#bermagui

“At The Edge Of Despair”

Bermagui, NSW

By Michael Stringer

Expanded in 1937 by a local philanthropist, it often has the same about of marine life as nearby “all natural” rock pools.

More green than blue today.

It was cool in at first, but I warmed up.

We went to the coast to visit family despite warnings that we should reconsider our travel plans. There was a free highway with no fires in the area and, as it was Christmas and our families were on the coast, we found our way down the alternative and long route, meeting friends in Cooma along the way. The usual route was closed due to bushfires.

Christmas was a success and we were all having a great time! There was some smoke from the bushfires up north so we stayed inside but anticipated clearer weather to take the kids swimming for new year.

The night before New Year’s Eve, we noticed an orange glow in the sky and smoke. The RFS app showed a fire had started at Badja outside of Numeralla. It looked so far away at the time. We went to bed with the thought of swimming the next day. My birthday was on New Years Day. After we’d go for a swim we’d bake the cake and prepare the food and board games and get ready to do the tradition we do every year. We were to go outside, watch the new year end and the new year begin, start my birthday cheers and a dark male is to walk through the house before we re-enter. So when we went to bed, we imagined that that was going to be our New Years Eve.

The fire looked so far away.

I woke up at about 5am or 5:30am and looked at my phone. The RSF app told everyone in Cobargo and Coolagolite to evacuate towards Bermagui. We had my mums partner in Coolagolite and so I immediately called them to wake them and told them to get out of there. They raced right over to ours. I went to wake my mum to let her know what was happening. Just then a knock was heard on the door. I go outside to find a woman with a hose, she’s frantically waking everyone. “Cobargo is on fire right now. People are coming here. We might have to run next. We just need to wake everyone up.” I looked up to the sky and there was nothing but darkness with a deep, red glow. Burnt leaves and ash fell from its darkness. I open my RFS app to look and the fire had actually grown so much in a few short hours, it was practically at our doorstep.

A new notification comes in at that moment instructing Bermagui to evacuate to the beach. The Surf Life Saving Club was the evacuation centre so we decide to make our way there. We pack up the car and wake the kids. We tell our oldest that we are off to watch a sunrise and that worked well because skies are also shades of red and orange during a sunrise. We didn’t want to freak her out yet. Our son is a baby so his only concern was his bottle. We’d eventually have to tell our daughter the truth when the daylight doesn’t come after the sunrise but for now we had to get them out as calmly as possible.

The streets were lined with cars and people. Emergency vehicles passed by us occasionally. “Look at all the people here to view the last sunrise of the year!” I said. “Why are there nee-naws, mummy?” “Well even emergency services enjoy a sunrise!” I countered. She seemed happy with that answer.

We’d also come to the coast with our guinea pigs as we had no one to babysit them in Canberra at the time. So we were carrying a baby, our bags with the things we needed, a tired toddler, the toys she wanted to bring to view the sunrise with, blankets to keep warm (we had learned that it can actually get very cold when the smoke is so thick it blocks out the sun and it’s warmth like it’s midnight), food for the kids and a giant carry-cage with three guinea pigs. We checked ourselves in with the volunteers and then collapsed on some grass outside, still maintaining that we were “watching the sunrise”. When I told her the truth later, she calmly asked her questions and then went off to play with her new Barbie Ambulance. She dreams of being a doctor one day and the thing folds out into a doctors office. It’s a real hit.

Sitting on the lawn and trying to feed a baby who was suddenly aware that he was in a loud space, he cried while my daughter tried to calm him and my husband and I silently fretted, wondering if other family members were safe. My husbands grandparents live near Batemans Bay and the fires were escalating there. My mother sat in the grass with her partner at another location convinced things would be fine while I’d occasionally yelled at her via text to get up to the SLSC to check in. I just wanted to be sure that everyone could be accounted for. She’d tell me not to worry and we’d see each other later. It had begun to rain lots of ash and leaves so we took the kids, the guinea pigs and all of our stuff inside.

