As Australia confronts renewed tragedy in a wildfire emergency of unprecedented scale, the people who rebuilt their lives in Kinglake after losing everything fear a repeat.
“It’s triggering for so many people,” said Michelle French, 53.
That February day in 2009, she and husband Colin and their children Darcy and Vanessa — then ages 11 and 10 — had an hour to gather their belongings. They packed into two cars with their dog and guinea pig and fled. The fire almost trapped them, she said, as they made a six-hour escape along blocked and dangerous roads.
All that remained of the French family’s property — where they operated a school camp business — was a swimming pool and a trailer stacked with canoes. A toilet block was standing but was close to collapse. In all, they lost 15 buildings. The only household items to survive were a red cast-iron pot and one of Colin’s shirts, which hung on a clothesline alongside melted pegs.
The Frenchs have rebuilt the camp facilities and opened an adventure tourism business. But the fires are never far from their lives; in recent weeks, Michelle French has arranged temporary accommodation for evacuees from fire-ravaged areas elsewhere in Victoria state. Among them was a mother with two children — one with asthma — seeking respite from smoke-filled air.
“I know how hard it is to accept help and generosity, but this is also about me — helping someone and doing my bit by paying forward. I got help when I needed it,” French said. “It’s about my healing process too.”
On one recent day they closed the camp because of smoke haze, with the air quality deemed hazardous by environmental officials.
Road to recovery
Sitting at a picnic table with her Hungarian Vizsla dog, Nico, French recounted her family’s recovery.
Her resilience and humor stand out. Nico’s tag reads, “Get your people to call my people,” with a contact number on the back.
“I can’t complain; my kids are killing it,” she said.
Darcy, 22, is studying international relations in Paris. But he’s home for the Australian summer, helping out with his parents’ business.
Wearing a helmet and harness for treetop climbing and ziplining, he refuses to be defined by the fires. He has a tattoo on his thigh with the words “back yourself.”
As a child, Darcy didn’t comprehend the enormity of Black Saturday, which at first he thought was an adventure.
“It was only that night and into the next days that I realized that it was a horrible tragedy,” he said. “At that age, when you find out that people from your school that you were talking to just days earlier had died, and that the dad of one of your best friends has died, you don’t know how to deal with it.”
While the French family has picked up the pieces, others have not.
“There are people at the moment in the community who are at the lowest of the low — I don’t think they can get any lower — and you can trace so much of that back to Black Saturday,” Darcy said.
A University of Melbourne study found that 26 percent of people in the worst-hit areas — about double the national rate — showed signs of mental health problems three to four years after the fires, including post-traumatic stress disorder, psychological distress and depression.
'Our new normal'
On the road to Kinglake, the flag on the new Country Fire Authority station flies at half-staff out of respect for those that have lost their lives, including firefighters.
Some 1,500 firefighters are battling blazes in Victoria as fires that have killed at least 28 people burn across southeastern Australia. The state’s leader, Daniel Andrews, has pledged about $2 million to review preparedness, relief and recovery procedures ahead of the next fire season.
“This is perhaps our new normal — where we’re going to see more and more of this ferocious and unprecedented fire activity coming to us much, much earlier,” he told a news conference in Melbourne on Tuesday.
Kinglake has been rebuilt. There are new brick houses, kindergartens, an architecturally designed church, restaurants and a shopping strip. The community-owned gas station that exploded on Black Saturday has been replaced by a larger, glossy-looking one.
Resident Kym Smith, 56, said her daughter Mykaela, who is now 21, went to 14 funerals after the fires.
“My daughter was a stubborn child, she didn’t want to go to any psychologists,” she said. It wasn’t until an incident much later that she agreed to speak to someone. Mykaela was alone at her boyfriend’s house when a refrigerator caught fire, leaving her inconsolable for hours, she said.
On Black Saturday, Smith, her husband, Brendan, and Mykaela had minutes to flee.
With the power out and the temperature hitting 113 degrees Fahrenheit, they were inside with the blinds down, playing Scrabble by candlelight.
Stepping outside for a cigarette, Brendan heard a sound like a thundering jet, Smith said, and saw flames jump 300 feet into the air as trees exploded along the street.
He ran inside and told his wife and daughter to grab their keys. They fled with no shoes — just the clothes they were wearing, and their dog and rabbit — as they drove away.
“If Brendan hadn’t gone out for a cigarette, we would have been dead,” said Smith.
Smith said her husband was the most traumatized of the family. Defying roadblocks a day later, he passed burned-out cars where people had been trapped and perished.
Back in the town, people gathered, their faces covered in soot. Goats and other animals were tied up to toilet blocks on the main street.
“It looked like a scene from a black-and-white war movie,” Smith said. “There was no color — only shades of gray. Even the white lines on the road were gone.” she said.
Smith said some people urged her to leave Kinglake, but her attachment to the landscape here is strong. The town lies beyond the urban fringe and is bordered by bushland, an environment she said she cannot leave after 33 years.
'We do still live in fear'
In Kinglake West, Deb and Mark Morrow, who lost their house on Black Saturday, say they are again living in a tinderbox.
Regenerated bushland next to their rebuilt home is bone-dry. Between the dead timber and the new growth, Deb worries there is more fire fuel than before Black Saturday.
“The undergrowth is three times as bad as it was in 2009,” she said.
They have a dam that is always full of water. They installed a bore and maintain a buffer zone at the rear of the property, along with firefighting pumps and solar batteries.
They are almost self-sufficient, with chickens and a garden filled with corn, pumpkins and zucchini.
But the fear is always there. The threat of the return of fires has unnerved people in Kinglake. They’ve worked hard to put their town back together.
“We think we can save the property if there’s another fire, but we do still live in fear,” said Deb.