Grantville fires, February 2, 2019. All photos: Geoff Ellis By Anne Heath Mennell
IT WASN’T supposed to be a high risk fire day last Friday. I was away from home most of the day. Coming down Anderson hill, with the Waterline laid out before me, there was an ominous column of smoke rising out of the bush on the eastern side of the highway. The smoke seemed to be leaning across the highway, which suggested the wind was blowing from the east. That would blow smoke and the fire onto my side of the highway.
I stood with neighbours at the back fence, looking across the paddocks towards the hills. The smoke seemed to be shifting as we watched helicopters and planes buzzing around and through it. I couldn’t see any flames or fire glow but the vegetation was obviously well alight. We were at the mercy of the wind. If it shifted from the south it could destroy the Adams estate, Grantville and the nature reserve all the way up to the Gurdies. From the east, it would blow ash, embers and flames towards Tenby Point, Corinella and Coronet Bay.
IT WASN’T supposed to be a high risk fire day last Friday. I was away from home most of the day. Coming down Anderson hill, with the Waterline laid out before me, there was an ominous column of smoke rising out of the bush on the eastern side of the highway. The smoke seemed to be leaning across the highway, which suggested the wind was blowing from the east. That would blow smoke and the fire onto my side of the highway.
I stood with neighbours at the back fence, looking across the paddocks towards the hills. The smoke seemed to be shifting as we watched helicopters and planes buzzing around and through it. I couldn’t see any flames or fire glow but the vegetation was obviously well alight. We were at the mercy of the wind. If it shifted from the south it could destroy the Adams estate, Grantville and the nature reserve all the way up to the Gurdies. From the east, it would blow ash, embers and flames towards Tenby Point, Corinella and Coronet Bay.
CFA crews drive through Grantville I felt completely unprepared. I didn’t have an emergency bag packed. I’ve always been told that a fire was likeliest to come from the west, with the prevailing winds, or from a fire on French Island, carried on a hot northerly across Westernport to the Tenby Point foreshore and then down our single road. My fire plan has always been to leave early and head to Wonthaggi. A fire to the east, near the highway was never in my calculations.
So instead of cooking dinner I hurtled round the house deciding what to put in the car. Paperwork, the laptop, some jewellery and the sentimental stuff – old photo albums, some beloved music and my childhood teddy bear. As I quickly went through cupboards and drawers I was amazed at how little I felt the need to grab. Much of what I own is old and almost all of it could be replaced. Items of clothing I love didn’t seem worth the time to pull out, pack and load into the car. Afterwards I realised that I didn’t even throw in a spare pair of knickers and I forgot to take the phone charger. Once the car was packed and the cat carry boxes ready, there was nothing to do but watch and wait.
The alert saying the fire had jumped the highway and Tenby Point should evacuate galvanised me into action. The cats and I headed to Corinella four kilometres to the west and took refuge with a friend. We spent the rest of the evening monitoring updates and ringing people to let them know we were OK. Lots of friends did check in as news of the fire spread but I was surprised by some of the people who didn’t make contact. I don’t have a smart phone or the emergency app but found the emergency information number was excellent. It gave the same information and was updated regularly which helped quell the uncertainty inherent in such a situation.
By late Friday evening Tenby Point was no longer on the evacuate list and the fire outbreak at Queensferry had been contained. I did get some sleep on Friday and Saturday nights but the air quality was really bad and visibility very poor. Although emergency workers seemed to be keeping on top of the situation, I know that things can change very quickly so it was a very tense time over the weekend and into Monday. It was still hazy and smoky on Tuesday so I cancelled a trip to Melbourne, just in case anything flared up again.
With any bushfire the potential for disaster is extreme. This turned out to be a relatively minor one but it could have been so different. All the emergency personnel worked tirelessly and effectively to do what needed to be done. There seemed to be systems in place to manage the situation and keep people informed. I found the uncertainty difficult to deal with but I don’t think any more could have been done. A volatile, emergency situation is just that and we have to make the best of it.
