A close call
It is the fire season in Portugal. Last year, I was living in the north of the country and wrote about my Baptism of Fire (pun intended). I was surrounded by fires and endured smoke day and night for months which, astonishingly, the locals were oblivious to. The whole of north Portugal was affected. I am sure the dense smoke was visible from space. In moving to the north east, where the landscape is open with fewer forests (of the wrong type - pine and eucalyptus), I hoped the summer would be more tolerable in this regard. And it has been. There have been plenty of fires elsewhere but not where I am living, apart from two days where the air quality was compromised as a result of smoke carried by the wind, from very large fires 200 kilometres away.
However, everything changed yesterday around midday. In the morning, I was attempting to digest a recent Portuguese lesson, which my required full concentration, as it is a difficult language to learn. When I took a break and looked out of the window, to my amazement, the sky was full of eerie looking orange smoke which had obliterated the sun, hence the colour. The fire was moving fast and gathering mass in the strong wind, heading in the direction of the village. I cut short my studies to take a closer look at the smoke, from my daily walking route. It was business as usual in the village as I left, super quiet and no-one around. En route, however, the scene was shocking. Smoke was rising in a very large plume from behind the hills surrounding the village. It was close. Way too close. I took pictures and hurried back to raise the alarm. As I made the descent into the village, a small group of residents were gathered observing the scene. I asked (through my translation device) if anyone knew if the fire service had been called. They didn’t. So I called the emergency number and thankfully, it turned out they were aware. I returned to my house to find an ever larger crowd was gathering – a favoured location as my house is opposite the community centre and has a bird’s eye view of the surrounding countryside.
A villager who spoke some English explained that there had been a devastating fire 10 years ago which destroyed the countryside around the village, though the village itself had been saved. Everyone was anxious. Shortly after, flames could be seen dancing through the smoke in one or two places. Within an hour there were around 20 pockets of flames in close proximity to the village, whilst on the horizon, a menacing red glow had appeared stretching for miles, from significant fires in the valleys beyond. The situation was escalating. Ironically, I felt super calm, in stark contrast to the villagers who were extremely nervous. Some were noticeably shaking. I attributed my calm to having (unfortunately) been in a number of emergencies in the past, where I instinctively triggered a state of balance (most likely learned from years of meditation), that allowed me to connect to my instinct and act accordingly.
In my gut, I felt things would be OK. But at the same time, I was inclined to take reasonable precautions. So, while everyone stood around talking, I got busy. I felt a little self-conscious, as I seemed to be the only one doing anything. By now, villagers had brought chairs to spectate the event which, I was told, was likely to require all night vigilance. First, I got out an extra long hose pipe (saved from my life on wheels, where I often had to pump water over a long distance into the tank on board the ‘mothership’). I sprayed the walls of my house (and offered a shower to onlookers, which they declined). I also hosed the surrounding vegetation, the road, and the walls and woodwork of my immediate neighbours houses, as far as the hose would reach. I turned off the gas and made a mental note to turn off the power if I had to evacuate. Then I got the car out of the garage and parked it next to the house, in case a speedy exit was required. I packed several large bags of essentials and loaded them into the car. I contemplated putting my beloved e-bike onto the back of the car but decided against it. I observed my detachment from the situation, which felt good. The thought briefly passed through my mind that I had spent a lot of time and money getting the house up together after moving in, and it would be a bummer if I lost it all. But, hey, it was insured. And ‘stuff’ (all things material) can be replaced in time. Granted, it would be a nuisance but it wasn’t life threatening.
Ash was falling from the sky by now. The crowd was even larger and quite rowdy, as 35 permanent residents were matched by the same number of relatives who were on holiday in the village (many live in France and come to Portugal for the month of August). Reinforcements for the local volunteer fire brigade passed through the village, and farmers set off on their tractors to cut the dry vegetation around the village, to act as a fire break. The Municipality President then arrived and instructed everyone to stay calm.
I gesticulated to several people that ‘prayer’ (I had in mind ‘focused group intention’, which is proven to be highly effective) might be a better course of action than worrying. But there were no takers, so I went into the house to do my own focusing. I visualised the fire retreating. I imagined a gigantic fire blanket blotting out the flames. I asked the elements to calm the wind, or re-direct it (if not dangerous to others) and asked for divine intervention from cosmic friends who might be able to help. I regularly commune with the elements and act for divine intervention, so this was not a new practise for me. And my experience is that, mostly, my requests have been granted. It certainly seemed fantastical years ago to think we might be able to influence the elements, but there have been too many co-incidences in my life, that suggest otherwise.
An hour later, just as it was getting dark, I went outside to find that the wind had completely dropped and the fires looked far less aggressive. There was a feeling of calm. Whether my 'prayers' had been answered or not, didn't matter. I was ecstatic. I searched through the crowd for people I recognised, to tell them (in my limited Portuguese), that all would be fine. And I offered some organic chocolate (which is always stashed in the fridge) to sweeten the message. I hosed my house another couple of times but it was drying so quickly, I don’t know that it did very much. By midnight, the crowd has disappeared, along with the flames. It was miraculous!
I woke up this morning to a smoke filled sky and poor air quality but no flames, which was a great relief. However, fires can easily re-start, so we are not out of the woods yet. As I needed to get some provisions from the local town, I decided to take the long route and examine the extent of the damage. It was shocking. It looked like hundreds of thousands of acres were damaged or destroyed and some areas resembled a black lunar landscape. Everything was smouldering, but nothing was burning. Exhausted fire fighters were slumped by their vehicles on the side of the road. To my mind, there is absolutely no way that the firefighters alone (who are few in number and had no support from the air) could have gained such a mighty victory over such a vast area, unaided. They did an amazing job and they are heroes. But I feel sure they had 'help', that there was divine intervention.
The worst destruction occurred in the pine forests - no surprise. But there were gaps in the burning, so the strong winds must have carried embers which ignited new areas and dramatically escalated the speed at which the fire spread. Portuguese farmers like to plough the ground between trees in their olive and nut orchards, allegedly for fire prevention. From what I saw, this is no guarantee. There were plenty of scorched orchards. Conversely, there were areas where people had been growing food (and were irrigating), or which had not been cleared that must have had a source of underground water, which survived. This confirmed my feeling for the Earth Collective project that more fire resilience can be gained by retaining ground cover which will keep natural moisture in the earth and also improve soil quality, as well as establishing a good irrigation system.
Driving around, observing the land and the local farming practises in all seasons and situations, is educational and this situation, though tragic especially for the incredible ecology and wildlife, is no exception. Thankfully, villages were not burned, though one was evacuated, and there was no loss of human life. The smoke will persist for a few days, which will mean keeping all the windows and doors closed (not great in such high temperatures) but it is a small price to pay for a such a miracle.
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Well responded and well written episode. Remember, we can lead any horse to water but cannot force to drink. Of course your focus on the receding fires worked! Real proud of you Fiona. Everywhere upon this ‘big lady downstairs’ there are people such as you making a difference… after all it’s all that ever has.