Enter the Dragon

The awakening

"That's the best you've ridden so far", says my coach as we finish off a horse riding lesson. I smile. I pack up the car, put the horse on the float, turn the radio on, and commence the 50 minute drive home. Mainly up hill.

"The Bunyip Ridge fire is likely to impact on communities in Labertouche and Jindivick. Residents in those areas need to be on alert for flying embers. If you're going to leave, leave early ..." the radio blares. Jindivick! Far out, that's just next door to our farm! I choke on my sandwich. "... Conditions are expected to be worse than Ash Wednesday, and possibly worse than Black Friday ..." Black Friday?! Our whole region went up in smoke on Black Friday, the entire Olsen family perished.

The phone rings. "You may want to get some more dragon tea on your way home," says my husband. We're going to need more than dragon tea today, I think to myself as I glance at the mere whisp of smoke that is the Bunyip Ridge fire. The phone rings. It's my girlfriend Christine who agists her horse at the farm. She wants to know if we're ok with the fire. "Well, not exactly. Can someone put it out please?"

The car loses power up a hill. Strange. I glance at the console. Oh my! The temperature is right up. Almost on the red. I check outside temperature. 41C. Ouch! It's only 11am! I turn the air conditioning off and we limp home. The radio blasts me "leave early". I can't move my horses. I can't tow one, and I need to move six! I can't leave until my horses are at least in the "safest" paddock. And which one is that? Why isn't someone offering a horse truck? Why isn't someone offering a refuge for horses?

I unpack the car, and glance west. The whisp of smoke has been replaced by a massive, pulsating, mushroom cloud. I take my most expensive saddles and bridles and put them in the house, the car in the garage. Inside, the house is nice and cool, the air conditioning blasting, Sabina playing with her trains, Pete studying maps.

"I don't think it will cross the Princess freeway", Pete looks up, his finger firmly on the map. "Then the wind will change, and the fire will go here." His finger glides over Jindivick, Neerim South, Neerim Junction, but misses Neerim East. "We will be fine", he concludes. I glance at the ferocity of the north westerly and wonder how much of a "PeBo Epic" we're in for this time.

We eat lunch in some sort of a blur, while listening to the radio.

"The fire has just jumped the Princess Freeway and is heading towards Drouin." the radio interrupts "Residents are advised to implement their fire plan." Pete and I glance at each other, then at the map. Pete redraws the fire path with his finger. It stops on Neerim East. We dart outside.

Fire plan

Implement fire plan. Right. Now what was it? Where is the piece of paper that tells us exactly what to do? There isn't one.

Fill buckets with water. But our tank is low. If we don't get to use the water, what a waste! Indecision. Too late to get the horses out. Too late to leave. Fill buckets with water. Fill the bath with water. Fill Sabina's wading shell with water. Get all the horse towels, and all the woollen horse blankets. We gaze at the shed, full of this year's hay. "Do you agree that the shed is on its own?" Pete asks. I nod.

Where to put the horses. What's good? Small paddock, or big paddock? We look at the lenght of grass in the paddocks, and move them into the small dam paddock. We turn the electric fence off.

One car is in the garage. Where to put the other? On the driveway, out of the way, away from the house. Done.

Shutters. Up or down? Once we lose power, we won't be able to change our minds. We choose four doors as fire escapes. Every other window is under full shutdown. The house goes dark.

Waiting for the Dragon

The huge plume of smoke in the west builds and builds. Our stomachs churn. The adrenaline pumps. Sabina wants us to play a game with her. She becomes the only normality in the midst of internal chaos and the impeding danger.

John Fayne comes on the radio. Our regular weekday presenter for whom we have so much respect. We cheer. All normal programs have stopped, and the radio continually repeats fire updates, one region after another. Victoria burns.

We sift through our box of fire fighting clothes. It's a nice try, but it's not as complete as it should be. I run to the little shed to get gloves. On the way I do something distinctively stupid. It doesn't matter what it is. But I realise that my mind is starting to walk a very fine line between sanity and insanity. My heart beats fast, my stomach churns.

Pete walks past the little shed with Sabina. "Come on", he says "lets have a final look at the smoke". I follow. The air has turned a light orange colour now, and burnt leaves are flying in on the north-westerly. We are standing on the edge of the bonfire paddock, in our shorts and t-shirts, taking photos. Somewhere behind the ridge on the western horizon, rages a dragon.

Back at the house we change into our fire fighting overalls. We exchange sms's with friends. Sabina plays, Pete goes to the toilet, I sit on the bed and meditate. I feel the intense power of the fire, it's destructive uncontrolled energy, it's rage. Then a calmness - my mother praying for us. I refocus on the situation, and on the job ahead. "Mama, come and play with me." I open my eyes, and follow Sabina into the play room. Sabina sees what is happening, yet somehow, she seems oblivious to the danger. Playing with her brings me peace.