Amazingly, I have two friends who were also dealing with bushfires last weekend. The one in Cygnet, south of Hobart, has been dealing with ash and smoke for the past week from a fire across the river from her house. Many people have left the area but she has stayed, so far.
The other moved to Hepburn Springs a couple of years ago and had flames at the bottom of her street on Saturday. She evacuated to Melbourne with her four cats but is now home. She had no sleep over the weekend, was back at work on Monday and is surprised that she is still feeling completely flat. We'll all need to continue to support each other for a while yet, I suspect. When we last spoke she said rain was falling steadily. Hallelujah and I hope it reaches here very soon. Dangerous times, indeed
Last Wednesday the power went out for several hours after the thunderstorm which apparently started Friday’s fire. I had plenty of time to reflect on the fragility of the lives we lead. In my case, no lights or hot food, no phone or internet, no fridge/freezer, no TV or music. My world would be unsustainable within 24 hours. The experience on Friday reinforced my feeling of vulnerability. We humans can do nothing about lightning or bushfires or the wind. It’s a tiny step from normal to disaster.
Postscript, February 20, 2019
After the Grantville fire was contained, I learnt that there had been a couple of small spot fires in Corinella and Coronet Bay. They were quickly dealt with but it really made me think. Those embers must have blown over Tenby Point to reach Corinella. If the wind had eased at any point, and even one had dropped into the settlement while it was evacuated, it could have been a very different story. Another reminder of the fine line between survival and disaster.
I’ve since talked to a friend living on the fire side of the highway whose car has been damaged by ash. It will probably be an insurance job. I’d never really thought about that possibility and am grateful that my car was mostly in the carport and seems to be ok.
Other friends, who have a property close to the highway, have a dam which contained a number of turtles. They are all now dead. She thinks fire retardant might have drifted across the highway but has no way of knowing for sure. The family is devastated. Again, a consequence I never thought about and I wonder how many more animals, birds, insects, amphibians and plants didn’t survive the fire or efforts to quench it.
In the week following the fire we were also lucky to have cool temperatures and some very welcome rain which reduced the chances of the fire flaring up. Exactly a week after the fire, I was wearing a long sleeved top, winter weight pants, socks and shoes because I was cold and was listening to hail thundering on a tin roof. Strange times indeed
Two weeks after the fire I was at a meeting of the Tenby Point Residents Association, listening to a firey from our local Grantville-Kernot brigade which did such sterling work. He confirmed that the cause was a lightning strike during the thunderstorm on Wednesday, two days before the fire took off. There was great concern that the fire would get into the tip. If it had, the fire could have taken weeks or months to extinguish and the smoke/fumes would have been highly toxic. The whole area might have had to evacuate for a very long time.
As it was, we can thank Mother Nature for changing her mind. The wind kept changing direction, swirling around and back on itself rather than pushing a front. Apparently the fire-fighters have dubbed it ‘the Grantville effect’. Luck, chance, fate – whatever you call it we had a narrow escape.
So instead of cooking dinner I hurtled round the house deciding what to put in the car. Paperwork, the laptop, some jewellery and the sentimental stuff – old photo albums, some beloved music and my childhood teddy bear. As I quickly went through cupboards and drawers I was amazed at how little I felt the need to grab. Much of what I own is old and almost all of it could be replaced. Items of clothing I love didn’t seem worth the time to pull out, pack and load into the car. Afterwards I realised that I didn’t even throw in a spare pair of knickers and I forgot to take the phone charger. Once the car was packed and the cat carry boxes ready, there was nothing to do but watch and wait.
The alert saying the fire had jumped the highway and Tenby Point should evacuate galvanised me into action. The cats and I headed to Corinella four kilometres to the west and took refuge with a friend. We spent the rest of the evening monitoring updates and ringing people to let them know we were OK. Lots of friends did check in as news of the fire spread but I was surprised by some of the people who didn’t make contact. I don’t have a smart phone or the emergency app but found the emergency information number was excellent. It gave the same information and was updated regularly which helped quell the uncertainty inherent in such a situation.
