The weekend began much like any other. The sun was shining, so we planned a trip to the beach to try to avoid the heat.

Within a few hours things had completely changed. Thick billowing smoke rose above Mimosa Rocks National Park, twisting its way over the Pacific Ocean. We packed a bag of clothes and frantically refreshed our phones for updates as fires began to pop up across the screen. Every few minutes we would check the direction of the oppressively hot wind outside, just in case it changed direction and began blowing the fire quickly towards us. The community kept in close contact via social media, and friends closer to the front line described a scene with the potential to escalate fast.

Soon we could smell smoke drifting into the house. That was the line we had drawn. Living around 10km north of the fire, if we could see smoke, and smell it, we would head north towards Bermagui. With strong hot winds swirling in what seemed like every direction, we jumped in the car.

One of our neighbours, a volunteer with the local fire brigade, parked beside the road told us most people had already left. Unlike many others, were were lucky we had friends, and a safe place to rest our heads for the night far from the front line.

Well into the night I was still refreshing apps on my phone for the latest information. Throughout the day they had been popping up from Toothdale to Wallagoot and now there was apparently one just south of Bermagui? With the day we had had anything was possible, but it looked very close to the check point we had just past through. It was incorrect, and had a number of residents worried for no reason at all.

It felt like chaos in every direction. Instinct and intuition guided us through the many unknowns of the moment. 

By Monday, unlike many people, we were home. The threat still felt as strong as it did the day before, and we wondered if we would again have to evacuate. We were at the mercy of nature, something so beautiful, yet unforgiving.