Finding and collapsing on a miraculously free couch inside the centre, my husband settles the kids while I go out to get some space. Crowds in these situations make me feel like I’m in a small space and I had to step out periodically to calm down. On one of my excursions out I took a video of the evacuation that’s blowing up on my TikTok and some photos that ended up being in a news article later that morning. People on TikTok who had family in the area wanted to know the situation and I’d spend the rest of the day informing them of what was going on. There’s something about being on the scene and letting people know the situation that makes me feel like I should have possibly been a reporter. So begins a moment of existential crisis before I notice I’ve got ash and burnt leaves in my hair and I head back in.

We remained at the centre until mid afternoon when we were told that those with residences and accommodation within the town were cleared to go home. We were relieved! So on New Years Eve, mid afternoon, we went home, settled the baby down for a nap and started planning the next day. The baking we could do while we wait this thing out. I plugged my phone in to charge and the power went out moments later. Baking was suddenly off the table.

The fires had knocked out the electricity. But we still had reception. I sat in the car to charge my phone there and was responding to comments to let people know the situation. The sky turned this incredibly dark red and then went black. It was about 5:15pm and we lost reception. That meant no internet as well. I go back into the house. “We have no power and no communications. We have no way to let those worrying about us in the outside world know that we are okay and we can’t check on those who we are worried about in Batemans Bay.” I said. The word at the time was that they may not be able to restore power until the weekend but they actually couldn’t for an entire week.

On top of that, the petrol stations were all closed and our tank didn’t have enough to get to a town an hour away that had no guarantee of petrol. The radio repeatedly told people to leave despite no guarantee of petrol and that wasn’t realistic for us. We were to stay put until the petrol stations open and do our best.

We sat in darkness with some torches, playing scrabble, watching the world outside get darker. The quiet was very unusual. There were no birds singing, no crickets or frogs and the town was closed off. No one could travel so there were no cars. There was nothing. Just silence with an apocalyptic view. When the smoke accumulated enough to create its own thunder storm, it felt like we were dropped right in the radioactive badlands of Fallout 4 with a more reddish hue. The blue skies and turquoise waters we paddleboarded on were a distant memory all of a sudden. It was freezing. Of course, I only packed summer clothes.

New Years Day arrived and my family was trying to celebrate my birthday the best we could but with such wide windows built for a view, the apocalyptic view outside and the reminder that a fire was by our doorstep drowned any feeling of joy. We were scared. I kept thinking about a week earlier, looking at the map and seeing nothing of concern and racing down to see our families. How could we stay away from our families for Christmas? But here we were a week later. There was a road briefly open to Tathra and it was nose-to-nose for hours. Cars slowly lined the main road as frightened tourists and residents fled with their things. Destination - Bega, Cooma, Canberra. And we stayed and watched with our nearly empty tank. “You wouldn’t want to be in that with a baby.” Mum said. She was right.

Our baby is bottle fed and so we’d make the trips up to the SLSC to get boiled water to make bottles with and for some coffee. I found a spot of reception and quickly let my friends know we were okay via Facebook before it dropped out again. They had been worried. Without communication, no one knew the full extent of the situation. Night time was hard because the baby wakes and the bottles had to be heated with whatever hot water was left in the hot water system and it barely warmed a bottle. We couldn’t shower or only jumped in for 30 seconds so we could save the hot water.

Without power we couldn’t cook and our fridge wasn’t going to refrigerate anything. We kept cool some milk the best we could and stocked up on canned goods. We ate baby corn and sardines, fruit and anything else we could get from the supermarket. The supermarket remained open with shelves that were emptying fast. It reminded me of abandoned supermarkets in Fallout. A lot of Fallout happening, I thought to myself. The staff worked while not knowing if their houses were still there. In a neighbouring town they had to close the supermarket as people began walking off with trolleys full of stuff and looting upon hearing that there was a problem with transaction processes. “People have got to eat” a friend later would say. People were trapped and scared with limited food to give their families. Things were bound to take a turn. Some days later the supermarket in Bermagui would be closed due to being understaffed as people fled or staff defending their homes. Thankfully the SLSC has donated food to give out.

The day after New Year we were all on edge. The smoke stayed thick, the kids were scared, the toddler hated being stuck inside and the baby was scared from the smell of smoke. Our throats and eyes hurt. Coffee was limited. My husband and I went to get some hot water when a neighbour said there’s a line at a petrol station. As we went past we saw the tanker. Oh my gosh there’s a tanker!! We got some hot water, I passed a bird in a cage, dropped the hot water off at home and raced to the line.

