Burn, Baby, Burn
As I looked out of the window this afternoon I saw a dark brown transparent cloud go by beneath the regular grey and white ones peppering the sky. There was another forest fire, though not close by. Funny, the fire bugs are starting late this year.
Every spring and summer, when there's a period of warm, dry weather, the forests light up like torches. Forest fires have become a plague all over Spain. Understandable are the ones in the middle of extreme heat and drought when a dry lightning storm is passing through. Understandable (though not excusable) are those that begin by the side of a road, most likely because of some thoughtless nicotine addict throwing out the butt rather than smothering it in his ashtray. But not understandable are those that appear in a woods near houses or urbanizations or in areas only approachable by four wheel drive where people do not usually go. Or a fire that starts in four different spots, one right after the other. The why of those fires is a recurring mystery. Reasons have been tendered, but none seem to fit. It's a mystery so great it ranks up there with the Bermuda Triangle and the lost city of Atlantis.
Around here the summer of 2006 is still referred to as the "year of the fires". In late July and early August of that year all the coast from Muxía in the north to A Guarda in the south, burned. At the beginning of August it was our turn in the area of Barbanza. Windows had to be closed and it was impossible to go to the beach. The smoke got into people's lungs and eyes were irritated. There were forest fires in all the surrounding townships. And then it was our turn. I forget the exact evening, but I remember a fire had started just to the north of us. I had driven my mother-in-law into town and as we were driving back we saw the fire had extended to the woods above our village and were probably a kilometer away from the houses on the main road up where the village begins.
The rest of the night was a nightmare. No one went to bed until four o'clock or later. At the beginning my husband went to help out at the upper end of the village, where the eucalyptus trees growing next to the houses made an inferno of the night. The road was cut off because no car could have traversed unscathed. I took my then nine-year-old daughter to relatives in a village that was in safety and had to convince police to let me back through to my house. There are fields between our house and the woods at the back, but the woods snake around and reach the road almost beside our barn. I pulled the hose up through the house and out a bedroom window and poured water on the barn roof, where sparks were spiralling and swirling. My husband filled a hundred liter gasoline powered sprayer we use to spray insecticide on the potatoes and grape arbors with clean water and pointed the nozzle at the woods, not allowing the fire to come near. When it was clear he took it and went to help our neighbors, whose chain link fence had all the plastic melted off it on the side it faced the woods. I hope to never again live another night like that one.
The next morning we were faced with the devastation of all things green. The surrounding woods had turned into charred black smudges. Smoke was still spiralling up in white wafts from holes, where the trees had burnt right down into the ground. Others were ragged black poles, standing like tired soldiers. Nine years later the hills are still not completely recovered. Trees have been replanted, and undergrowth has come back, but it's not the same. Let's just hope we don't have to live through that again.
Every spring and summer, when there's a period of warm, dry weather, the forests light up like torches. Forest fires have become a plague all over Spain. Understandable are the ones in the middle of extreme heat and drought when a dry lightning storm is passing through. Understandable (though not excusable) are those that begin by the side of a road, most likely because of some thoughtless nicotine addict throwing out the butt rather than smothering it in his ashtray. But not understandable are those that appear in a woods near houses or urbanizations or in areas only approachable by four wheel drive where people do not usually go. Or a fire that starts in four different spots, one right after the other. The why of those fires is a recurring mystery. Reasons have been tendered, but none seem to fit. It's a mystery so great it ranks up there with the Bermuda Triangle and the lost city of Atlantis.
Around here the summer of 2006 is still referred to as the "year of the fires". In late July and early August of that year all the coast from Muxía in the north to A Guarda in the south, burned. At the beginning of August it was our turn in the area of Barbanza. Windows had to be closed and it was impossible to go to the beach. The smoke got into people's lungs and eyes were irritated. There were forest fires in all the surrounding townships. And then it was our turn. I forget the exact evening, but I remember a fire had started just to the north of us. I had driven my mother-in-law into town and as we were driving back we saw the fire had extended to the woods above our village and were probably a kilometer away from the houses on the main road up where the village begins.
The rest of the night was a nightmare. No one went to bed until four o'clock or later. At the beginning my husband went to help out at the upper end of the village, where the eucalyptus trees growing next to the houses made an inferno of the night. The road was cut off because no car could have traversed unscathed. I took my then nine-year-old daughter to relatives in a village that was in safety and had to convince police to let me back through to my house. There are fields between our house and the woods at the back, but the woods snake around and reach the road almost beside our barn. I pulled the hose up through the house and out a bedroom window and poured water on the barn roof, where sparks were spiralling and swirling. My husband filled a hundred liter gasoline powered sprayer we use to spray insecticide on the potatoes and grape arbors with clean water and pointed the nozzle at the woods, not allowing the fire to come near. When it was clear he took it and went to help our neighbors, whose chain link fence had all the plastic melted off it on the side it faced the woods. I hope to never again live another night like that one.
The next morning we were faced with the devastation of all things green. The surrounding woods had turned into charred black smudges. Smoke was still spiralling up in white wafts from holes, where the trees had burnt right down into the ground. Others were ragged black poles, standing like tired soldiers. Nine years later the hills are still not completely recovered. Trees have been replanted, and undergrowth has come back, but it's not the same. Let's just hope we don't have to live through that again.
Comments
Post a Comment