Accidents Will Happen (let’s blame the French*)

Accidents Will Happen (let’s blame the French*)

Beautiful smooth rocks on the all-time-low River Mondego

Beautiful smooth rocks on the all-time-low River Mondego

It’s been quite a week for a number of reasons. It seemed that almost everywhere else in Central Portugal was in flames except us. So many people lost homes and lives, it’s been quite unbelievable. We missed it all by a day as we had left for the UK. From seeing maps of the burned areas, it looks unlikely that escape would have been an option once the fire came close – our land was surrounded, but we weren’t on it. There is much written on the latest fires and their aftermath, so I’m not going to dwell on it here, but in reality my mind has been thinking of little else. Along with deep sadness for those who lost so much and working out how we can help them, I’m pondering how we can continue to look at ways to protect ourselves in the short term and reforest our land in the long term.

In a previous post I mentioned the increased likelihood of Keith sustaining near fatal injuries due to our increased tool collection and usage in our much larger quinta. He didn’t wait long to prove me right and it’s all the fault of French Air Traffic Control*.

One evening, four days before the fires, Keith and I were indoors. Keith was washing-up. Suddenly, he said: ‘Sarah, we need to go to a hospital. I have lost my thumb’. I turned to find him clutching a blood soaked tea towel around his right hand. It was 10pm at night and had no idea what to do. Amidst a heated, panicked difference of opinion about whether we should call an ambulance (me) or drive to a hospital (him), we called 112 to find out where the hell the nearest 24 hour hospital was. Utilising our not-now-wasted First Aid training we kept the wound wrapped with Keith periodically becoming minorly hysterical about life with a severed digit. The emergency operator told us to stay put and the ambulance would come. I couldn’t imagine how anyone could find us in the forest as we have no address, road or post box – our mail goes to a cafe in the nearest village – and was yelling all this to the probably long-suffering operator, convinced that Keith was going to pass out through blood loss at any moment and knowing I couldn’t life him into the car. Amazingly from a few basic details she told me the name of our quinta and my name: we were registered somewhere and they knew us and the house. Phew! There is only one route to our house in a non-4×4 so I drove us up to the edge of the village to save the ambulance time. This meant sitting in a forest in the car, waiting for an ambulance that I wasn’t sure would come, with a man with a severed thumb, who I was expecting to pass out at any moment. I was flipping terrified. As is always the case in Portugal, stuff always works out in the end. Our friendly bombeiros (firemen) arrived (filthy fingernails – definitely not paramedics) and took us to a hospital 40 minutes away providing me with the best opportunity for practising Portuguese that I have had in more than  year – I now know exactly when to pick our olives – whilst Keith sat in the back with an ice pack. Every cloud, and all that.

Keith looking pensive, sporting Portuguese NHS jim jams

Keith looking pensive, sporting Portuguese NHS jim jams post-surgery.

The Doctor at the hospital diagnosed cut tendons and nerves all around his thumb – it was still attached, but he couldn’t feel or move it – but didn’t want to operate and sent Keith to a larger hospital another hour away, straight into emergency surgery and two days in hospital. I returned home after a night sleeping in the car to what looked like a crime scene. Next time, he needs to maintain greater control of the blood I now know that blood takes off the top layer of terracotta tiles. That night is literally indelibly etched on our kitchen floor.

A picture of a mantis on the table rather than one of a blood splatted floor

A picture of a mantis on the table rather than one of a blood splattered floor. You’d thank me for it

Three days before Keith had his mishap, we broke the coffee holding cup from our coffee machine.

One day before Keith’s mishap, my brother and his wife were due to arrive with a replacement coffee holding cup which we had delivered to their house. Their trip was foiled due to a French Air Traffic Control strike; their plane cancelled – while they were sitting on it waiting to take off. Without a replacement part, we were using a cafetiere. Keith was washing up the cafetiere when he pressed – somewhat incredulously – too hard on the glass at the bottom and pushed his thumb straight through.

