Watching a news report on the Australian bush fires recently took me back a few years to my own encounter with the destructive power of fire.
I had got to know Richard when he was guiding for the Wild Trout Festival. He hails from the waters on the other side of the mountains, the Maclear area to be precise. I had never fished the area and arranged a trip to stay at his parent’s farm just outside Maclear. Richard kindly agreed to take time off to show me his hunting grounds and I was looking forward to exploring new territory with a very accomplished fly fisher and guide.
One morning Richard said that a favourite spot of his, the Tsitsana, was well worth a visit. We loaded the tackle and ourselves into my Subaru and took to the dirt roads. We reached the head of the valley above the river and I parked my vehicle on flat rocky area and we unloaded, tackled up and set off down the side of the valley. I always seem to choose rock rabbits for fishing partners or is it just because I’m getting slow? I followed at the usual Vaughan trundle.
We reached the river and started fishing downstream until we reached the confluence with another river. I decided I had had sufficient exercise and futile thrashing of the waters and had lunch. After lunch we started fishing upstream to the spot where we started. Memory does not serve me well, at least when it comes to counting my catch, but I remember it was not an auspicious day’s angling – one of those days when you tell yourself that you really didn’t need to catch anything, just being there was enough! I have had many days like that but the Tsitsana river valley was a stunning example of the North East Cape, so I had enjoyed my day thus far.
As we moved closer to our departure point, we noticed heavy smoke coming from the left bank. We reached the point where we had planned to leave the river and found we were blocked by a wall of burning grass, saplings and bushes. We stayed in the water for a while hoping the fire would burn out quickly – it didn’t, so we stood in the river mesmerised by exploding saplings and a raging grass fire.
The heat was fierce, standing in the river was cooling us down and stopping the fire’s progress. I have often wondered what might have happened if we had been caught out in open veld. The fire was travelling so fast that I doubt my ability to outrun it.
Eventually it seemed to have burnt down sufficiently for us to start climbing up the side of the valley which was still smoldering and extremely hot. The soles of my fishing boots had started to melt and my feet were getting hot. In the midst of all of this a nagging image of my Subaru as a burnt wreck kept my mind off my smoldering boots and hot feet, the vehicle had been parked in the path of the fire.
We eventually reached the top and there was my vehicle, untouched by the fire that had burnt around the flat rocky outcrop on which I had parked – thanks heavens I had decided to park where I had.
We heaved a sigh of relief, loaded the vehicle and started on the way back to the farm. How many times have I heaved that sigh of relief only to be faced with yet another and potentially worse situation. This day was one of them. It was getting dark and to our right we could see a line of fire in the distance, nowhere near us, I thought. Ten minutes later I was driving through a raging inferno on the right-hand side of the road, the fire had reached the road. It was decision time, turn back or put my foot down and hope. I felt the heat of the fire through the closed windows, the smoke was thick and I had run out of options, turning back was no longer possible.
I put my foot down, and after what seemed an age but in reality, probably a few minutes, we emerged from the smoke and flames and made our way to the farm. It was a quiet drive, my mind racing with all the events that had taken place over the past two hours.
When we arrived at the farm, I nervously started an inspection of the car, expecting to find blistered paintwork and melted rubber, but apart from a layer of ash the car was not damaged. We had not been damaged, the car had not been damaged so perhaps now was the time to heave that sigh of relief and, after a stiff whisky, I did.
As a postscript I must add that my tale is in no way attempting to compare my experience that day to the horrors of the Aussie bush fires, but it provided me with empathy for those who experience the devastating power of fire at close quarters.