Just settling
down to write this article, the heavens have opened and 50 mm has
been added to the water table! Thus, I'll be focusing on fires, and
leave the "floods" section for next month, which may possibly
be a bit drier!
Fires are an on going hazard that is never far from our minds. Most
of the lodges are under thatch roofs, which with a mere spark from
a runaway veld fire or even lightning can be reduced to ashes in a
matter of minutes. The most worrisome time of year is during and towards
the end of winter, especially after a previous good wet summer season.
The golden dormant grasses are high and the ground is scattered with
dry leaves and twigs, a veritable tinderbox should one not be prepared.
Out in the bush we take every precaution to prevent a runaway fire
by burning firebreaks and keeping the long grass mown, which slows
down a blaze. The Sabi Sand Wildtuin has a trained team of fire fighters
as well as mobile water bowser that are dispatched to help the individual
landowners protect their properties and in turn the flora and fauna
living there. Fifty-meter strips are cleared at the end of summer
burnt with the wind direction in what is called a cold fire. This
is a fast fire that rids the undergrowth of dry matter, leaving the
relatively moist green shoots and twigs undamaged. The opposite of
this would be a hot burn, which would be used to clear areas of large
trees and is down into the direction of the wind, thus fanning and
heating the "fuel" up.
Depending on the size of individual farms, the larger pieces need
fire breaks in between their boundaries too. In this way, should an
accidental fire start, it can be contained before too much damage
has occurred. Accidental fires could be started in various ways: thatch
collectors temporary camps, poachers setting fires on purpose to cover
their tracks, burning garbage, lightning, or worst of all - controlled
burns getting out of control!
This has happened a few times while we have been running Djuma Game
Reserve and is very scary indeed. A couple of years ago, a fire broke
out in Manyeleti Game Reserve to the north of us, possibly set on
purpose by poachers. Along with the fire came turbulent winds, chopping
and changing in all directions, fanning the flames in an uncontrollable
manner. The general direction was south towards Buffelshoek, a farm
of about 3000 hectares. As hard as the land managers and the fire
fighters tried to back burn and create firebreaks to stop the advancing
flames, it was to no avail. Within hours Buffelshoek was covered in
a black smoky shroud, the ground scattered with white skeletal ashes
marking the places where giant leadwood trees had fallen. The blaze
was eventually brought under control as it entered Gowrie.
A year or so later, a fire broke out in Kruger National park, to the
east of us, and no one escaped the dreadful feeling while watching
the towering smoke plumes beckoning closer to us as the hours marched
on. We were lucky that the KNP managed to get things under control
before too much damage occurred. It is difficult to describe the eerie
orange light that precedes a fire, and it is often accompanied by
pieces of burnt grass falling from the sky.
Naturally we must pay our respects to the eighteen grass collectors
that died in a runaway blaze in the southern KNP a couple of years
ago. It cannot be emphasized enough how suddenly tragedy can occur,
and it does not matter who is responsible, or how a blaze is started,
as the consequences most often have far reaching effects.
On a lighter note, the savanna is an ecosystem that relies on fires
to regenerate and in some species necessitates seed germination. Many
of the trees have fire resistant bark, and so long as the fire is
cool enough, they survive the blaze without a problem. Within a day
or so after the first rains have fallen, the burnt patches are covered
in the lime green of new growth. The grazers pack the area in great
numbers to feed on the succulent shoots. We also often see ground
hornbills and other birds pecking at the undergrowth looking for insects,
small reptiles and rodents that have also been attracted by the post
burn bounty.
Back in camp, we have had to deal with a couple of fires, the worst
of which happened at Bush Lodge back in 1997. The guests had just
left on their afternoon safari, when Esther Mkansi popped down to
the dining area to set the tables for dinner. There she saw smoke
billowing out from under the thatch eves.
For those of you that are unfamiliar with the design of the main building
you may benefit from a brief description. It is basically a 25-meter
long, 8-meter high-pitched thatch roof covering three levels. From
ground level one could go up onto a timber landing and then out on
either of its sides onto timber decks. Alternatively, one could go
down paved steps into the dining, kitchen, and scullery area. On this
bottom level, which was also open to the bush on either side, and
in the centre of the space was a metal Jet master fireplace, its chimney
stretching up through the floor of the upper deck and then through
the thatch roof. The upper reaches of the chimney had an insulting
layer of fibreglass matting and then an outer sleeve of sheet metal.
This was there to prevent people burning themselves and supposedly
to stop the thatch igniting!
It just so happened that after years without checking on the inner
insulation, it all but disintegrated up in the pitch of the roof.
We guess that the accumulated heat of fires down below had made the
thatch dry and brittle and in turn may have ignited some spider webs
that then set the thatch alight. Due to the steep pitch of the roof
and the damp conditions weather wise, the flames were trapped at the
top right along the length of the building.
Quick thinking from Campbell, he dug up and cut through the main water
supply from the borehole, connected another piece of PVC pipe and
started pumping water straight onto the roof as well as under it.
Just as the flames were brought under control to a smouldering state,
another flare up would occur. Eventually at around midnight we managed
to quell the disaster.
In the mean time the unsuspecting guests were diverted to a "surprise"
dinner destination at Gowrie Camp, where Vuyatela stands today. The
first they knew of the blaze was the following morning when they woke
up to find the entire lounge, dining room and kitchen contents out
on the front lawn in front of what looked like an intact main building!
The sum total of the damages was about a meter square of thatch that
needed replacing and two coffee table books that had water damage.
We got off lucky that time and now have more permanent fire control
precautions in place. Naturally the fireplace and chimney have been
removed and lie rusting in the workshop, a reminder of that terrible
experience.
Join us next month for some "wet" tales.
Philippa Moolman
