This is the second post in a series on the bushfire. For a linear read, start with the first post here.

While there had been fires surrounding the region for months, Namadgi National Park and the Bumbalong Valley were somehow ok. And then a Defence helicopter landed in the Orroral Valley about 30km north west of us. It was 27 January 2020. The landing lights ignited dry grass and sparked the Orroral Valley fire.

After that, sleep was hard to come by. When it came it was intermittent and gave way to foggy thoughts questioning whether there really was an unstoppable bushfire bearing down upon us. Which is cruel, because sleep is just one of the finite resources required for the planning, preparation and hard physical labour necessary to get a sense that maybe, if you can work a bit harder, then maybe you’ll have a chance.

The Adaminaby Complex fire had been moving in our direction under bad conditions a couple of times, so we’d had a few dry runs preparing for the worst through January. We had packed our cars with most of the important stuff and pointed them to relative safety. We had conversations with our families about our plan to stay and defend. I asked C to stay with her family, she refused outright and after some explanation had the support of her family. I was relieved. My mum Annie said something like, ‘I know you will have it under control, it sounds like you have a plan and you’re well prepared’. That support was important, but I knew she was concerned.

With a few practice runs under our belts we were in familiar territory when we started to implement final preparations. This happened mostly alongside our normal Jobs, where I was implementing an organisational bushfire response plan and C was running front of house services and preparing for a job interview on Friday 31 January.

By the Friday of C’s interview the fire was only 15km away and the fire spread prediction map had Bumbalong in the middle of a flaming shit sandwich. I took the Friday off to run sprinklers, check pumps, keep my fingers crossed for C and finalise the plan .

A plan that would involve four people rather than two because early on Friday morning friends from Canberra Charles and Stan messaged to say they were coming out to give us a hand. They said they were coming out, leaving their families, to help us fight a bushfire.

Charles is a husband, father, international trade lawyer, accomplished cyclist and trained ACT RFS volunteer. A cultured, knowledgeable and burly man. Stan is a husband, father, qualified welder and fabricator, bike mechanic, former mariner of the high seas, adventure cyclist and bushwalker. Stan understands how to get things done and probably also knows a few other people that do it too. I’ve recreationally been to some dark and faraway places with Stan, riding and bushwalking, and we’ve always come back with a smile or at the very least a really good story.

These men had assessed the fire spread prediction map, they’d looked at the weather forecast and they knew there was a good chance we wouldn’t get through unscathed. On the morning of Saturday 1 February 2020 Charles and Stan got into their gear, said goodbye to their families and drove the hour south to Bumbalong.

When I reflect on what happened, the actions of these two stand out. It’s real courage and mateship. I have an overwhelming sense of gratitude for what they did on the day and since.

If you’re wondering, C did get the job. After she got home from the interview on Friday we discussed how we hadn’t yet officially named our place. We thought we should probably do that, before it burnt down. So we dubbed it Rollick Farm, because it’s supposed to be fun and it’s not a farm.

We thought about writing ‘Rollick Farm’ in texta on the gate to make it dodgily official but had other more pressing things to do. As it turned out, 24 hours later we wouldn’t have a front gate anyway.

Notebook

Grader

Fires are near me

Flaming shit sandwich

Here’s the next post: 2020 Bushfire Story 03: The Day