Sunday was a very hot and windy day, and fires broke out all over the state here in Victoria. Homes were burnt down, big country properties were destroyed, and much acreage was incinerated. One of the outbreaks was between my place and the Arvo Job, but I didn’t realise the trains weren’t running as per usual until I arrived at the station and heard the announcement, and by then, well, if I’ve managed to get myself out the door and am on my way, I do believe in finishing my journeys. That's how adventures happen. And so it was. We travelled halfway to Melbourne, transferred to coaches – the smell of smoke and burning stuff was unbelievable – and took a series of small, country roads because the main highway was down to one lane until the next town up.
People grumbled. They moaned and bitched. Loudly. Of course they did. One fellow stood in the aisle of the bus and declaimed a dramatic Shakespearean rant against V-line before finally bowing to his audience’s cries that he should sit down and shut up so we could get moving. More groaning ensued, and the competing jeremiads continued until, for the last 5 minutes before turning onto the highway, we drove through a vast, charred landscape and actually saw the cause of our “terrible tribulations”.
Three things happened:
- People shut up. They began squirm. The atmosphere was one of nascent embarrassment.
- Phones appeared. Photos were taken of other folk’s misfortunes.
- Conversations erupted about the greatness and braveness of firemen (true enough) as people competed to demonstrate their sensitivity to the devastation around them.
Sometimes folk should just stop and think before they start with the whingeing.
Today, all the way to Melbourne, the train drove through a smoky miasma, which was spooky enough until we hit the area we’d been diverted around on Monday. The train slowed right down and we chugged through a landscape burnt to the horizon on one side of the tracks, and except for a few places where spot fires had jumped the rails, saved houses on the other side. And always the smoke.
So, when I arrived in Melbourne and went on to have a spectacularly crap day at the Arvo Job, my perspective had already been honed by viewing real problems. Not that one can shrug off one’s own misery entirely. I’m not superhuman.
3 comments:
Smoke permeates everything over in the eastern suburbs too. The sun burns an otherworldly orange and visibility is short.
The CFA suggests the worst is yet to come this season.
My thoughts are with those whose lives have been touched by the fires.
I've spoken to many people in Melbourne who are going about their lives seemingly unaware of the suffering of those in the fire area. However, almost everyone is also saying they feel worn out, dizzy, so tired they want to lie down and sleep. I think it's not only the smoky air, but a general feeling of despair that these fires occur and we don't know any way to avoid the destruction. The thing that gets to me is the thought of the animals fenced in and left to die. I said to someone yesterday that if I were a farmer and leaving, I would cut my fences before I left, to at least let the animals die running, not heaped up against the wire, but the other person said, where would you cut the fence? How would the animals know where to find the hole? And where would they run to, anyway?
BTW, I do realise the heroic efforts that are made to save animals as well as humans.
Thank you both for your comments - sorry I haven't responded. I'm feeling a bit queasy and slow this week, and am dragging my heels in all departments. Possibly, the smoke didn't help either, as you say Catherine.
You can feel it in the air, the truth of what the CFA are saying, Steve. Thankfully, at least up this way, we had a drop in temperature and bit of rain yesterday to soothe our souls.
And I know what you're saying about the animals, Catherine. I always think of them too. I was devastated a few days ago to read about a woman remembering the Maryville fire five years ago, and how she set her horses free only to watch them be vapourised at the bottom of her driveway. How do you live with a memory like that? Terrible stuff.
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