At the mercy of the wind

The wind and the fire are the main topics of conversation at the Pigeon Valley cordon. Leaning against utes and chatting on the sidewalk, evacuees catch up.

‘‘So where are you staying?’’ one person asks.

‘‘I could see flames on the other side of the property,’’ another replies.

There’s limited access beyond this point. People who have been evacuated wait patiently, vying for their turn to go home after the massive forest fire started on Tuesday afternoon near tinder-dry Nelson.

Some have managed to get themselves a 20-minute slot to check on their stock and property, escorted by police.

Others haven’t been back since they were told to leave.

It’s the fourth time Pigeon Valley Rd resident James Spencer has visited the cordon since the fire erupted.

‘‘I’ve been pretty proactive, if not a pest,’’ he says.

He’s found that’s the best way to get information. He was evacuated on Tuesday night and estimates his house was about 800 metres from where the fire started.

He managed to get back through the cordon twice on Wednesday, ‘‘just for half an hour, to check stock’’.

Yesterday afternoon, he found an escort to take him in.

Past the cordon, the roads are quiet. It’s a ghost town. The odd fire truck drives by.

‘‘A couple of dead sheep,’’ a driver says to the person in the only other car behind the cordon, after checking his stock.

Blackened hills provide the

backdrop to Spencer’s property. The fire crept within 50m of his property, he says.

Helicopters fly overhead, as they drop monsoon buckets on the hill.

Smoke billows from the hills and patches of forest, hanging thick in the air. Areas where the forest has a brown tinge stand out against the green of the pines.

‘‘It’s better than what it was. It could have been a lot worse,’’ Spencer says.

Pigeon Valley Rd resident Alison White says her fences have been cut for a fire break and the stock has gone wandering. The animals also have diminishing feed. Her stock includes chickens, sheep and dairy cows and they are her greatest concern.

‘‘Because of the cut fences, the number of paddocks that we have are immediately cut in half.’’

Stock has come down the valley, meaning there are twice as many mouths to feed, she says.

Yesterday afternoon, White was waiting at the cordon for a turn to check her property.

‘‘I look at that and think, I’ve got 20 minutes, what’s the most important job? How can I make this work?

‘‘We have to look at our situation and think, ‘well what can I do’. You have to get a grip and be practical.’’

The fires have torn through much of her family’s hillside forestry block.

‘‘When you see the damage, you just feel sorry or those that have put all the work and effort in.’’

South Branch resident Davey Bruce is also waiting at the cordon. He hasn’t been back since he was evacuated on Wednesday morning. He has asked to go up, but hasn’t been allowed.

‘‘If I have to barge my way up there I will,’’ he jokes.

Wakefield resident Donna McGregor is lounging in her ute, waiting at the cordon, trying to go in to check on her stock.

From Wakefield, a suburb on the edge of the fire zone, she could watch the scene unfold.

‘‘It’s scary – I know what fires can do. It’s the wind, we’re at the mercy of the wind,’’ she says.

The fire has spread over 1900 hectares, forced the evacuation of 182 homes and causing an estimated $1 million to $2m worth of damage to forestry.

A State of Emergency has been declared in Tasman, and at least one house has been lost, with others yet to be confirmed, Civil Defence says.