Bush pinstripes

Eight four-wheel drive vehicles met up at the Licola General store, the passengers grabbing for jumpers with the unexpected morning chill in the air as they got out and greeted their fellow adventurers. Saturday morning dawned overcast and provided a nice reprieve from the recent scorching temperatures. Drivers keen for a bit of road grunt, river crossings and dozer cuts, animatedly spoke of treks past and plans for the day ahead. Passengers feeling the green, from the windy roads leading into the meeting point, were pleased to stretch their legs and settle their revolving tummies. 

A Triton, Landcruiser, Hilux, Prado and four Nissan’s lined up in their designated places in the convoy, rules were explained to the maiden drivers and radios all checked into channel 21. With assorted supplies purchased from the local store, including fuel at $1.80 per litre (ouch), lollies, sausage rolls and questionable coffee, we were off. 

Daryl and I led the way. This day out was Daryl’s idea, an opportunity for our friend’s Carol and Zac to christen their newly acquired 4WD. Having never been off-road before, they were placed second last in the convoy immediately on front of Daryl’s brother, Steve. A seasoned off-roader Steve would ensure everyone was safe and could lend a hand if necessary to our newbies. Thankfully his services were not needed. Behind us travelled Daryl’s workmate Les, also relatively new to 4WDing. After initial issues with his radio, he soon blended into the group and was welcome by all who travelled together. Behind him were longtime friends Owen and Kate. All credit to Kate who joined under duress, going off road is not exactly her idea of a good time. Given the rest of her family were also attending she put on her big girl pants, gritted her teeth and clenched her fists as they traversed the mountainside. Daryl had assured Kate that the trek was rated easy to moderate, I’m not sure Kate believes him or forgives him, just yet. Owen, with the patience of a saint supported Kate in his humorous and generous manner ensuring she was as comfortable as possible. Entertaining us all, through their animated chatter via the radio, Owen and Kate’s offspring along with their respective partners and friends, filled the remaining three vehicles. Aged between 15 and 23 they were the ‘kids’ of the trip and reminded us all what it is like to be young and full of

vigour. Collectively they are a representation of all that is to be admired – considerate, polite, easy going, willing to chip in and lend a hand, family focused and fundamentally positive. They will be welcome on any future trips. 

Once the convoy arrived at the Macalister and Caledonia Junction with a final river crossing, we found a reasonable spot right next to the water and set ourselves up. In a matter of minutes, the fire was lit in preparation for a barbeque, chairs were set up and the fumes of fly repellent filled the immediate area. The little black, sticky winged devils remained friendly throughout the day. The only respite from them was in the river! Albeit lower than usual, due to this infernal drought, the river flowed easily, creating small rapids downstream and a tiny mini pool up stream, but it was a challenge to find swimming areas deep enough to cover your shoulders.

Those of us keen enough to brave the chill waded and enjoyed the freedom that river swimming generally allows. The rocky river bed and occasional tree trunk also posed a few challenges to our balance but in reality, inhibitions were thrown alongside our towels on the stony river edge and the sounds of friendly banter and cajoling could be heard by all around. Entertainment was also well provided by other off roaders and a group of campers, who challenged every dress code imaginable. Sporting an array of sun tan markings, it was clear that the use of shirts was limited. 

Despite the big dry, plenty of campers were scattered through the national park and outlying areas, some setting up camp on the roadside in rather precarious positions. If they didn’t get collected by wayward vehicles the dust and fumes would soon choke them up. The Australia Day long weekend certainly proved popular with campers, as well as ourselves, keen to enjoy as much of the outdoors as possible. As with all good things they must come to an end, and with little effort the fire was doused and we left nothing to indicate we had ever been to this location other than a very generous pile of wood, brought from the farm. 

The trip home was uneventful. This time Steve led the way and we took last place, eating everyone’s dust. With only a few bush pinstripes Carol and Zac’s Hilux returned to Licola unscathed. It’s maiden trip successfully completed. 

21 days

It’s been 21 days since I last went to work. Twenty-one days to rest, recover, reconnect…. using 120 hours of time in lieu was a very good decision! 

Went I left work, just prior to Christmas, I was barely walking, using a crutch to move around, in severe pain and taking a plethora of painkillers. I loaded up two bags with work papers, intending to catch up during my time off. Today, I sit here with one day left of my ‘holidays’ and I am only taking one slow release anti-inflammatory, no longer use the crutch to get around and I have not touched one sheet of work. I feel rested and hopeful of a new way this year. Taking up strong advise to head back to the physiotherapist, I am now working towards rectifying years of damage and over compensation, along with strengthening exercises in preparation for a potential hip replacement. I am back in the pool and attending regular remedial massage sessions. I have become high maintenance. My range of movements is still limited and I am learning to listen to my own body, instead of ignoring the messages. I am not a good patient, I have been told this repeatedly, but I am determined to enjoy our grand adventure for 2019 – an eight-week journey to Britain to meet family, return Dad’s ashes to his final resting place and then explore the wonders of Ireland, Scotland, Wales and England without the need for crutches. 

