With the first anniversary of last summer's shocking fires approaching across the nation, our reporters have revisited those affected so directly. This, from the Nambucca Guardian News on the NSW Mid-North Coast, plots the one woman's journey through a hellish experience.
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Robyn Melvaine made her tree-change to the Nambucca Valley in December 2014 - two days before Christmas.
She'd been given a redundancy two years before her intended retirement. She still had a sizeable loan to repay after previously buying her sister's share of their mother's Arncliffe house, and so her new financial circumstances dictated a move.
At the time life seemed to present her with two options: "more of the same" by downsizing to an apartment in Sydney, "or an adventure" in the bush.
When an email advertising 'Shambala Sanctuary' on McHughs Creek Rd, South Arm, popped into her inbox, Robyn felt the pull of fate.
According to the previous owner, there were five different energy spots on the 51.4 hectare property - "like the energy you experience when you're in the presence of Uluru," Robyn, who had definitely felt it, said.
The house was an A-frame design, built around 1986, "and when you went out on to the balcony you were in line with the treetops".
Despite moving to such a large and secluded property all on her own, she said she often felt a sense of peace and serenity there. Although, she never really warmed up to the snakes.
"I had a vision - I thought it would make a wonderful Bikram Yoga retreat. But it kind of got beyond me - it was probably too much to do on my own," she said.
"I don't think I would have managed at all if it wasn't for some good neighbours."
In 2018, after four years solo in South Arm, Robyn had considered selling. Then one of her sons came to live with her and they worked on the property together.
"I could see it was making him happy, and the place was becoming beautiful - it made me want to stay," she said.
Just twelve months later, the fiery fingers of fate forged another fork in her path.
The Kian Rd fire was ignited by an electrical storm in October. For two weeks the residents up the top end of South Arm watched as choppers whirred overhead.
At night you could see the fire like a necklace around the throat of the mountain.
- Robyn Melvaine
"You'd see the flames every night and I think we got a bit complacent really - because the helicopters were doing such a good job waterbombing.
"We had a bag packed ready to go, but that's about it. And when you pack to leave, you don't really know what to take. You just don't really prepare yourself for not going back."
Robyn attended a bushfire preparedness meeting put on by the RFS at the South Arm Hall just one week prior to that fateful Friday.
"I only had one question: how do you know when to leave?" she said.
The information she received could very well have saved her life.
"I was told to watch for two things: if the wind changes and starts blowing towards us; and if the colour of the smoke starts to get dark, then it's time to leave," she said.
"And that's exactly what happened that day."
By midday the strong southerly gusts had taken on a menacing edge, and only an hour or two later Robyn's son, Bryce, came back with the news the winds had changed - it was time to go.
The pair reached the hall where they decided to wait - people who'd heard that 'the whole valley was on fire' were frantically racing back to their families and properties at alarming speeds, making it dangerous to leave the area by road.
When they eventually got away and headed to Bowraville, Robyn could see a line of fire arcing along the whole western ridge - "it was everywhere".
They made three separate attempts that night to find accommodation with friends - one was away, another lived along North Arm Rd and the thought of staying that close to the fire's warpath made Robyn nervous, the third couple was at the movies.
Even as they settled down for the night in Bowraville, sleep was fleeting. Every gust of wind sent jolts of adrenaline through them.
The next day they were warned it was too perilous to try to return to Shambala. Trees had fallen over the road, other trees were coming down left, right and centre, and a bridge had been burnt out.
It was a full week before they were able to venture back and see what - if anything - remained of their former life in South Arm.
Robyn heard it on good authority from a neighbour that the house was still standing after the fire front came through - though the roof had been smouldering.
But when they reached the top of the driveway nothing but rubble remained. The house hadn't been able to stand up to the ember attacks that followed; Robyn knew the chances were slim, she was always having to sweep up rogue leaves that had blown in through cracks under the doors.
Robyn said had the whole thing just burned up it would have been easier to take. Seeing the debris laying there was painful.
The A-frame had collapsed and the iron roof had landed on the lower storey's brick foundations, creating an incinerator effect.
"I couldn't go into the rubble and retrieve anything - there was just nothing left," Robyn said.
"All our concrete slabs were compromised from the extreme heat."
Outside, a wheelbarrow, a chair and a Ganesha statue were the sole survivors - Buddha had shattered. The 85 mango trees, the lychees, the macadamias and citrus were all blackened.
Not having been born in South Arm, and so never quite feeling like a 'local', Robyn knew then that this was the end of her time there.
I don't think I could ever picture the property being green again. The bones are still there, and so are the energy spots. But I knew at this stage of my life I just couldn't put any more of my energy back into it. I was ready for a fresh start."
Moving On
Robyn and Bryce spent the three weeks immediately after the fire in the Cubana Motel in Nambucca - "the new owners were there and they were so accommodating. They put on breakfast for all of us".
Robyn went into action mode almost instantly, calling insurance, telcos, and internet providers.
By December 12 she'd received her insurance payout and was ready to make a decision on her future.
By January her insurer had cleared the debris from her property and she was making a successful offer on a block of land in Hyland Park.
There were no long-term accommodation options available close to home, so she managed to find a townhouse further afield, in the Aqualuna Resort in Sapphire Beach.
That stay came to a momentous end in May when a heavily-armed police tactical assault team arrived to raid an alleged drug operation right next door.
I was walking back to my townhouse and there were I-don't-know-how-many guys all looking like ninjas with their semi-automatic rifles, black masks and bullet-proof vests. When they didn't get the people they were after I knew I couldn't stay.
Thankfully she was successful in securing a six-month lease on a lovely apartment in Nambucca - just around the corner from where she's now building her new lease on life.
"I expect that the house will be finished in November," she said.
"I consider myself fortunate that I was insured for both home and contents (although not the shed and its contents), that I had paid accommodation for 12 months, and that I had the wherewithal to plan for my future," she said.
She's just put the Shambala Sanctuary block on the market.
Robyn will still be in a green oasis even in 'suburban' Hyland Park, with the Nambucca State Forest out the front door, and a council reserve out the back.
And even though, like South Arm, there's only one road in and out of Hyland Park, Robyn's not too worried.
"I feel more secure in this house - there's toughened glass on the windows, no gaps for embers to get through, good insulation, and the whole structure is built properly," she said.
"And the creek is there.
"South Arm gave me a lot more challenges than I'd had in my life before. Four years on my own taught me the lessons I needed to survive. So in a way I'm grateful for the time I've had there.
"That's why I don't worry about going to Hyland Park."
Robyn has learned a lot from her experiences since moving to the Nambucca Valley, losing one house and building another in less than 12 months. And she's looking forward to settling into her new place by Christmas, even though she doesn't "even own a plate to eat off yet".
To move on is the most important thing - when you dwell on what was lost you become stuck.This gave me a better insight into life; things come and go, but you can still create your own future.
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Mel Leigh Dee
Mel is a journalist at the Guardian News and is based in Macksville.
Mel is a journalist at the Guardian News and is based in Macksville.
