Konsk: The Great Takeover of the Place

50. Fire!

30-30-30

• Temperature 30° and over

• Humidity 30% or below

• Wind-speed 30mph or more

• Fire Risk- Immanent!

Konsk. Appendices: Reasons to be Careful.

“You’re not joking,” Trueman managed, “Are you?”

Rhia just laughed and wheeled one of the bikes over to him.

"It does have an electric motor," she said. "You'll be fine!"

Rhia had followed behind to begin with, to keep an eye on him, stifling a snigger as he wobbled suddenly into the hillside and came to an abrupt halt then barely suppressing a shout of warning when the next swerve took him perilously close to the downhill edge of the track.

"Did you never have a bike as a kid?" She called anxiously.

"No," he managed to mutter through gritted teeth. "I had an electronics kit instead."

"Just relax," she encouraged him, "You'll get to like it!"

Trueman had to admit that after the first half hour of wavering progress as he and his new body came to terms with this unfamiliar means of transport, he did. Soon they were making good progress, following the trail that inclined so gently upwards. Keeping the bikes going required little effort, the easy turn of the pedals provided a gentle rhythm and the tyres rustled softly through the wood chip surface as they wound along the contour, dipping in to the hillside where streams ran downslope, then back out again.

The valley gradually lessened in size as the river below rose towards it source, curving sometimes to the north and back before returning once more to the west. More dwellings would appear on the southern slopes, amidst gardens and orchards then denser blocks of trees cladding the northern faces though there were regular breaks grazed by livestock between hedges and fences running along contours . Always their general direction was west.

They stopped at a small cluster of turf roofed buildings to swap out their bike batteries for fully charged ones and sat at a table to eat oatcakes and drink tea brought to them by a young woman who Trueman had to assume was wearing a pirate costume. She had been working on a bike in the shade of a veranda. Rhia greeted her in the language Trueman couldn't understand, exchanging names, home cantrefi and their purpose for passing through before switching to standard English for his sake.

"We heard you were coming," Megan said, handing them their plates with rather oily hands. She looked askance at Trueman.

"I've been smelling a bit of smoke," Rhia said inquisitively and Megan nodded.

"About ten miles ahead," she explained, "Below The Fell Cantref. Still small, as yet, in the valley bottom."

Rhia nodded. They finished their break and set of.

"Take care!" Megan called after them and Rhia raised a hand.

After another spell of steady pedalling and the valley took a wide sweep north and then almost back the way they had come. The smell of smoke became more pervasive and then they could see a slow billow of grey and white ahead. Someone was standing on the trail and turned as they approached, removed a helmet and came towards them. Trueman's gaze took in the face mask slung over a shoulder, unused as yet, heavy boots and leggings of some sort.

"I'm Swsi¹," she answered Rhia's greeting, " Fire-team co-ordinator for Below The Fell Cantref. You're going to have to wait a while, I'm afraid. She's going to jump the trail anytime now. Probably get up into those crowns," she indicated a block of trees further ahead.

The smoke was rising from below the track still. Trueman could see flickers of yellow as the flames licked through the dry grass of the grazing, breaking into sudden, larger bursts of red as small bushes ignited, crackling more loudly. The fire front looked to be maybe a hundred metres now, leaving a blackened, narrowing strip all the way to the valley bottom. He could see other people, presumably more of the Cantref's fire team, watching this side of the fire, both below and above them. Two more fire fighters on the trail seemed to be handling flexible pipes with sprinklers attached, dampening down the foliage between them and the fire.

Quite suddenly, the flames at the fire front seemed to rise up, reaching forward, greedily lapping around the branches of the trees above. The leaves, dried by the rising heat of the fire, flashed into flames and as the twigs and then branches ignited, a blacker smoke billowed upward and a dull roar began. Instantly they were aware of the radiant heat on their skin.

"You should back off a bit!" Swsi ordered, readying her face mask, "Its gonna get hotter for a while."

Now Trueman looked worried.

"Where's the Fire Brigade?" He wanted to know.

Rhia laughed as they wheeled the bikes back the way they had come.

"They're busy down in the south east," she said, "Conditions are a lot worse there. But it's okay," she stopped herself before going on, "No, I don't mean that. It's not okay but it's burning on a northern slope, so there're no houses or people to worry about." She was quiet for a moment. "Just a lot of wildlife." She sighed. "We'll just have to wait."

They waited in a clearing off the trail for several hours until the fire front had swept across the track and on up the steep valley side, fortunately still more or less contained in its narrow band, only gradually widening into a V as it ascended. Nevertheless, they could feel the intense heat, even at their distance as it consumed all in its path, grasses, shrubs and trees, already grown brittle with drought and now preheated by the flames below.