No presents until Santa shows!

During this 21 days, extreme weather, high temperatures and the threat of fire in our neighbourhood have kept us on our toes, drenched in sweat and reaching for the cold water on frequent occasions. However, I was blessed to enjoy an adventure with my children, their partners and grandchildren to the Carols by Candlelight in Melbourne on Christmas eve.

A rare opportunity, to have us all in one place, we enjoyed a festive atmosphere and celebrated Christmas together in a three-storey house located only ten minutes from the Sidney Myer Music Bowl. With the air conditioning cranked up the house was a welcome relief after the blistering heat of the day. With all the clan together, the boisterous chatter, can be quite hard to contain, and I was worried about the increasing noise as a few drinks were enjoyed. At home on the farm we never worry about noise, but in the city with neighbours only meters away it was a challenge. The only time it was silent was during the playing of our traditional song – Christmas Shoes. It is a sad song with a beautiful message, we listen to it as a family every year. As the evening became early morning I put my mum voice on and finally convinced them all to head to bed so Santa could fill the stockings. Silence finally descended upon the house and at 2.30 in the morning I headed onto the balcony and enjoyed the city view, reflected on my many blessings, most of them snoring soundly in their beds. The morning dawn arrived way to soon, but our family ritual of cooked breakfasts together was in full swing. Bacon sizzled, hash browns baked and eggs were fried while a basket of muffins were toasted and prepared for the masses. The aroma of coffee soon filled the room. Stockings were swiftly upended and gifts exchanged, we took photos, and with hugs aplenty, all went our separate ways to enjoy the remainder of Christmas day. 

Seems Santa founds us.

The new year arrived in an uneventful fashion, Daryl worked night shift and I spent it quietly at home. The first anniversaries of the death of my former father-in-law, and then most recently my own father, cast a shadow across the start of January. Sadness is a part of our lives, contributing to the rich complexity that is our journey, as much as the joy and moments of happiness, but this understanding does not make it easy. During the gathering of valuables as we recently prepared to evacuate, I gathered numerous writings, letters, cards and even old printed emails that reflected many events and opportunities enjoyed by us all, re-reading them, I discovered similar issues over the past ten years that Daryl and I still find ourselves challenged with especially the work, life balance conundrum. Maybe this year we might find a better way.

Steers ready to go to a new home.

Circumstances that are not bringing us any joy right now, include the drought that refuses to end. We sold another 10 steers the other day and we have eight heifers to go plus a few other cows we may also sell. The herd is getting smaller which is just as well considering the feed options are getting sparser. A load of hay is on its way, 48 round bales of good quality pasture from South Gippsland where the grass is green and growing faster than we can imagine at present. The steers went straight from their mum’s and the remaining stock bawled all night, breaking through our back-paddock gate, returning them to the high ground from the morass. In the middle of the night, this was not a pleasant task, as the electric fence needed to be reinstated. There is no feed in the paddocks and we are unclear about why they would break out, except to search for their

Escape route

calves. In the clear light of day Daryl, with some help from our trusty friends Zac and Carol, made temporary repairs to render the gateway functional. With the herd serenading us this morning, we also had shearers booked in to tidy up our

Like a new one!

two alpacas. A new shearer, Sarah, whom we had never met, arrived with a team of three others and within 30 minutes they had efficiently and professionally shorn, vaccinated and trimmed the hooves of our Romney and Delight. Well prepared and coordinated Sarah and her team were a welcome addition to our day. 

Makes it look easy

The heat of the day keeps me indoors, tackling the small tasks that can be forgotten in the day to day busyness. It’s been nice to have time to get things sorted. Cleaning out cupboards, sorting through paperwork, re-arranging belongings often takes me back down memory lane. Somedays this is a good thing, but on other days it’s more of a chore. 

Looking a little cooler

Our final task of the day saw the dusk settling in as we fed some hay to the cattle (bought tonight from a local farmer and friend). The cattle created quite the dust storm running towards the tractor in pursuits of fresh feed. It’s a nice feeling to be able to give them something that will fill their stomachs that I presume tastes quite lovely!

Waiting for a haircut

With no sign of rain, the sprinklers are churning out as much water as possible on the vegetable garden and in our efforts to keep the house grounds damp, in consideration of the neighbouring fire, the grass is finally starting to grow and we have a tiny belt of green in our backyard. The fire is still burning behind containment lines. It is classed as out of control and has burnt more than 12,000 hectares. The sun set tonight

with a red glow in the sky, the temperatures are rising each day and will tip 40 degrees by mid-week. It will be a challenge to keep that grass green. Monday sees work start up again and I know my greatest challenge will be to keep control of my hours and workload, allowing me time to recover as I try to rebuild this flailing body of mine. Also, we have a significant birthday to celebrate this weekend and I will need to be in form to ensure its success. More about that later J

I came across this in some of my writings – good advice:

Wisdom is knowing what to do next,

Skill is knowing how to do it,

And virtue is doing it!

