Simon Crisp, bushfire and the greatest beer he ever tasted
Simon Crisp fought a desperate battle to save his place from bushfire. This photo is how his wife learnt he’d survived.
Longwood East 3666
There’s a shack in the bush at the edge of Victoria’s Strathbogie Ranges that holds a special place in Simon Crisp’s heart. He designed the timber and corrugated iron dwelling 20 years ago as a refuge from city life. A place to live simply, immersed in nature, for a few days at least; an antidote to his job as a clinical psychologist in Melbourne, listening to stories of struggle and pain. The only lights at night are kero lanterns and the stars above your head. He proposed to Emma here. And now, when they come with their three girls, aged eight, six and four, the kids bathe in this clawfoot bath on the deck, delighting in the wildlife all around them: roos and cockatoos, koalas and rosellas, wedge-tailed eagles soaring in the valley below.
Last summer, a bushfire sparked by lightning nearly turned it all to ashes. Crisp, 52, raced up there by himself and spent two desperate days fighting spot fires armed only with a rake, an old New York Fire Department jacket and a 15-litre backpack sprayer. It was a losing battle and he’d all but given up hope when “the cavalry arrived”, he says, heralded by the whump whump whump of a helitanker that unloaded above him. He stood there dripping, the trees hissing around him, and cried with gratitude and relief.
Crisp is pictured relaxing after the crisis, in a shot from The Newspaper Works’ PANPA awards. He hadn’t been able to call Emma for 24 hours at this point; the last time they’d spoken he’d told her the situation was bad and getting worse. “She thought she might never see me again. So the photographer emailed her this photo on the spot – with no message at all.” Sometimes a picture’s worth a thousand words, right?
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