We were around the 100th car in line. My husband waited in the car while I went up to grab us coffee while we waited. I passed by the bird again. It had a note that it belonged to a Cobargo resident and the person who had dropped it off couldn’t find the owner and couldn’t fit it in her car so begged that someone feed it and give it water at the centre. It sat there with it’s cover and a box of its food, tweeting at anyone who passed it. I took the coffee back to the car and raced up to the centre a final time. I was going to evacuate with that bird. The volunteers didn’t really know how to look after it and, with everything going on, couldn’t have the time to give it what it needed.

A news station had found its way into Bermagui to show the line to the petrol station in their segment and had reported that the petrol was free. People began getting news that they had free petrol as those who overheard the report started to tell the line of cars. It wasn’t free though, and you had to pay in cash. Thankfully we did have cash on us, a rare thing for us. We wondered about those who had none, what they’d do if they were told they had free fuel only to find that they had to pay - and had no cash on them. I later corrected the news channel on my Twitter, disgusted at the irresponsible reporting.

It took 3 hours to get fuel while we waited for the generator to work at the station, then raced home to grab the kids, who mum was watching. There was a window of opportunity to escape and we were taking it. Mum took the opportunity too. She grabbed petrol before the pumps ran out and then fled to my brothers place in Bega. She’d stay there several days until she was allowed to go home.

Our drive home was slow. There were jams at several points and the smoke was so thick we had to close the aircon entirely. We watched as small fires still burnt so actively under trees and people cried outside the smouldering rubble that used to be their home. Animals sat in paddocks with burnt legs and we knew they’d likely be shot later. A lone alpaca sat on blackened paddocks and I hoped it wasn’t burnt, it’s fluffy face looking on to the distance as if it already knew its fate. Our baby cried for his bottle but they went cold in the traffic jams. There was nowhere to heat it until we met up with our friends in Cooma, the ones we met on the way down a week earlier. We fell through their doors looking worse for wear as they made us coffee and gifted us shortbread. We fed the kids and stretched our legs. We got home after 9 hours. My husbands family didn’t want us to worry and filled our shelves and cupboards with food and turned the aircon on to give the house clean air. We sat on our bed in an unchaotic house and wondered if we really did just go through all of that.

Mum was able to go home this past Wednesday and they switched the power back on. Mum was glad the place wasn’t looted as there were looters in the area. The fires brought out the best and the worst in people. While we were raising money and donating, others looted the cars of those who had already lost everything. When in Bega my mum, at one point, hid under a bridge with my brother for hours while it rained live embers. An old colleague of my brothers took them in until they could go back to my brothers place.

When we got back home to Canberra, I started the search for the birds owner and found her after a big community effort. She had gone to Melbourne for Christmas to see her daughter and her neighbour looked after the bird. The owner had lost everything. Her house and all her belongings and important documents. It would take a while to get back on her feet and so I’m watching her bird for her while she does so. I felt so sad to hear that she lost everything. What we went through was so small in comparison. We had a home to run away to and my mum got to go home to her house. But this bird and his owner have lost everything but each other and their dog. The bird gets along with our guinea pigs. They all chirp together while sitting inside waiting for the smoke in Canberra to die down. It’s really very cute.

It’s been very emotional. I have been crying at odd moments. We’ve seen a lot. This past week my husband and I have been struggling with how everything was supposed to be normal again. He’d go to work and I’d look after the kids and do my hobbies except it’s smokey outside and we have P2 masks on whenever we went out and the house is taped up to keep smoke out.

We are still processing a lot but I think typing it here helps in that process. Thank you if you read all of this. I will be resuming the bug photography soon. There’s no real conclusion yet and that’s because the fires rage on. There won’t be a real conclusion for a while yet. I guarantee it’ll remain devastating. We’ve lost lives and wildlife. We’ve lost treasured places and homes. Pets die from respiratory distress from being left outside. Stock are being put down from being injured in the fires. So we all cry from time to time while trying to do our best daily.

Much love,