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Post by Admin on Jan 3, 2020 0:55:50 GMT
Australia's PM Scott Morrison had to cut short a visit to a town ravaged by fire after angry locals heckled him over the government's response. Locals said he had done very little to help Cobargo in New South Wales (NSW), where two people died earlier this week and many lost their homes. The PM said he was "not surprised people are feeling very raw". NSW's premier has declared a week-long state of emergency in response to the escalating bushfire threat. Since September, bushfires have killed 18 people and destroyed more than 1,200 homes across NSW and neighbouring Victoria. At least 17 people remain missing after fires this week alone. Thousands of people are already fleeing a vast "tourist leave zone" in NSW, with supplies running low in some cut-off towns. It's been called "the largest relocation out of the region ever". Troops are also preparing to evacuate some of the 4,000 people trapped by fires in Victoria. What happened in Cobargo? Mr Morrison was approached as he visited Cobargo, near the coast in southern NSW. "How come we only had four trucks to defend our town? Because our town doesn't have a lot of money but we have hearts of gold, prime minister," one woman called out. Others joined in as Mr Morrison turned away, calling him "an idiot" and saying he was not welcome. "You won't be getting any votes down here, buddy. No Liberal [party] votes - you're out, son," heckled one man. "What about the people who are dead, prime minister? What about the people who have nowhere to live?" the woman asked Mr Morrison as he was ushered away. Responding later to the hostile reception, Mr Morrison told the ABC broadcaster: "I understand the very strong feelings people have, they've lost everything, and there are still some very dangerous days ahead.
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Post by Admin on Jan 3, 2020 5:50:23 GMT
Our home in the Australian capital of Canberra is among the safest in the nation, as close as it is to Parliament House and the equivalents of the CIA and the Department of State. But on December 30, we jumped in the family car for a road trip and a long-awaited beach vacation. The website for Bega Valley advertised that it was unaffected by the fires, but thinking of those who were. That was still true until the last hour of our drive, when we noticed an enormous column of smoke rising over the mountains to our left. By the time, we’d built sand castles and returned to Room 9 of the Pambula Colonial Motor Inn, the highway we had traveled was closed due to the Werri Berri fire. The other westbound highway was closed due to another new fire, called the Wyndham fire, only 20 kilometers away. And the multiple fires burning to our north and to our south, which had been raging for several weeks, meant that we couldn’t leave. Most of the fires, nearly 100 at the moment, are burning in New South Wales, which is Australia’s California in more ways than one. Although the Australian Capital Territory is nestled into New South Wales, I had been following President Donald Trump’s impeachment a lot more closely than the fires. We’ve had a few fires nearby, but our only real problem has been the smoke, which had forced us to choose between oppressive heat and smoke getting in our house through open windows. On Christmas Eve, we were in Berrima, New South Wales, visiting family when I met an Australian firefighter for the first time. Like much of the firefighting force in Australia, he was a volunteer. Two firefighters, dads with children around the same age as mine, had been killed a few days before. I thanked the man for his service and bravery and expressed my dismay that the government doesn’t do more to support them. He said the Berrima community had donated $30,000 to complete construction on the firehouse after the government had paid for only the outer walls and that the equipment they are using is not up to par. He said that the locals show their support by bringing food, water, and other useful things to the firehouse. “Our favorite is the baby wipes,” he said. “Baby wipes?” “Yeah, because we get covered in soot and water is at a premium, so we don’t want to use that to clean off. The wipes are cool to the touch and it’s just so nice on your face. We carry mini-packs in our pockets.” He told me the temperatures they were facing near the blazes in Celsius, and I couldn’t quite compute, but I remember thinking, “Wow, that’s 10 degrees hotter than Midnight Oil said ‘The western desert lives and breathes.’” Fifty-five degrees Celsius is 131 degrees Fahrenheit.
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Post by Admin on Jan 3, 2020 18:32:42 GMT
The sun had turned red, and it was difficult to distinguish between smoke and clouds. “Clouds,” I decided, as I snapped a photo of the sun hanging above Pambula’s old courthouse. I might well have been wrong. If it was in the United States, Pambula, New South Wales, might be referred to as a one-stoplight town, except that it didn’t have a stoplight. At its center was a roundabout with four little roads for spokes. Each road had shops and restaurants for a distance of 100 to 300 meters. The smell of smoke was everywhere, even in our hotel room. So before putting the kids to bed, I covered the space beneath the door with a heavy blanket. And I crammed in six plastic shopping bags into the built-in space at the top of the window in the bathroom. I went to bed at about 2 a.m., but one of the kids had awakened me at 3 a.m. and I was unable to get back to sleep. I used my phone to check the status of the Wyndham fire, the Werri Berri and Kobargo fires blocking our escape routes, and the Mallacoota fire, which had the potential of hitting us from the south. I also pulled up some general guidelines for fires and emergencies, and I resolved to do two things first thing in the morning: (1) fill the car with gas, and (2) buy nonperishable food and water. When the sun rose at 5:15 a.m., I was still awake. I thought about going out to get gas, but I didn’t, hoping to get back to sleep. I did so around 7 a.m. and at 9:30, I woke to the sight of my 2-year-old son bouncing on my chest. “Wake up, Daddy!” My wife, Ariane, was focused on parenting goals that would fill a typical holiday morning: getting the kids to eat breakfast and getting them outside to play before they went bonkers. But during the night, the fires surrounding us had heaped so much smoke into the air that the sun was not visible in the sky. In fact, nothing was visible beyond 50 meters. So, Ariane’s intended destination was an indoor pool. I went out to the car and found that it was coated with ash. A woman was unpacking her car three stalls over. “What do you think about these fires?” I