Hail Merry

Wasn't It Sunny A Few Minutes Ago?

Photographs copyright: DAVID McMAHON

On Wednesday evening it was bright and sunny at 4pm - but things had changed drastically in just over an hour, as you can see from this photograph.

They weren't kidding when a wild weather warning was issued for Melbourne that afternoon. I had had just exited off the freeway when the sleet turned to a fierce hailstorm.

This was shot a few seconds after I parked in my driveway, just as dusk turned to night.

Yes, I live in a city with hugely fluctuating weather. On Christmas Day 2006, it was several degrees colder in Melbourne than it was in London or New York - and December is our summer!

And a few years ago, we had snow on Christmas Day, while Victoria was battling bushfires!

Visit TNChick's Photo Hunt. Today's theme: "Surprise''.

First Of The Winter Buds

Yes, There’s Beauty In Grey Starkness

Photograph copyright: DAVID McMAHON

This shot of a weeping cherry branch was taken last weekend, just after we crossed the halfway point of our Australian winter. The isolated leaves, furled tight and crisp, are a stubborn reminder that sometimes not all foliage falls to the ground.

As I lined up the shot and even after I had put the camera away, I resisted the impulse to reach out and touch the leaves, which I imagine would have felt as brittle as centuries-old parchment.

I often get asked just how cold Melbourne gets in winter. It’s colder than Sydney but not as cold as Canberra, where sub-zero nights are par for the course.

But we often get ice on the car and heavy frosts are common as well – which is precisely why I prune my roses later than most people. Why? Because there’s not much sense in subjecting tender new shoots to cruel frost.

But yes, there was a recent snowfall that attracted a lot of attention –because it blanketed Kinglake, one of many areas here that were destroyed by the February bushfires. Maybe it was a special, symbolic reassurance from Nature.

Visit MamaGeek and Cecily, creators of Photo Story Friday.

Gone With The Wind

The Weekend The World Will Never Forget

Photographs copyright: DAVID McMAHON

Last Saturday, the pre-dawn heat was so oppressive that I wondered if we would get a colourful sunrise. There were still scattered clouds around from the previous night, holding false promise of rain. They had delivered no moisture, not a drop for this parched land.


For about five or six minutes, the sky was a riot of colour just before the sun broke free of the horizon. As I worked to get the best views of the clouds, I could not help thinking how much they looked like flames on high. The fire danger was high, with Victoria baking in the third straight day of 43-plus Celsius (110 Fahrenheit) temperatures.


After I shot the first two images in this sequence, I noticed a circular series of puffs of pink cloud behind me in the west, like ack-ack bursts that had been Photoshopped on a cartoon strip. The beauty came and went quickly.

It was to be the hottest day ever recorded in Melbourne, with the mercury topping out at 46.4 Celsius in the city proper. And it was a day that would go down in history for more than one reason.


The fires started after lunchtime, taking hold quicker than fire crews could cope with them. Not only were they more ferocious than anything our firefighters had seen before, they travelled infinitely quicker, fanned by a roaring gale-force northerly wind.

The media now refers to that cataclysmic day as Black Saturday.

These next shots (below) were taken the following evening, as the nation struggled to cope with the scale of destruction and human loss. Just to put it in context, the death toll from the fires is set to rise higher than the overall toll from the recent Mumbai terror attacks.


The dusk colours cloaked the evening sky for only a few minutes, bold brush strokes across the landscape. The weather was noticeably cooler and the breeze had swung round to the south, but the state was still ringed by blazes.


For a state struck by fear and sorrow, there was some fleeting comfort in Nature's farewell to the weekend no one will ever be able to put out of their memory.


To find out why there is no sound after a bushfire has swept through, check out the photos and explanation at my earlier post D Is For Desolation.

For other participants in Dot’s concept, go to Sky Watch HQ.

D Is For Desolation

The Savage Beauty Of A Bushfire Landscape

Photographs copyright: DAVID McMAHON

The first thing that strikes you when you walk through an area after a bushfire is just how quiet it is. There are no bird calls. The sounds of the Australian bush have vanished. There is not even the sound of wind.

There is nothing. Just the smell of residual smoke, the odour of burnt gums and eucalypts and the sight of blackness everywhere.

There are no bird calls because there are no nests left. The sounds of the Australian bush have gone because the animals have disappeared and the cicadas have not returned - simply because there is nothing for them to return to.

And why can we not hear the wind? Because there is no rustling. Can you guess why there is no rustling? Because there are no leaves. Just as beautifully crafted wood provides the sounding board for a grand piano, the leaves around us are what make us aware of the breeze we cannot see.


Several bloggers asked me last week what happens to wildlife in a fire. Those animals and birds that can move swiftly manage to escape. Those that cannot, perish in the flames or are claimed by the intense radiant heat that accompanies a bushfire.

Even some animals that escape the area in which they live are sometimes claimed by the fire because flames move so quickly and because flying embers, blown ahead of the forefront by intense winds, start new blazes that advance in several new directions.


Any bushfire zone also contains injured animals. These are now cared for swiftly, because of an initiative between the Country Fire Authority (CFA) and accredited volunteers. In the past, it was difficult for volunteers to enter a bushfire zone because of several operational reasons - not the least being their own safety - but this has changed.


Today, the trees are black carcasses. It is as if I stand alone in the forest of Hades.

The bushfire that swept through here last week claimed everything. Like all wildfires, it was capricious. It jumped a road, it burnt along a fence line, but here and there are little havens of greenery where the wind changed and blew the fury of the flames away.

These images were shot at dusk on Monday, in the Churchill National Park area of southeast Melbourne. I rang the Country Fire Authority (CFA) and the police before I headed off to take these photographs. I left my contact details and vehicle registration with them.

