Aftermath
The fire was still burning on the fringes of our lot. We had no power, and no water, so I scooped bucketfuls from the pool to cool the hot spots. The sky was full of planes and choppers dropping water bombs on the worst areas. It occurred to me how much coordination was required. A plane load of water would hurt if it landed on your head. Aircraft from Cyprus, Greece, Spain, Israel, Jordan and the UK were flying all day every day, wrestling to get the wildfire tamed.
New Routines
We took more items from home. I wanted to take a swim to get rid of the ash and soot. Kourion Beach Restaurant became our daytime home. Debbie, Allan, Mags and I could swim and eat. The canine division, Sandy, Spice & Charlie, could lie in the shade, and be petted by all the staff. Great food, splendid coffee and generous provision of charging facilities made it an ideal daytime HQ. Evenings, we switched to the Three Keys Bar, where Stef and George looked after us. We were safe, and our dogs were safe. Again, we discussed sleeping arrangements. Friends had offered, and there are hotels, but we were all concerned about possible looting. With the power down and law enforcement busy as auxiliary fire fighters, we felt our homes were vulnerable. We decided to stay in the houses.
The air was still thick with soot and ash. The smell was pervasive. Cloying, intense wood smoke-flavoured air. The days were blazing hot, pushing 40 degrees centigrade, not cooling much below 30 at night. We slept in the car again, just outside the gate. We watched fire teams come and go throughout the night. Patrolling, guarding against flare ups. Carob and olive trees both burn long and hot, sometimes for days. After another long night, we headed down to the beach.
Damage
Friday, the fire continued, but not close to us. We saw a truck drop off a massive load of telegraph poles. We began to pay attention to them. Many were still smoking. Some were down. Cables where everywhere. It became clear this was a mammoth undertaking. Just in our village, one hundred and thirteen poles needed replacing, both along the streets and across the bondu.
At the Three Keys, I met David, whose wife was in hospital. He was delighted to report that her chemotherapy had been a huge success, and she was in great form. I asked about his house.
"Completely gone. Nothing but ash."
I felt crushed for him and mumbled some platitude or another. He replied that the wife would now get a brand new, modern style bungalow, which she would love, even if he would prefer something more classical. He was upset at the loss of his vintage MG, but acknowledged that it wasn't terribly practical.
It's rare that I'm lost for words, but the stoic steadiness of this Welshman was truly dumbfounding. His phone rang. "Got to go. Skip man is coming." Off he went, leaving me shaking my head in limitless admiration.
News
The Limassol Fire Chief was saying he was certain the fire was arson. It was now under control, he said, although the danger of flare-ups was real, particularly as strong winds continued to speed across the blackened fire fields. The blaze was the biggest in a generation, with 120 square kilometres burned. Two deaths were confirmed, an elderly couple who had burned in their car, trying to escape.
Mrs L and I had taken a drive around the village, visiting the part close to the forest. The strangest thing is the randomness. A house stood untouched right next to one burnt to the ground. The person who on Wednesday believed her house was gone, discovered on Thursday that the fire had taken her shed, but left her house. Mick and Jan's house stands undamaged. We drove through Country Rose, a development of houses and villas close to the forest. We both cried. Outside some burnt out houses were their devastated owners. Eyes empty. Their entire lives reduced to ash and rubble.
People like you support my writing. Sign up for my free newsletter. Become a paid member, and get access to all my writing, including anything I publish, and a Member's Slack.
