Yesterday my girlfriend and I arrived in Mogo expecting to enjoy a few days away from Sydney. Sadly, it wouldn’t be the case.
We drove down yesterday through a haze of smoke and settled into our accommodation at the Gold Rush Colony in Mogo. They’d told us not to worry about the fires as they weren’t affected by them.
The fires were near, but were under control in places, so we kept one eye on the news and tried to make the most of it. We enjoyed a nice dinner and walk along the waterfront at nearby Batemans Bay before getting cosy with our books.
But we didn’t sleep easy. I was already feeling a little bit off colour with a sore throat and it was only exacerbated by the smoke coming in from the Clyde Mountain fire. I think I only got two or three hours of sleep.
It was about 5 o’clock in the morning when a member of the Rural Fire Service knocked on the door. The burly and tired looking fellow pointed over his shoulder at the tree line to the north east which glowed a bright flaring orange. It was apparently coming closer and he calmly told us it was time to leave.
We were already awake, refreshing the Fires Near Me application on her phone because mine had no coverage, and smelling the smoke as it rolled in. We had already packed all our things except the esky before we went to bed on the chance that we would have to evacuate.
About ten minutes later we piled into the car and thankfully the Princes Highway was still open. We decided that there was no point sticking around, so we drove back up to Sydney through the fog-like smoke, listening to the news on the radio as it unfolded. The RFS shut the Princes Highway behind us half an hour later.
Since then, fire has ripped through Mogo and the area around it, threatening a stretch of land from Nowra to the Victorian border and beyond. Back in Sydney it all seems so surreal, but having been so close to it puts things in stark perspective. Hearing that a place you were just in has been put to the torch is scary, and I consider us lucky to have gotten out.
The task ahead for the RFS seems Herculean and I thank them for the extraordinary job they are currently doing. Without the intervention of that helpful stranger who knocked on our door, we’d probably be just another two of those many people stuck on the beach, being driven into the sea by the fires.
If you wish to support the RFS in their fight this summer, please consider a donation. Although they do receive some government funding, it often isn’t enough, and there is always some piece of equipment that needs replacing. Every little bit helps.
https://www.rfs.nsw.gov.au/volunteer/support-your-local-brigade