Well, that was fun.
Lightning strikes! Big flash. Great noise. She, a volunteer fire fighter, wonders if she should go down to the fire hall (it has been extremely dry this year). He urges her to eat supper first. She phones the fire hall. No one there. Not much she can do by herself, so they sit down to eat.
“SooOOOoEEEEEEEEEEEEEkkk!” shrieks the pager.
She grabs radio, manages to let “Volunteer Fire Department, what is the nature of your emergency?” out in a voice that is almost tremor free.
Radio: “There’s a fire at Mile 12. Lightening strike.”
“!! Mile 12???? I’m at Mile 12!” Runs outside, “I can’t see anything”. He follows, comments that he can smell smoke but also can’t see anything. It’s raining and visibility is poor. That decides the fire hall question. Grab baby, stuff her in the carseat, and off go Mom and Baby to the fire hall while Dad and Kid futz about searching for rain gear.
Rain coats on, back outside, peering across the road. Oh, there it is, a smudge of brown smoke rolling up over the top of spruce trees, not too far away.
Back in the house, phone a neighbour. “There’s a fire across the road. Looks near your boyfriend’s property up the mountain.”
“Yes, I know. I called it in. Boyfriend has taken the jeep up to grab the chainsaw and shovels.”
“Okay. I’m going back outside. Later.”
Gears growling, a rumbling diesel motor is heard coming over the rise. A fire truck leaves the road beside the creek and picks its way through the ditch. Dad thinks “that’s nice, but the heck are they going to do? It’s a bush fire and that’s a city truck. No way it can go up that 4x4 road.”
Remembers he’s wearing shorts and Kid is bare-bottomed. Back in the house, put on pants. Will they be evacuated? What to grab? Change jars from the bedroom. Take the camper van, it’s packed for the season. Remembers she said at one time that the only thing she wants are the photos. Grab ‘em and stuff everything in a backpack. Only the loose ones and envelopes, the albums are too big. He reasons that negatives should be in the envelopes anyway. Drop backpack at back door. Kid wants to wear sandals. No time to be nice about it, shove him into his gum boots. Go outside again, kid with sandals stubbornly welded to his left fist.
The smudge has turned to a thickening column. Pick up kid and walk to the road. Boyfriend’s jeep comes out of the forest, stops and talks to firetruck. Open the passenger side jeep door and jump in.
“Did you find it?”
“Yep.”
“Can you see it from the trail?”
“Almost, it’s not far off. I was going to drop the tree but saw the firetruck and figured I’d let them handle it.” Oh, Dad thinks. That means the fire is close, not not far. A firefighter approaches far side and asks to be driven to the site. Boyfriend starts clearing out back seat.
“No, don’t bother. We’ll get out.” Hop out and let the firefighter in. They drive back into the trees.
A helicopter comes down the valley and circles the smoke column and then lands beside the creek. A man with a hardhat and a huge red pack on his back jumps out and disappears into the bushes. Kid’s eyes are large round saucers, his thought rinigng clear, “this day is turning out pretty good after all!”
Another volunteer fire fighter drives up. She has a radio. Good, they can hear what’s going on now.
“Four wheeler? yes, we have one.” Leave kid with volunteer, run back to house, find key. Yes! It starts up with a single key turn and stab of the throttle. Slap into four wheel drive and motor back to the scene. “Okay what do you need me to do?”
“It’s okay, we don’t need it.”
Oh.
Kid climbs aboard, clearly thinking this is getting better by the minute. Neighbour can be seen coming down her drive, pushing toddler in his stroller. They drive over and update neighbour.
Getting too wet. go back to house, change kid’s pants. Dad grabs real rubberised raincoat to replace waterlogged nylon one. Searches house and camper van for rainpants, to no avail. Rips open large plastic bag and stuffs Kid into it, who thinks this is much more interesting than boring old rain pants anyway. Rummaging around for the new camera, Dad remembers that Mom took it to the fire hall, a wry smile crosses his face. Home is where that action is today. Can’t find old one. No matter, it’s too wet out anyway. Jump back on four wheeler and return to the hubub.
Long lengths of firehose are coming off the fire truck and worming their way into the trees. A slickered neighbour can be seen wandering up the road to see what is going on. Curiously stops a couple of hundred metres away. Dad briefly wonders why s/he doesn’t come any closer.
Red 4x4 crew cab Fire Management truck pulls up. Six men in coveralls and hard hats boil out, grabbing axes, hoses and a chainsaw and melt into the willows. Kid is so entranced, there is no room for thought, only wide-eyed absorption. Dad prys sandals from clutching fingers and places them under the front carry latch. There is no give to the little digits, but no complaint either.
Drive over to volunteer-with-radio to find out current status. There is only a single tree burning. The tree is down. And out.
Men begin to trickle out of the brush, dragging long hoses behind them. A Fire Management fellow (re)educates the volunteers how to drain and roll hoses “melon style". Dad and kid edge their way around the fire truck and ride up the trail, peering through the trees.
“…somebody please radio that stupid ****** and tell him, AGAIN, that yes the fire is out!”, comes the exasperated voice of a fire fighter rolling hose over the sqawk of a squelching radio.
Dad jumps off the four wheeler and starts dragging hoses. Kid is quite content to remain on the bike, even as Dad disappears into the trees. Eyes still wide. Still leaving no room for thinking.
A fire fighter lifts kid up, slaps a bright yellow helmet and visor on him and takes him to sit in the rescue truck for a moment with the flashing cherry lights. Damn, sure would be nice to have the camera now.
Dad and son back on the four wheeler, manouver for a better position to watch the chopper take off. The Fire Management truck and crew leave. The fire truck leaves. Just a few people left milling about the single remaining vehicle. Dad turns four wheeler about, points the nose towards home. Kid howls in protest. There are still people here! Obviously this thing is not finished. A comprimise is struck and they drive home the long way.
The Wildfire bulletin from the next day which describes this event: “XY#20, 0.01 hectares. Fire was actioned by the VFD and Whitehorse fire crew and was declared out today. The cause of the fire was lightning.” Somehow, that just doesn’t capture it.
