WHY FIRE ENGINES ARE SO CLEAN AND SMART
As winter comes to an end, the fashion on this blighted grassland is to ignite it. All and sundry are permitted to burn with impunity till the end of July, after that NO….. it is verboten! So naturally every nutter with a match, myself included, rushes out to light his or her bit of the environment while they can.
There are 2 principle justifications for this strange activity, the first being to burn fire breaks, which is universally acknowledged as the cause of at least 90% of all run away fires, and the second is to have the grass ready for early rains to get fresh growth for our animals, which is the cause of the rest, all others being a complete mystery.
Being a man with cows I wished to have grass as early as possible for the mumbies and what with all the activity building dams and running cable and piping ditches all over the farm there was a situation which seemed ideal for a nice safe fire over a 50 plus hectare section, so assembling the team and with a good plan in mind we set about it.
THE CUNNING PLAN
Madota 1& 2 (young men) with backpack, fire squirter and milie cob in diesel, were to light the fire along the ditch which would allow them, in theory, to slowly go around the area in mind with the ditch holding the fire within the specified area.
Thinking that all was in hand (never do that) I started to back light the fire to burn into the fire that the lads were setting, so far so good, we got a bit of a thrill when the pile of leaves and branches from a recently felled blue gum went up, but all seemed well in hand and I looked like it was going to be a beautiful fire.
THE CUNNING PLAN GOES QUICKLY WRONG
I watched as the lads disappeared around the hill, their trail of smoke, marking their progress, when the phone started to ring, country life has changed a lot with the advent of cell phones, allowing instant communication from one side of the farm to the other.
“BOSS BOSS the fire it has jumped” came the frantic appeal, so with the confidence of a chap with a state of the art fire fighting machine on the back of his pick up, I charged around to their side of the hill and with swift efficiency settled their problem, I felt powerful!
Then the cell went off again!
“BOSS BOSS it has jumped!!!” the cry came from the ladies doing the washing, on the other side of the fire and once again I went to the source of panic and was able to contain the conflagration with great efficiency.
Now it is one of the strange things about grass fires but they seem to attract their own wind. One can light a fire in absolutely still air and the very second that you strike a match, the wind comes up like an avenging angel, this disagreeable situation when combined with the stumps, still abounding from the old plantations, having the tendency to smolder, and send off sparks, we suddenly had a situation where all was going wrong, as fires are won’t. We had little fires springing up in a random fashion all down the fire line as bits of burning blue gum stump played with our minds. A fire is not out, till it is stone cold dead, rule 5a of the country code.
The first intimation of doom was the swift realization that a smart shiny fire engin that could not get to where the fire is, circumvents all the best plans of mice and men.
We were reduced to backpacks, very heavy and they run out fast, and the ubiquitous flapper, still the most reliable and handy bit of kit, but warm work. We soldiered on and the power hose was, on the wings of desperation, driven over rocks, logs and fire to where it was needed, we cleared and killed all the errant stompies getting very black and manly in the process.
We had come seen and conquered surely?
I had the kit! I was THE MAN???
So I did not quite roll up the hose as well as I should, and when I got to the next stump in the clean up, the hose was trapped under the water tank, so no wata! HOW!
I managed to huff and puff that and then the wota she runs out, not good but thankfully we had got the fire under some control, and I could return to base to fill up. Let me tell you it takes forever to fill a tank especially when you see plumes of smoke where no plumes should be, and the cell phone is hemorrhaging missed calls indicating situations of fright which required IMMEDIATE attention.
Then suddenly the pump did not want to start! Panic pulling at a motor never works, the buggers pick up on your fear and won’t start, or so it seems at those times, thankfully the enjin she was still shiny and new and just played with my mind for a moment or two before roaring back into action.
Then I neglected to put the sprayer in its slot and that nearly created a disaster, which is why when dealing with fire the first rule is be prepared and do things right or you will get bitten in the bum.
There are 2 principle justifications for this strange activity, the first being to burn fire breaks, which is universally acknowledged as the cause of at least 90% of all run away fires, and the second is to have the grass ready for early rains to get fresh growth for our animals, which is the cause of the rest, all others being a complete mystery.
Being a man with cows I wished to have grass as early as possible for the mumbies and what with all the activity building dams and running cable and piping ditches all over the farm there was a situation which seemed ideal for a nice safe fire over a 50 plus hectare section, so assembling the team and with a good plan in mind we set about it.
THE CUNNING PLAN
Madota 1& 2 (young men) with backpack, fire squirter and milie cob in diesel, were to light the fire along the ditch which would allow them, in theory, to slowly go around the area in mind with the ditch holding the fire within the specified area.
Thinking that all was in hand (never do that) I started to back light the fire to burn into the fire that the lads were setting, so far so good, we got a bit of a thrill when the pile of leaves and branches from a recently felled blue gum went up, but all seemed well in hand and I looked like it was going to be a beautiful fire.
THE CUNNING PLAN GOES QUICKLY WRONG
I watched as the lads disappeared around the hill, their trail of smoke, marking their progress, when the phone started to ring, country life has changed a lot with the advent of cell phones, allowing instant communication from one side of the farm to the other.
“BOSS BOSS the fire it has jumped” came the frantic appeal, so with the confidence of a chap with a state of the art fire fighting machine on the back of his pick up, I charged around to their side of the hill and with swift efficiency settled their problem, I felt powerful!
Then the cell went off again!
“BOSS BOSS it has jumped!!!” the cry came from the ladies doing the washing, on the other side of the fire and once again I went to the source of panic and was able to contain the conflagration with great efficiency.
Now it is one of the strange things about grass fires but they seem to attract their own wind. One can light a fire in absolutely still air and the very second that you strike a match, the wind comes up like an avenging angel, this disagreeable situation when combined with the stumps, still abounding from the old plantations, having the tendency to smolder, and send off sparks, we suddenly had a situation where all was going wrong, as fires are won’t. We had little fires springing up in a random fashion all down the fire line as bits of burning blue gum stump played with our minds. A fire is not out, till it is stone cold dead, rule 5a of the country code.
The first intimation of doom was the swift realization that a smart shiny fire engin that could not get to where the fire is, circumvents all the best plans of mice and men.
We were reduced to backpacks, very heavy and they run out fast, and the ubiquitous flapper, still the most reliable and handy bit of kit, but warm work. We soldiered on and the power hose was, on the wings of desperation, driven over rocks, logs and fire to where it was needed, we cleared and killed all the errant stompies getting very black and manly in the process.
We had come seen and conquered surely?
I had the kit! I was THE MAN???
So I did not quite roll up the hose as well as I should, and when I got to the next stump in the clean up, the hose was trapped under the water tank, so no wata! HOW!
I managed to huff and puff that and then the wota she runs out, not good but thankfully we had got the fire under some control, and I could return to base to fill up. Let me tell you it takes forever to fill a tank especially when you see plumes of smoke where no plumes should be, and the cell phone is hemorrhaging missed calls indicating situations of fright which required IMMEDIATE attention.
Then suddenly the pump did not want to start! Panic pulling at a motor never works, the buggers pick up on your fear and won’t start, or so it seems at those times, thankfully the enjin she was still shiny and new and just played with my mind for a moment or two before roaring back into action.
Then I neglected to put the sprayer in its slot and that nearly created a disaster, which is why when dealing with fire the first rule is be prepared and do things right or you will get bitten in the bum.
posted by Francis at 11:21 PM
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