Human drama is a great tonic for those moments when life seems to slow down a bit too much. Fighting a house fire can do that for you. It’s physically demanding, its dangerous even under the best of conditions and you seldom have control over any of the variables. Yesterday’s fire at a waterfront home was in an awkward location where apparatus could not get close enough to be effective. Tankers, shuttling water to the only pumper able to get close enough, had to back up for almost a kilometer on a soft country road barely wide enough for the rear tires.
A 200 lb. gas-operated water pump was carried through the bush, across a railroad track and down an embankment and finally placed onto a dock, fired up to provide two 95 gallon-per-minute hand lines to firefighters anxious to cool down the blaze which, by this time, had consumed all the roofing, most of the walls on the second floor.
It wasn’t long before I remembered why I’m not fond of fighting fires in the summer: bunker suits don’t come in a “summer version.” My clothing quickly became drenched with perspiration and, despite drinking several liters of water and juice, I didn’t have worry about scurrying into the bushes for a “bio break” until the middle of the afternoon.
In the end, we fought a losing battle, arriving on scene perhaps two hours after the fire likely started and just before it was about to flashover. The home, a hodgepodge of renovations and additions made over 40 or 50 years, was totally gutted. Fire travelled quickly through dead floor space, false roof structures and wood-paneled walls. All that remained, aside from some charred books, a steel piano frame and a few wood stoves, was the blackened shell, bits of smoldering charcoal and the cinder-block foundation. A family’s entire lifetime of memories, possessions, household effects gone in a mere half-day window.
I went home, exhausted, sore and limping from ill-fitting rubber boots, just in time for dinner. Others worked through the evening and night putting out little flare-ups. I felt lucky to have a home to return to.