This post is part of a series from my time in Arnhem Land. Previous Post: “I Was The Most Isolated Person In Australia | Arnhem Land”
Australians are no stranger to the powerful wrath of fire. With heats soaring and lands drying, bush fires occur regularly and they consume everything within it’s path. Not all fires are a result of nature though. Arsonists commonly take some sick pride in starting fires, knowing full well the effects. Then lying in the middle are burn backs. Fires which are started with full planning, to burn back land in order for new sprouts to grow and protect that land from future fir damage.
With permission from the Aboriginals, Simon burns back this plot of land maybe once every 3-4 years whenever he enters for a bush hunt. Simon has lived in the real bush his whole life. He knows how fire spreads and he understands the unpredictability of it all.
We were only a few hours from camp, my legs were cramping and Simon was battling through the bush like a champ. He started to lean out every so often with a lighter. Basing it low in the high grass before taking off to the crackling sound of the flames. This was so strange. The more we lit and drove, the louder the crackling sound. I would look back to the sight of black smoke chasing us. Screw roller coasters, this right here got my heart racing. Not in the good way though. This was very real and very dangerous.
This response would be intensified in a heart beat, the moment we drove straight over a piece of iron wood.
BANG.
Psshhhhhhooooooo…
Our tyres were no match for the worlds hardest wood as it sunk straight through the rubber and left us stranded.
I look back. I can hear the crackles but I see no fire. OK. We have time.
I leap from the back of the jeep and follow the sound. I see flashes of orange and red low within the grass around 100m from the jeep. We jump back in and drive it to the rim, up and over an embankment. We couldn’t take it much further without completely screwing the wheel rim.
I was put on watch as the boys got to work on changing the tyre. 100m, that’s OK.
My thoughts at this moment were not to grab my camera. My thoughts laid with keeping my eyes on those flames.
90 metres. Fine.
I look back, they are struggling to get the spare type out from under the quad bike. Damn it.
My heart was coming through my rib cage at each beat. The sound was deafening as the flames consumed everything in it’s path. The wind was heading away. I started to relax slightly. Only very slightly. We might actually be OK.
In that instant, the wind hit my face with a gust and the red flames shot high into the sky. Engulfing the trees in a spectacular gulp of heat. The long grass in front of me was being devoured at a quicker rate. Tree after tree to my left were being taken. The flames glowed brighter and I could feel the heat radiating towards us.
HURRY UP!
If I thought 90 metres was uncomfortably close, then I had no idea how 50 metres would feel. My heart was pounding. It’s OK. Simon would not let us die. I trusted him. Come on Simon!
I finally get the signal to jump back in the jeep.
And breath.
Once at camp we listened to the fire crackling all around us. Simon wouldn’t sleep much tonight. He had to listen to how close the fire was getting. Patches of sky around us glowed purple showing us the location of the fires.
I dreamt of fire that night. Engulfing my sleeping bag and burning around my neck.
I woke with a start. The cold dampness of the morning dew was reassuring.
Simon tells me later that day that the fire burnt out only 800 metres from our camp. A contrasting black line lay just out of our site. The morning dew must have got to it just in time. Thank you mother nature. Damn. Never again.
Next Post: “The Time I bathed with Crocodiles | Arnhem Land“
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