A story of our times

Standing on the banks of the Wallagaraugh River, we watched vast dark waves of cloud bearing down on us. Ash and embers were falling everywhere.  The smoke was so toxic that many of us were sheltering in our cars.

We could see this glowing redness that was starting to encroach. 

All the while, a manic noise like an enormous demented spinning top thrashing out of control: loud and angry. 

And then a startling detonation as a tree exploded. The heat was searing, and we knew that fire, out of sight, was bearing down on us.

By 6.00 pm that night we had lost all mobile reception.

Hundreds of us huddled along the water edge, terrified of the fire, as close to the safety zone as possible.

My asthma was playing havoc and I was struggling to breathe through all the smoke. My fear and anxiety peaking. I lay down on the floor of our car with a wet towel over my face.

It was a rough night.

Blood red sky

When I woke up, it was pitch dark. Looking around, I noticed Boris standing outside of the car and got up to join him.

I asked him what time it was “6.30am”. New Year’s Eve.

It was as though the sun had forgotten to get up. Even later it was only as the fires grew nearer that the skies turned blood red. And all the while the ferocity of the fires created their own wind blasts and explosions.

The great Aussie tradition

Boris and Vickii Srbinovski had been making the annual Christmas holiday pilgrimage to Mallacoota for twenty-three years. Hauling their caravan to a seaside town for two and a half weeks of rest and recreation. Spending times as a family and catching up with the annual neighbours.

They arrived late on the 22nd December and soon settled into old routines. However, checking their mobiles for updates on the summer’s bush fires was still a daily activity.

On the 28th December they were advised to either evacuate or stay. The Princes Highway was going to cut off by the fires. They decided to stay and wait it out.

An endurance battle

Then on 30th December at Baston beach, the patrol called them all in and said that all resources were being redeployed “enact your fire plan and stay safe.”

Later on New Year’s Eve, Boris & Vickii returned to Mallacoota from their appointed safety zone. Smoke everywhere, huge flames on the horizon and now a new noise – exploding gas bottles.  The sky stayed black for a few hours then changed to blood-red.  The fire had arrived 150 meters from the water edge.

With limited mobile reception back on it was a relief to speak to the children, “Tears overwhelmed me". They had watched the horrific images on the news. They had no way of knowing where we were if we were safe.

The next days were spent in stunned silence. My asthma was so bad I was constantly lying down on the floor of the car with a damp towel over my face. Wondering how this would all end.

On 3rd January 2020, Boris and Vickii along with 1,000 other people were evacuated on the HMAS Choules. It was part of the largest maritime evacuation in Australia, ever.

What is precious

I love life. I live for today. After an experience like that everything becomes more precious. Yes, I have to work, but I say to Boris what are we going to do today that really matters. For me, it is with family friends and doing things that have real meaning to me.

Who knows where they will be tomorrow?