The other side of summer

Pigeon Valley is a sickening blow. Shocking and traumatic for those caught in the middle of the maelstrom and exhausting for those tasked with fighting it.

‘‘There’s malice and there’s magic in every season.’’

And so sang Elvis Costello in The Other Side of Summer.

The fires raging in Pigeon Valley might just be the other side of summer he was talking about.

This summer has been a reliably hot one. Days on end of 30+ temperatures, hot nights, crowded beaches and bleeding asphalt.

The sort of summer that feels like it’s been an elusive thing in recent years so it’s a welcome change, it bodes well for a warm autumn and a mild winter.

But as the temperatures soar so does the fire risk and a climbing sense of dread.

We can no longer deny we now live in an age of climate change and more frequent climate disasters.

With the fire danger rising to extreme, everyone has been holding their breath that we’d make it over the line this year.

We didn’t. Pigeon Valley is a sickening blow. Shocking and traumatic for those caught in the middle of the maelstrom and exhausting for those tasked with fighting it.

We haven’t been let down on that front. Our emergency services have acted quickly and decisively and the fact that there has been no loss of life and minimal property damage is remarkable for a disaster of this scale.

This is a massive effort and simply managing the logistics of tackling a fire spread over such a large area is a staggering task. Not to mention that these people are putting themselves in harm’s way.

We owe a huge debt to their dedication. From the firefighters and police on the frontlines, to the volunteers keeping them fed and helping out the displaced.

The fire is still flaring up. In a matter of days we hope it’s brought to heel and the costs can then be counted.

But without significant rain the risk of other fires breaking out remains and we have to be mindful of that.

Without diminishing the impact of the Pigeon Valley fire, it is in a forestry block with a sparse scattering of residential properties.

Put in perspective, the recent Woolsey fire in the US killed three, burned about 100,000 acres and destroyed 1500 structures in and around Malibu. The current Tasmanian fires have so far consumed over 190,000 hectares.

The 2017 Port Hills fires destroyed nine houses and caused the death of a helicopter pilot.

We are vulnerable here. Entire suburbs in Nelson and Tasman sit nestled in the bush and should any of this go up, the potential for loss is considerable.

There’s heightened awareness of the need for vigilance over possible sources of ignition, but control is a bit of an illusion when just a spark can start a firestorm.

There’s a fair degree of luck at play but the trouble with luck is that eventually it runs out. Australia has to contend with dry lightning storms and that truly is nature’s cruel way of reminding us we don’t call the shots.

So we’re left with a few weeks of summer to enjoy but also the constant fear that, until the rains come, we’re not out of the woods. The season still has plenty of sting left in its tail.