Australian village scorched by wildfires struggles with loss

Ash Graham’s dog, Kozi, wakes him at 8 a.m., er for his morning walk. n Graham realizes he was dreaming and gets up from one-man tent he’s been sleeping in each night since a wildfire swept through his vill on New Year’s Eve.

Graham, a volunteer firefighter, resumes his weary search for Kozi: hiking south down dried-up creek bed, past wallabies that were burned to death as y fled fire, kcking on doors, trying to keep track of grids he’s alrey covered.

Graham’s Austrian wife, Melanie, died from cancer a year or so ago, and his house burned down in Dec. 31 fire. His truck and his few belongings are with him in yard of fire station, last place he saw Kozi. Graham h left his dog at station and was driving around warning people to leave when 3-year-old Kozi bolted as flames approached building.

“He’s my little man. He’s been re for me,” Graham said his face crumpling. “I can’t give up, really, until I find him.”

Graham’s tiny vill of Nerrigundah in souastern Australia has been among places hardest hit by country’s devastating wildfires, with about two-thirds of homes destroyed. A man in his 70s who lived near vill was killed in disaster — one of 27 lives claimed by wildfires, which also have destroyed more than 2,000 homes.

Like many small communities in Australia that have been scorched by wildfires, Nerrigundah will never be same.

Once a thriving gold mining town with over 1,000 people, vill, located in New South Wales state, has lately been home to just a few dozen who love peace of Australian bush, a place far from bustling cities where dogs can run free. But w a landmark building that was once a store has burned down. vill’s old schoolhouse is also gone, and so is building that used to be church.

wildfire caught Nerrigundah by surprise after it was expected to hit a day or two later. And body could believe its ferocity.

Threlfall family home was one of only a half dozen houses to survive. Outside stands an exploded gas canister, its sides peeled open like arms seeking an embrace. stone sculptures me by Ron Threlfall, fire captain, that depict people in anguish w have scorch marks running up ir sides.

Skye Threlfall, 21, who was home for Christmas holidays along with her two siblings, said she woke up at 4 a.m. on New Year’s Eve.

“My mum was screaming to us, and n we all ran out and looked up at sky over here and it was just red,” she said. “You could see flames up in re, and it was just roaring.”

She said fire closed in like a storm. She screamed at her sister to come to car, terrified she wouldn’t make it.

Across or side of town, Lyle Stewart, 65, was retching from thick black smoke as he tried to save his house by dousing it with water. n his hose caught fire.

“I thought, ‘Time’s come,’” Stewart said.

But he and his buddy me it to Stewart’s car. air conditioning helped filter gunk y were breathing. It took m 90 minutes to drive short distance to fire station as y used a chainsaw to cut through a half dozen flaming trees that h fallen across ro.

Skye Threlfall and her sister also me it to fire station. But inside, howling winds buckled roller doors off ir supports.

“Embers were just flying through,” Threlfall said.

Residents leaned up against doors, trying to keep fire out. Marilyn Brennan poured water on embers as y blasted through, n retreated to a back room with some of ors.

“Down on ground, hugging each or, hoping like hell we’d get out,” she said.

Townsfolk credit sprinkler system installed on exterior of fire station a few years back for saving m. Such sprinklers aren’t standard at rural fire stations, but town h raised money for its own.

Residents are still coming to terms with what y have lost. Stewart, who moved here in 1985, h just finished restoring a caravan that has been reduced to ash. n re are thousands of comics his son h collected and that he was storing. What really irks him, he jokes, is carton of Victoria Bitter beer he’d just bought and hn’t taken a single drink from.

“This is everything we’ve worked for for last 35 years, gone,” he said.

He doesn’t kw wher he’ll return.

“My wife and I don’t want to leave here. But when you get older it’s a bit different, too. I’m t as fit as what I was when I was 35,” he said.

Brennan and her husband, Colin, said y’re planning to rebuild.

“I’ll be back,” Colin Brennan said. “This is home. This is where I live. This is me, here. I’ve got a life.”

Skye Threlfall said she hopes community survives and rebuilds, but she kws that quite a few people won’t return.

“It’s just scary because you don’t want to go through this again,” she said.

Graham said he plans to cut down some trees on his property to make it safe so he can set up his camp trailer. He keeps meaning to leave from fire station yard, although he can’t quite bring himself to do it just yet. And he said that Nerrigundah is home.

“I’ll never move,” he said.

But n he considers it a bit more. A roofer by tre, Graham worked all sorts of jobs before spending six years caring for his wife before she died. He said maybe he could spend some time in Austria, where Melanie is buried, or maybe in Australia’s Swy Mountains, where air is cooler.