asked. She said, “Well, have you filled your car up with petrol?” “No,” I said, suddenly remembering my 4 a.m. research. “Well, do that straight away because if we can’t get out, that means the supply trucks can’t get in. The stations will run out soon and then you won’t be able to leave even if you can leave.” She was right. Our tank was low. Although I was feeling anxious, I talked to her a little more and learned that she was worried about friends staying on the campgrounds nearby, including firefighters who were on break from Melbourne. One of them had raced back to Melbourne during the night, fearing that he’d be trapped here and unable to relieve his buddies who would be due for their breaks soon. I thanked her and said goodbye. She offered a final piece of advice: Keep the radio news on at all times. Our daughter still believed we were going to the indoor pool when I strapped her in her car seat, but Ariane and I had already agreed that we’d be going directly to the gas station. There, we found a long line of vehicles stretching most of the length of the very small town. The sight of this, plus thickening orange haze, reminded me of a disaster movie and gave us the first real feeling we were in danger. Ariane broke the news to Audrey. No pool. Julian cried when his mother got out of the car, but it was necessary. While we waited for gas, Ariane walked to Pambula’s lone grocery store and piled a shopping cart with food, water, and diapers. I soon got a text saying that the checkout line snaked through half of the store and that she’d meet us in the motel room in an hour. Later, she told me that the run on food, like the run on gas, had been polite and orderly — but also, seeing the two lines back to back had caused her to inwardly panic. Thirty minutes later, we were only a few cars away from the pump when I saw a man walk up to a truck that was ahead of us. He spoke through the open window and the woman behind the wheel dropped an F-bomb and accelerated out of line. I rolled down my window when she paused to check for oncoming cars. “Did they just run out of gas?” I asked. “They just ran out of diesel,” she said. Minutes later, I’d filled up our tank with unleaded. I asked the manager how close he was to running out. He said, “Soon.”
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Post by Admin on Jan 3, 2020 20:29:01 GMT
Back in the motel, Ariane spent the rest of the afternoon on various devices trying to learn more information about the fires and the road closures. She also beat herself up a bit for having planned the vacation. I said what anyone would have said. The children had been promised a beach vacation; now we were sheltering in place. So Ariane asked me to go out and buy some toys to keep them occupied. “Enough so we can roll them out slowly,” she said, because we might be stuck in a room for days. Pambula is so small that I was able to walk to a drug store, a bakery/cafe, and an art store in minutes. The art store had toys. At the bakery, there was a long line and a sign on the window that said, “Due to current conditions we are closing early. Hope you understand.” The vegetarian pie that Ariane had asked for was sold out, so I bought seven meat pies and a chocolate doughnut. This would be not be the last time that I grossly over-purchased (that evening, I purchased $83 worth of Thai food). But we were preparing for an extended period of sequester, and it was something of a stress relief for me to be able to go out and bring things back to my family. By now the orange, hazy streets were so thick with smoke that it hurt to breathe. As I walked back to the motel, I had a morbid thought. When reading about fire deaths, I had always searched for the words “smoke inhalation” and upon finding them, felt some comfort in thinking that the victims had not been burned to death. Now I realized, smoke inhalation wouldn’t be that great either. My concern deepened when I returned to the hotel room, and Ariane said our room was getting smoky. I had assumed that the air-conditioning unit above the bed was recirculating the air already inside the room, but maybe I was wrong. I called the front desk. Steve, who I’d later learn was the owner/operator, sounded stressed out. “I have a few questions if you have a moment,” I said. “I’ll come to you, won’t be a minute,” he said. Julian was napping, so when Steve knocked, I invited him in and asked him to speak quietly. (I was recording the conversation, by now aware that I’d be writing this piece.) Steve explained that the cold air was coming from the unit outside.
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Post by Admin on Jan 4, 2020 0:15:24 GMT
The fires have already killed at least 17 people, torched more than 13.5 million acres, and destroyed more than 900 homes since September. The blazes made breathing the air in Sydney as bad as smoking 37 cigarettes and have killed 480 million animals, environmental officials told the Times in the United Kingdom, including nearly one-third of the koalas in one of Australia’s most populated koala habitats, an area 240 miles north of Sydney. The fires have triggered more rounds of evacuation orders this week in New South Wales with officials warning of heat, fires, blocked roads, and power outages. NSW Premier Gladys Berejiklian declared a state of emergency in response to the fires earlier in December. The ongoing severe heat is accompanied by brisk winds across much of Australia, worsening fire risks. Wind speeds gusted up to 60 mph on Monday and more strong winds are expected to fan flames and push deadly smoke over major cities. Fire risk in parts of the country will reach “extreme” and “catastrophic” levels on Friday and Saturday, according to Australia’s Bureau of Meteorology. The extreme heat in Australia this week is not just a fluke. There were unique patterns in rain, temperature, and wind that converged this year to scorch the continent, factors that scientists were able to detect in advance. But Australia is also deep in the throes of the accelerating climate crisis, facing not just extreme heat but changes in rainfall patterns. These shifts in turn stand to worsen other problems like drought and wildfires. At the same time, the Australian government is struggling to limit its own contributions to climate change and appease its major greenhouse gas emitters, including its powerful coal mining industry. Taken together, Australia serves as a microcosm of all the complicated ways that climate variables interact. Its weather this year also shows what other parts of the world may face as temperatures continue to rise. So let’s walk through the ingredients of Australia’s heat and wildfires, and how they will likely intensify in the future.
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