Should I make dinner? Is there a point? Will we have time to eat it? I put some pasta and beans on the boil.

The Westerly

The Westerly comes and the sky goes blood red. A heart wrenching wail pierces the air as 12 black cockatoos suddenly emerge from a nearby tree. Most of them cannot hold their own against the strenght of this wind, and are swept away towards the state forest. One cockatoo just manages to hover for a few seconds, then he too, is gone.

"Listeners are advised that our transmitter on Mt Tassie may be affected by the fire. Please switch to 828 AM", John Fayne advises on the radio.

Outside it goes black. Darker than on a full moon night. A friend calls offering help. Then, bang, the power goes. Blackness. Silence. Sabina grips my leg in panic. "Mama, can you put the light on?". I turn my torch on. Pete runs into another room. "I think the power surge blew the backup radio", he comes back busily winding up the other backup radio. Within seconds we're listening to John Fayne on 828 AM.

I give Sabina her torch, yet another wind-up wonder. I curse it under my breath. A couple of dolphin torches would be really good right now.

Pete goes out on ember patrol. No words can describe the ferocity of the wind.

"Mama, please put the light on". Sabina refuses to let go of my leg. I explain to her about electricity and power, and power lines. "Mama, make the elctricity come back on RIGHT NOW!", insist Sabina. I call the power company. After 30 seconds on hold I hang up. I text my sister in-law with the numbers, asking her to let the power compnay know we've lost power. "But when will the elcricity come back Mama?", Sabina feels somewhat better. "It might come back on in the morning".

Sabina's anger and frustration reminds me that she needs to eat dinner. I sit her bowl of pasta and bolognese sauce in the saucepan with pasta. The hot plate is off, but the water is still hot. The food heats up. I present a spoon to Sabina. "Mama, I don't want to eat". Tears well in her eyes. Most likely from hunger. "Sabina. I've managed to get your food warm. We don't have power. If it goes cold I have no way of heating it up again. There is a lot of danger right now, and it's very important that you eat your food while it's warm. Please eat sweetness. I need you to eat, and I need you to eat right now", I insist. She opens her mouth and accepts the spoon. Another conversation about electricity and power follows. But she eats.

It gets a little bit lighter outside. Just enough to show us just how much the wind rages. We hear its full force as Pete returns from his patrol. I serve luke warm pasta and beans, with cold meat for dinner. We consume in silence. Then Pete is off again.

Sabina and I sit by gas lamp and candlelight, cuting out shapes from an activity book. "Our transmitter on Mt Tassie has been destroyed by fire", John Fayne announces on the radio. "Oh, my ... Kinglake. Kinglake is burning. Get out! Kinglake is going up in smoke! Kinglake! Kinglake! Kinglake!" It rings mercilessly in my ears.

Pete returns from patrol. Still no live embers. He goes out again.

I bath Sabina in cold water. More explanations about power. She lies in bed and I read her a story. "Mama, put that light on." "I can't, there is no power." "But, when will the power come back?", she quizzes. "Hopefully, in the morning". "In the morning. The power will come back, and we'll be alright", she says cheerfully. "Maybe it will be back, but maybe not", I realign her expectations. She lies quietly in bed by torchlight, and falls asleep.

The cool change

The cool change comes through. The wind dies down. The smoke lifts.

I look at Pete. His face is covered with ash, except where his goggles were. Thank God for the goggles.

We wander outside and see the fire burning on the hills just beyond Main Neerim Rd. John Fayne signs off, and another announcer takes over. We see an emergency vehicle drive along Neerim East Rd. It stops, and the lights keep blinking in the same spot for about half an hour. Then it leaves. Another half an hour later a cavalcade of 2 or 3 police cars, and at least 5 fire engines drive North towards Noojee. Then many cars drive along Neerim East Rd, heading South. We deduce that Main Neerim Rd is closed. And possibly people are evacuating from Nayook, Neerim Junction and Noojee.

The night

The power comes back on. We shower and go to bed.

Two or three hours later, I wake Pete up and he goes on patrol. While on patrol he listens to the radio for updates. "I think I heard wrong", he says when he returns. "What I think I heard, was that only one house is left standing in Marysville", his voice falters. "But, I think I heard wrong".

At 6am I wake up and do my patrol. I turn the radio on. "We have an unconfirmed report", the radio blares "that only one house is left standing in Marysville. But this report is not confirmed, we are waiting to confirm ...". I slump into a chair outside, and weep ...