auntie has survived this horrific event, and I photographed her 48 hours after the fire had passed, sitting outside her burrow amid the ashes of what once was her creekside home.
Wombat out and about in the wombat gully
And as ever, thank you to our dear friend Dan Joyce who has not only provided many of the photographs & story, but has pitched in both last weekend & today to help with the massive task of clearing the debris which surrounds Wombat Bend.
Wombat out and about in the wombat gully
The Airedale world is a truly extraordinary community, we all know that. There is no other like it, we know that, too. 'Thank you' is not an adequate paire of words to express even remotely what Bill & I feel for all your support - but I hope you know that you've lifted us up with a wind beneath our wings that will sustain us forever.
Sue & Bill
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CONTINUE WITH WOMBAT BEND TODAY HERE