Despite his supposedly objective, scientific outlook Trueman couldn't help seeing it as a living thing, some sort of beast, a monster, watching the flames actively seeking out oxygen and new food to consume, writhing around the tree crowns and leaping ever higher, leaving a trail of smouldering bodies of larger plants, the black trunks of fire pruned trees, flecked with glowing embers, leaking grey, pungent smoke. The dull roar had risen to a threatening howl and a great cracking and crackling with pops and louder explosions as volatile gases within the fuel exploded. Over the hilltop above them rose a dark, growing plume as it continued its destructive progress casting showers of sparks and embers ahead of itself that in turn sparked off new fires.

Trueman watched, horrified by the speed of its movement.

“Up a steep slope,” Rhia explained, moving to stand beside him. “It moves fastest, even without a breeze.”

“I wouldn't want to be In its way,” he said and shivered.

“You can't run from it,” Rhia agreed, “Getting across slope, out of its path, is your only option.”

“No one tried to put it out.” Trueman said, sounding puzzled.

“We haven't the resources to fight every fire,” the young woman replied. “And anyway, once it gets into the crowns of the trees, it can't be put out. All we can do is try to get everyone out of its way. We're lucky, here, this was mainly rough grazing with blocks of timber and biomass and up there,” she waved to the hill top, “There's blanket bog on the top, so it may die out. Unless it gets a hold in the peat, then it can smoulder for weeks. Otherwise we just have to hope for rain. There is some on the way.”

Trueman looked up at the clear, blue sky, now staining darkly above them with the dense smoke thinking that the prospect of rain sounded a bit doubtful.

“We have to design and build with fire in mind," Rhia explained. "that means firebreaks around the cantrefi, particularly on the most likely approaches a fire will take. Some plants are less likely to burn, though everything will if its hot enough.

She was quiet, as if the thought troubled her, then brightened, "The irrigation systems help with fire control, the watering ditches fed from ponds and lakes above, so we try to keep the soil moist and there's a range of techniques in our building construction. Each cantref holds its own fire drills and there are folk prepared to defend their homes, once they know how, when it's possible; and we design refuges, places of safety, if the worst comes to the worst. Which it does, sometimes.”

She trailed off again.

“Are there many fires?” Trueman felt forced to ask..

“More and more,” she admitted. “Its inevitable, with the temperature still going up every year.”

Trueman felt the sadness in her voice and found that it moved him, too.

“I wish we'd done more,” he said, “In my time.”

“So do we, Grandpa,” Rhia said quietly, hugging herself, "So do we."

She sounded close to tears and Trueman felt a surge of emotion in his chest. He struggled for some moments, swallowing repeatedly and at last felt he had mastered it, enough to speak.

“I'm sorry you have such a challenge to face,” he managed.

“You as well,” she said, gentle releasing herself. “Its not over yet. Besides, we know how to heal the land, or at least, how to help it heal itself.” She waved at the black, smoking scar before them. “And we're at last dealing with the cause. And there are good people to work with; and play.”

She smiled, took his hand and they returned to the relative cool of the shaded clearing, drank water and ate. The smell of wood smoke was ever present, the dull roar gradually lessening as the fire rapidly climbed the slope and passed beyond the summit, leaving only its black pall of smoke visible, towering up into the darkening sky.

It was evening before the fire-team co-ordinator of Below The Fell Cantref, Swsi, judged it safe to allow the two to continue their journey. The track had been raked clear of smouldering embers and dampened down but it was still warm and it was a relief to get passed the smell of burnt vegetation, the blackened, still glowing skeletons of shrubs and trees and once more into shade with leaves still green.

After another stint of steady pedalling, Trueman stopped for a breather and turned to look back at the plume of smoke, now distant and turning white again. A good sign, Rhia explained, that the flames had less fuel to feed on, were probably moving through grasses but her attention was ahead, to the west. Here, a band of clouds, at first low on the horizon were beginning to pile up ominously in mountainous folds with dark undersides, now reddening from the setting sun, as if somehow reflecting the fire.

"We'll need shelter before the night is done," she stated and cycled on, passed Trueman, increasing the pace.

Thanks for reading. As always, comments and suggestions always welcome. More Konsk to come but next probably a weather round-up for 2024; an interesting year here, challenging for conventional gardening and somewhat surprisingly, the actual figures belie the feeling that it was very wet one. Take care all. Hwyl! Chris.

1. Swsi: the w is a vowel something like oo so her name is roughly equivalent to the English Suzie, except an s sound rather than a z.