If you know Keith, you will know that this is a particularly typical Keith accident which involves testing items to discover their boundaries. In order to discover their boundaries, it is necessary to go past the boundary to know where it is. This explains why he breaks things so frequently. ‘I’m an engineer’, he says, ‘engineering is all about testing for the edges’. ‘You’re a liability,’ I say, ‘you nearly lost your fucking thumb’. Even he conceded on that point. At least, he now knows the boundaries of a cafetiere. And a thumb.

Beyond the boundary of a cafetiere

Beyond the boundary of a cafetiere

Keith is fine but one-handed for the next 3-4 months at least. He can’t drive, use a strimmer, a chainsaw or cut up his dinner. This may be a saving grace for his longevity, but it’s a bloody nuisance for making progress in our garden. After two days in hospital, he was so bored and so happy to be out, telling me how he could help again now. No, I said, kindly: when you were in hospital I only had one person to look after, now you are out, I have one and a half. It’s a jolly good job that I didn’t chose nursing. Pity him.

Hospital food, Portuguese style.

Hospital food, Portuguese style.

His stitches come out this week and physio should start soon after. He has no movement or sensation in his thumb. It’s a serious injury and it will be months before we know how much mobility and strength he will regain. He can still make tea and eat biscuits so he has retained all of the essential, life-affirming qualities. The tree felling and three hectares of strimming will just have to wait.

Bloody French*.

*None of this had anything to with the French. It was all Keith’s fault. If he had been consistently trying to find the boundaries of the original coffee machine since the day we bought it by cramming too much bloody coffee into it, the coffee holding cup thing would never have broken and we wouldn’t have been using the cafetiere. I love the French despite them screwing up my brother’s holiday, but hey, you gotta love a strike.

Living in a Box…a Tinderbox


That’s our house, and those others things are trees. Loads of the buggers.

PLEASE NOTE: This is not expert advice on the subject of wildfires. This is personal perspective only. Please seek professional guidance.

The subject of wildfires is a sensitive one at this time of the year, mainly it seems within the immigrant/estrangeiro population. Our local Portuguese village neighbours appear largely unconcerned by the frequent water planes flying overhead and distant (so far) plumes of smoke that appear on a regular basis. Someone told me that ‘the Portuguese grow up with fire’ and so perhaps are a little more accustomed to its presence than some of us. My only experience of wildfire in the UK was the car journey to my brother’s wedding in Wales in 1976 when I can vividly remember driving along roads in the dark with flames on either side. I was 8 and terrified.

There are many political issues relating to eucalyptus planting, unmanaged land and climate changes playing a part in the prevalence and scale of the fires in Portugal. I am new here and no expert and so will avoid postulating on something I know little about, but instead share our limited experience and perspective of choosing to live in an arguably high risk area for fire. Perhaps it helps you to decide whether its an OK place to live or somewhere you’d prefer to avoid. Knowledge is power, so they say.

A number of people have said ‘why move somewhere with that risk?’ The truth is that we didn’t know we had done so. Not a clue. We viewed our new home in April when all was fresh and green and although had been aware that in 2016 Central and Northern Portugal had experienced multiple fires, we didn’t put two and two together and worked out that this might be a regular thing and might affect us living in a forest. We had no idea how many fires can happen every day in Central Portugal. Coming from the Eastern Algarve where fire is still a worry but far more rare due to there being fewer people and fewer trees, I suppose, we had lived in relative ignorant bliss. We thought it was wet and cold up here. We moved in during late spring 2017 and within two weeks came the horrific and tragic fire around Pedrogao Grande. It was a rude awakening and a period of wondering if we had done something really stupid. It’s fair to say that had we known about the fires here we wouldn’t have bought our house in its specific location, but we would have been wrong. Things can seem scarier from the outside than they actually are.

