Nelson bush fire: I just want this fire to stop, I want rain
The helicopters carrying monsoon buckets through thick smoke over my home of four years is an image I will never forget.
The distressed call I got from my neighbour Katrin telling me the hill behind our houses was on fire left me in no doubt it was a big fire.
But the orange flames licking their way across Sir Stanley Whitehead Park, and the angry plume of smoke my colleague Stu and I saw as we drove down Bridge and Milton Sts, confirmed our worst fears.
An uncontrolled fire had threatened the Wakefield area for four days. Now Nelson was fighting fire on its doorstep.
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"Yeah, it's really bad," I said over the phone to my partner Clinton who was at work in Stoke. (That's the edited version.) "What do you want me to save?"
Squeezing through a civilian manned cordon, we dumped the car and ran up the steep steps to Iwa Rd.
The scene that greeted us was surreal.
Neighbours were dampening properties with garden hoses and Katrin was taking possessions down the steps to her car.
There was panic, but there was calm. It was too close to do much. The angry fire was coming.
My priority was to grab our overweight ginger rescue cat Django. He wasn't in the house.
What do you want me to grab - Stu asked? "I dunno," I said grabbing my passport; "My new Trek mountainbike?"
In a moment of Marie Kondo madness, it was the only thing sparking joy.
There are many moments I could write about. About how futile it feels to hold a low-pressured garden hose to dampen your garden in the face of an oncoming bush fire.
How Clinton - who hates running - had to dump the car and sprinted from Grove St in his white work overalls and gumboots. (He worked until police told him to leave, jamming our downpipes with towels and filling our gutters with water.)
How our neighbour James helped protect our properties. He got so close his shoes partly melted and part of a monsoon bucket was dumped on him.
Or about the stranger Susan who ran towards our street to help us as everyone else ran away. She left her keys and her handbag in her unlocked car on Atawhai Rd.
I could also tell you about the amazing sense of community in our street. Our boundaries are close and we were close before - but this has brought us even closer.
I want to write about how it feels to know this fire was likely deliberately lit. It had so much potential to endanger homes and lives.
I also want to thank the firefighters, the helicopter pilots, the police and the fluro-clad contractors, and the ambulance staff who helped at the scene - thank you.
I could feel the dedication, the focus and the effort that was going into battling that blaze. It was comforting and it was humbling.
There is a lot I could write about, but I won't. Not now, it feels wrong.
Unlike the residents of Wakefield and surrounding valleys - our scare is over. My home is safe and I'm back sleeping in my bed.
I only had a small taste of what they must be going through; the fear, the inconvenience and the uncertainty of when it will end and will their homes or livelihoods be okay.
In the meantime I just want this madness to be over.
I'm tired of going to bed at night not knowing what the morning will bring.
I'm over being on constant alert for signs of smoke.
I'm sick of checking the long range forecast four times a day in the false hope it will have changed and a rain icon has appeared.
I just want our region to come through this without more damage.
I just want all this to end. I just want some good solid rain.
I want normality back.
Stuff