By late Friday evening Tenby Point was no longer on the evacuate list and the fire outbreak at Queensferry had been contained. I did get some sleep on Friday and Saturday nights but the air quality was really bad and visibility very poor. Although emergency workers seemed to be keeping on top of the situation, I know that things can change very quickly so it was a very tense time over the weekend and into Monday. It was still hazy and smoky on Tuesday so I cancelled a trip to Melbourne, just in case anything flared up again.
With any bushfire the potential for disaster is extreme. This turned out to be a relatively minor one but it could have been so different. All the emergency personnel worked tirelessly and effectively to do what needed to be done. There seemed to be systems in place to manage the situation and keep people informed. I found the uncertainty difficult to deal with but I don’t think any more could have been done. A volatile, emergency situation is just that and we have to make the best of it.
Amazingly, I have two friends who were also dealing with bushfires last weekend. The one in Cygnet, south of Hobart, has been dealing with ash and smoke for the past week from a fire across the river from her house. Many people have left the area but she has stayed, so far.
The other moved to Hepburn Springs a couple of years ago and had flames at the bottom of her street on Saturday. She evacuated to Melbourne with her four cats but is now home. She had no sleep over the weekend, was back at work on Monday and is surprised that she is still feeling completely flat. We'll all need to continue to support each other for a while yet, I suspect. When we last spoke she said rain was falling steadily. Hallelujah and I hope it reaches here very soon. Dangerous times, indeed
Last Wednesday the power went out for several hours after the thunderstorm which apparently started Friday’s fire. I had plenty of time to reflect on the fragility of the lives we lead. In my case, no lights or hot food, no phone or internet, no fridge/freezer, no TV or music. My world would be unsustainable within 24 hours. The experience on Friday reinforced my feeling of vulnerability. We humans can do nothing about lightning or bushfires or the wind. It’s a tiny step from normal to disaster.
Postscript, February 20, 2019
After the Grantville fire was contained, I learnt that there had been a couple of small spot fires in Corinella and Coronet Bay. They were quickly dealt with but it really made me think. Those embers must have blown over Tenby Point to reach Corinella. If the wind had eased at any point, and even one had dropped into the settlement while it was evacuated, it could have been a very different story. Another reminder of the fine line between survival and disaster.
I’ve since talked to a friend living on the fire side of the highway whose car has been damaged by ash. It will probably be an insurance job. I’d never really thought about that possibility and am grateful that my car was mostly in the carport and seems to be ok.
Other friends, who have a property close to the highway, have a dam which contained a number of turtles. They are all now dead. She thinks fire retardant might have drifted across the highway but has no way of knowing for sure. The family is devastated. Again, a consequence I never thought about and I wonder how many more animals, birds, insects, amphibians and plants didn’t survive the fire or efforts to quench it.
In the week following the fire we were also lucky to have cool temperatures and some very welcome rain which reduced the chances of the fire flaring up. Exactly a week after the fire, I was wearing a long sleeved top, winter weight pants, socks and shoes because I was cold and was listening to hail thundering on a tin roof. Strange times indeed
Two weeks after the fire I was at a meeting of the Tenby Point Residents Association, listening to a firey from our local Grantville-Kernot brigade which did such sterling work. He confirmed that the cause was a lightning strike during the thunderstorm on Wednesday, two days before the fire took off. There was great concern that the fire would get into the tip. If it had, the fire could have taken weeks or months to extinguish and the smoke/fumes would have been highly toxic. The whole area might have had to evacuate for a very long time.
As it was, we can thank Mother Nature for changing her mind. The wind kept changing direction, swirling around and back on itself rather than pushing a front. Apparently the fire-fighters have dubbed it ‘the Grantville effect’. Luck, chance, fate – whatever you call it we had a narrow escape.
The scene from Grantville the day after the fire started.