Until next time,

N

A fiery Friday

The final photo album has been returned to the cupboard shelf and I have hung the last photo frame to the hallway wall. The clothes, we packed, are back in their drawers and the computer, I am typing on, is one of the many valuables we chose to take when the evacuation calls came through, late on the night of Friday, January 4^th. 

The fire warnings have reduced to ‘Advice’, for now, but I continue to re -apply the masking tape holding the towels over the vents on the house, the smoke is strong and will permeate the entire house if allowed. The doors are opened only to necessitate movements in and out and the sprinklers remain active ensuring the area surrounding the house is wet. The emergency application on my phone is also set to notify me of any changes. 

This fire, which has all the signs of being deliberately lit, has changed some of our beautiful landscape forever. It has also changed us.

The Rosedale fire, as I suspect it will be known, started 6.3 kilometres from the township and quickly became a major bush fire, heading into pine plantations. Yesterday, it had burnt more than 10,000 hectares, but thankfully no homes or lives have been lost. An updated warning, just received, states the fire continues to spread towards other areas, where farmland and livestock are at risk. It is not yet under control; the winds have increased again. My heart breaks for the hundreds of firefighters, volunteers for the most part, who are risking their own lives and leaving their own families, to valiantly take on a blaze intent on ravishing the land that is crisp and dry. They are heroes in every sense of the title. 

Returning from moving the sprinklers I cannot help but notice the hundreds of burnt leaves that litter the ground, scorched and blackened they have travelled far, some of the recognizable leaves are from trees that do not grow in our area. The capacity for the fire to continue spreading from embers is very real. It is this reality that drove our decisions Friday night. 

Earlier in the day, we had enjoyed a belated birthday breakfast with friends in Traralgon, the forecast for the day was set for 43 degrees, with hot winds. It had all the making of a bad day for fires. We had then arranged to have our delightful granddaughter come home with us for a sleepover. We had plans for puzzles, making purple jelly, feeding chickens wheat and collecting bread for the cows after a trip to the beach and a play in the park, all before mum and dad came to pick her up on Saturday night after enjoying a family meal together. The jelly was made and the puzzles played but then I made the call for our precious girl to go home. It was no longer safe. 

We saw the plumes of smoke clouds as we drove home and commented, with some concern, on the increasing size of the fire but remained secure in that it was quite a long way from our farm and heading in the opposite direction. We knew the firefighters where already there and anticipated they would have it under control. But severe winds, fueled the flames and by early evening the skies had blackened over our property and ash was falling on our heads. 

Earlier in the afternoon, with temperatures hovering in the low 40s it was stifling outside, fiercely the sun beat down and hot sweat poured off Daryl’s body as he rounded up the cattle from our morass and pushed them up to higher ground. An ember in our bushland would be disastrous. So, we flooded the chicken and alpaca’s pen with water, allowing them to wallow in the mud to cool off, set the sprinkler to full-speed and watched skywards with heavy hearts, beating faster than usual. 

Checking on neighbours, some older, some solo, another with two small children, it was heartening to see everyone work together to ensure we were all safe. By 10pm the hostile winds had turned and another fire, started by falling embers was now heading in our direction. The ‘watch and act’ warning was now upgraded. This was not expected and the conversations of the previous hours heralded us into action. It was now time to gather our valuables and get out. Adrenaline is your friend in times of trauma, as is modern technology and people power. We were comforted by the many calls and messages of help received from family and friends, it is comforting to know people care. We needed to make decisions, fast, and all of a sudden it seemed too hard. How do you determine what is valuable, what can I leave behind? This is our home and we had the luxury of time to ponder and consider. The fire front was still far enough away from us and so the urgency lessened, giving us an opportunity to grab photos frames, albums put together long before the age of digital photography and the iCloud. These would be irreplaceable. Filling the cars with our goods, we cramped the two cats indignantly into a small cat cage, made for one, along with the three dogs, ready to pick up Bek from work and head to our son and daughter-in-law’s home in the next town, knowing we were leaving our cattle, chooks and alpacas at the mercy of Mother Nature. Embracing Daryl before jumping into separate cars, the tears we both shed blended together, and we knew we would have to come back and protect them. This farm, with nearly fifty years of memories, refuses to let us go. In an instant I knew I didn’t want to lose it, if I had the choice. As we drove away, I prayed we would have the chance to make that choice. 

A sleepless night followed, I served up some food at 2 am and we listened and watched. Mother Nature must have heard us and the wind turned the fire away from us. We breathed a little easier. Yesterday, saw a neighborhood of fatigued farmers continue to be vigilant, we kept the cars packed, just in case. We talked about our good fortune. Daryl and I pondered what we would do differently, if there is ever a next time. We slept like rocks.

The fire still burns and at Daryl’s last calculation the front is three kilometers from the river that is the boundary of our farm. Maybe, I should have left the cars packed.

Until next time,

N.