The fragile line between the gravel and the forrest

by Tahnee Badrock (Australia)

A leap into the unknown Canada

I knew it was something bad as soon as I saw Mark’s face. Panic was written all over it. It was worse, and surprisingly distinguishable from the strain that had been there almost permanently for the last couple of weeks. I jumped out of my seat like it was alight. In a few minutes it was. I had smelled smoke earlier but brushed it off as having come from the forest fires in the region. British Columbia was doing it tough this year. But in receipt of Mark’s ghastly look I now knew my gut was correct. It didn’t really surprise me, given the chain of events to date. I felt almost a numb calm, ready and accepting of the final defeat. While Mark didn’t literally say the word, I knew instinctively what was going on. He told me to get water, and I threw everything else out of the way, scattering our belongings across the gravel in haste to get to it. I remember hearing my breathing. There was no hope. Within seconds of me jumping out of the car a trickle of smoke began to seep under the front bonnet, and soon after it was billowing thick and heavy, dirty smoke. Mark was attempting furiously to get water to the source of the fire, with no success. The flames were licking madly and dangerously under the bonnet and inside the car now, between the two front seats. He frantically threw some more of our stuff out of the back of the car across the gravel, while I stood with our computers and passports in an immovable shock. I didn’t know what to do. Then I started running and screaming. There were two other vehicles in the gravel campsite with us, a caravan and another van like ours. There was also another car park further in off the road, at the head of a hiking trail, more cars there. I rapped my knuckles, and then whole hands, as hard as I could on the van and the caravan, shouting. No one answered. I didn’t really think anyone was inside; the smoke, heat and noise coming from our van now would have been difficult to avoid noticing. I ran to the other car park, yelling again. I felt like a mad woman. There was a couple at the start of the hiking track looking at the maps. My scream alerted them to the chaos behind me. By now the length of the van had engulfed in flames and it looked like an enlarged cast iron fire pit. Black smoke billowed above the flames and small explosion sounds started at random. They took one look at and drove quickly away, with barely an exchange of words. Very soon after another two girls came running out of the forest, they had smelled the smoke and heard bangs. They also sped away in their car, in an attempt to get help. There was nothing to be done here. There was not even phone reception. The following moments were long and surreal. There was no one to be seen, but we knew they were there, hidden in the forest trails. Unseen felt more urgent, scarier. Help was also out of sight, and comprehension. The fire raged upward. I saw what I thought was a burning leaf, what could have been the start of the end. It fell from the closest tree, about ten metres away. Two things were in our favour: we had parked on the gravel and not too close to the trees; and the wind making it hard for our van to climb the mountains earlier, had died down. What I had thought was a burning leaf was ash. It started falling like rain. Over long minutes the fire continued to burn up, not out. The ash rain continued, mimicking the leaves, scary but reassuring. The frail line between the fire and the forest, the van and the people, caught in our throats and stretched the moment, excruciatingly. It did not spread. After the flames reached up, angry and ardent, terrifying, the van burned directly down to the gravelly ground below, our remaining possessions still scattered around, and us. Thankfully us.