Smoke on the horizon

We decided that the only way to live with this without sleepless nights, constant sky watching and anxiety was to get educated and get prepared. Please don’t take my word for what you are about to read – this is just how we have made our relative peace with the risk of fire, please take your own steps to find out what is best practice for your area and home.

The first thing is perspective. 500 people were killed on Portugal’s roads in 2016, 4 people were killed in fires. It seems you are safer in a forest in summertime than on your way to Continente. That isn’t meant to scare anyone, just to put the risk of fire into perspective compared with an activity which most people don’t consider scary or worrying.

There is information provided by the local Camara (council) giving guidance about safe zones around property which should be free of ground cover and waste. I believe that the Camara can be asked to force neighbours to ensure that land which adjoins your property is also free of ground cover, although how likely this is to be implemented in reality I cannot say. There is also guidance provided on Safe Communities Portugal  on prevention and protection and a fire safety pdf put together by Quinta Vale Verde whose home was damaged by the Pedrogao Grande fire. You can read their account of their terrifying experience on that day here. An insight into something that I would certainly not want to go through.


We were fortunate that the previous owner of our home had kept the area close to the house strimmed and clean and so we haven’t had much work to do to extend that and do some further chopping. We learned that broadleaf woodland (oak, chestnut) is more fire retardant than eucalyptus and pine. We have a lot of woodland which is mostly oak and pine and in order to find out how best to preserve it, we enlisted the services of Marko from the Awakened Forest Project to advise us. It is worth mentioning that Marko is not a fire expert; his advice was more generally on the reforesting of our land with more native tree species, which by its very nature decreases the fire risk. It also saved me a lot of work because I was expecting to have to rake 3 hectares worth of leaves from the woodland floor, which I now learn is not necessary or desirable. Happy days.

We spoke to our neighbours and looked for evidence of past fire on the land and discovered that there has only been one fire here in at least 25 years and that was a long time ago. We can see charred roots which have many years of new growth on them. This may mean we are in a somewhat protected position, or may just be luck.

We also planned our actions should a fire rear its head in our vicinity. By considering these things at a time of calm, hopefully we will make a better decision if the time comes. Again, you must make your own decisions based on your setting, level of nerve and circumstances.

  • We have deep water tanks and cellars – sometimes staying put is the safest thing to do if you don’t know what you are driving/walking into. Putting a ladder into the water tank and ensuring there is food and water in the cellar gives us options.
  • If faced with a passing wildfire when you are stuck in a car – you may be safer in the car than outside of it. Only if you know of a safe place to go should you leave your vehicle. This link gives detailed advice:
  • We have identified four exit routes from our property, two only accessible by 4WD, another is through a eucalyptus forest and the final one is swimming/canoeing across a river. Depending on the location of the fire, we can make decisions about if and when to leave.
  • We now have blankets and large water carriers in our car along with an evacuation bag with clothes, drinking water, snacks, phone charger, money and basic toiletries.
  • There is a list inside the front door to remind us what we need to grab should we need to leave in a hurry.
  • There is also a note to be stuck on the outside of the front door in Portuguese informing the bombeiros that we have left and that the house is empty along with our names and telephone number – we are in a remote area and would be unlikely to be evacuated or notified and don’t want them to waste their time looking for us.

This may all sound like a terrifying way to live, perpetually waiting to grab your valuables and run for your life, but its actually had the opposite effect. By knowing that our home is as low risk as it can be and knowing that we have options for staying or going along with provisions to do so quickly, we now feel quite comfortable living in a tinderbox.

If you are looking for a house in a region known to have fires and it worries you, you may want to consider a few things when you go to view it, such as access in and out, type of trees around the area, any signs of recent fire (charred roots) and how easy it would be to keep the land clean.

It goes without saying that its not for everyone and that if being so close to so many trees fills you with terror and you find yourself yelling ‘I smell smoke’ every five minutes, then I’d choose somewhere else to live if I were you.