Why? Not just for safety, as there is a far more important reason. With arson suspected as the cause for some of Victoria’s fatal bushfires, I do not want anyone to mistake me for a firebug.

My son points out a sign that has been burnt. I turn the car back and photograph the scars. Not only is the wooden support post damaged, but the fire has eaten through the metal as well.


One of the broader trees near the Churchill Park gold course has obviously been marked out for some kind of attention. Around its trunk it sports distinctive red-and-white tape bearing the letters DSE, for the Department of Sustainability and Environment.

The tape is upside down. Little details like this do not matter in a bushfire zone, where experts must assess the charred remains quickly. The red-and-white tape stands out like a beacon among the twisted black tree limbs.


The sun is setting now. There can only be hope that tomorrow will bring cooler weather and some respite for the volunteer CFA firefighters who are our guardian angels.

But here in the black landscape, there is an invisible miracle of which we cannot yet see tangible evidence. There will soon be regrowth occurring.

Strange though that might seem, it is true. The seed pods of these native Australian trees are only opened by intense heat. A bushfire is nature’s way of regeneration. In a fortnight or so, there will be a new leaf here, a tentative young branch there.

The landscape will reveal patches of growth. By mid-autumn, this place will be a concerto of colours and there will be fresh green emerging from the blackened trunks.

Tomorrow, as they say in the classics, is another day.



For the home of ABC Wednesday, go to Mrs Nesbitt's Place.

A Nation In Deep Mourning

Victoria Reels After The Weekend Of Armageddon

Photographs copyright: DAVID McMAHON

From the bottom of my heart, thank you to all of you who asked if my family is safe. Yes, we are. I have been deeply touched by the scores of emails and comments asking about our safety. As far as possible I have replied personally to every single query. If I missed anyone, my apologies ... but please pray for those who have been hard hit by the fires.

Just to give you an update, this is the worst natural disaster in modern Australian history. No question about it. The previous watersheds were the Ash Wednesday bushfires of 1983 and, prior to that, Cyclone Tracy on Christmas Day 1974. These pointers are a summary of what has happened since the blazes broke out on Saturday afternoon ....

• 173 dead, the worst bushfire toll in Australia’s history
• 750 homes destroyed and thousands homeless
• At least four children, possibly more, among the dead
  
• Hundreds of refugees flock to Red Cross centres
• Two towns obliterated, Marysville declared a crime scene
  
• Eyewitnesses use a common description: "Armageddon"
• Alfred Hospital, major trauma centre, runs out of morphine
• Fires still burning out of control, despite cooler weather
• Authorities warn some fires could take weeks to contain
• News Limited donates $1 million to Bushfire Appeal
  

Sometimes you see a familiar face when you don't want to. During Sunday night's television coverage of the Black Saturday bushfires, we caught a brief but unmistakable glimpse of someone who recently befriended us.

We met because of his easy humour and his wide grin - and both those sterling qualities were strongly in evidence during his dramatic moments on the nation's television screens.

In July last year, I had just flown into Langkawi, Malaysia, with my family and we were at a resort pool when a big, burly bloke slipped off his perch in the pool bar. He came back up again none the worse for wear, but announced loudly to his wife: "That's the first time I've ever fallen off a bloody bar stool and not hurt myself''.

He had a huge grin on his face.

I spluttered with laughter.

"Fair dinkum, mate,'' he announced, looking in my direction and extending an introductory handshake. "I could get used to this.'' His name was Steve and he introduced me to his wife nearby.

He had a huge grin on his face.

In the space of the next few minutes, we realised that we shared a common link. He was from Melbourne too - and we exchanged notes about just how cold the Victorian capital was when we flew out.

A few minutes later, I excused myself, saying I had to go to the airport, just a few minutes' drive away.

"Airport?'' he asked, "didn't you just get here?''

I nodded. But I explained I was going to collect my mother-in-law, who was flying in from Singapore to spend a few days with us.

He was incredulous. "Mother-in-law? Mate, you're a better bloody man than I am.''

He had a huge grin on his face.

Every time our paths crossed in the resort, Steve would greet us warmly and tell us what a great time they were having in the tropical heat, so far away from the winter frost of Melbourne. When we bumped into each other in the town centre, he would tell us where the best bargains were to be had.

He had a huge grin on his face.

Late on Sunday night, we were about to switch off the television when we saw a familiar face and heard a distinctive voice. It was Steve. He and his family had lost everything they owned. A cellar had saved their lives as the firestorm passed over them.

They had lost everything. But he told the TV interviewer that they were still alive, so they would probably crack open a good bottle of wine to celebrate.

He must have been distraught. He must have been in shock. He and his wife and their kids were probably struggling with their emotions, with the heat, with the fatigue and with the realisation that they had survived Victoria's most deadly bushfires.

But he still had a grin on his face. This time, however, it was only a wry grin.


Visit the creative team behind That's MyWorld Tuesday.

Smoke On The Water

Fire In The Sky

Photographs copyright: DAVID McMAHON

During a bushfire, the sky is always endowed with vivid colours. Last summer, when fires ringed Victoria, I took these shots from Princes Bridge here in Melbourne. There was a brooding sky that looked as if someone had dropped a can of Chrome Yellow paint all across its expanse.

As the sun rose through the heavy cloud and the thick smoke that choked the city, it seemed devoid of any recognisable shape. I shot half a dozen frames very quickly, moving from the St Kilda Road end of the bridge to the other side, near Flinders Street Station.

The timing was perfect because I was able to compose several shots of the dramatic sunrise against the tall trees that fringe the Alexandra Gardens. Then, when I was halfway across the bridge, I realised I could shoot a vertical frame to include the historic boatsheds and the glow of the sky reflected in the surface of the Yarra River.