Sadly, the 2013 Dunalley bushfire was the third experience of losing my house to fire in my life.

In 1977, my house at Cygnet, in Tasmania's Huon Valley, was destroyed by fire because of a poorly installed wood heater.

I rebuilt, but it was challenging.

The members of the community in Cygnet gathered around me in a way you wouldn't believe.

They were absolutely fantastic folk, and it was an expression of the true spirit of the Huon.

They were just so, so supportive, they relocated another house onto the property. My deepest respect and admiration will stay with me to the grave for those folk.

In 2008, my family and I moved to a property outside of Dunalley.

It was just an iconic, beautiful place.

The family that lived here for 80 years had built a fine property, the shearing shed was just absolutely magnificent — the most photographed building on the Arthur Highway — along with all the other buildings, and it had fine gardens.

In September 2011, on Father's Day, the house caught alight.

I think it was a chink in the chimney that allowed some embers to get into the ceiling and when a wind came up, it ignited a fire in the roof and it burned the house.

Chimneys and I don't get along too well!

I was at work and there was this distress call to say that the house was burning.

So I got home and the valiant firies saved a reasonable amount of the shell, but the whole place was gutted and had to be reconstructed.

This is what remained of Michael King's property after the Dunalley blaze. ( Supplied: Michael King )

'Very lucky to be alive' after Dunalley bushfire

By January 2013, we'd rebuilt and were up to the last coat of paint.

We'd started moving things in. But then along with 200 other families, I lost this place — along with five other buildings — in the Dunalley bushfire.

On that day, I was with some firies trying to save the shearing shed, and failed — then I tried to save the house and failed as well.

I became trapped in the house and got outside, so I put a bucket over my head and doused myself with water and walked through the flames.

I only got one third-degree burn, but my throat and eyes were severely damaged.

The firies saw me disappear into a burning building and they reported me missing, thought dead.

I was very lucky to be alive.

I felt a sense of devastation, but also gratitude because I survived it — and sadness because I'd caused so much distress to my family.

Boomer Bay, near Dunalley, was razed in Tasmania's 2013 bushfires. ( AAP: Chris Kidd/News Limited Pool )

Life in a tent

After the fire, I spent nine months in a tent while we rebuilt the house.

Every night you'd throw a bucket of water over your head to wash, and you'd always know that the moment you timed it the wind would spring up and throw ash and dust back over you.

So when the kids and their mates built a little demountable for me, and I had that first hot shower in the depths of winter, it was a moment of exquisite joy, absolutely wonderful.

The Salvation Army put a field officer in the community who made regular visits, so if you had a lean time you could share that burden with someone who wasn't a family member.

She was an amazing woman. I tried to have a good news story for her when she came — you know there was another accomplishment, another goal post reached.

That was a terribly important part of the journey to recovery for me.

The community banded together to rebuild after the devastating fires. ( ABC TV: Peter Curtis )

You understand what a community is about

After the bushfire my sons and I had a discussion, and it was a collective decision to rebuild again.

As a family we had a strong desire to see the unfinished work completed, because the rebuilt house was up to the last coat of paint after the first fire, and yet it was completely obliterated.

There was a sense of community crisis during this second rebuild, where my needs were just one of hundreds.

I knew full well that there were others doing it far tougher than I was.

The community of Dunalley was extremely important in our decision to stay and rebuild.

One of the turning points was the local people just simply bringing baskets of food to one another and ensuring that animals were taken care of and looking out for each other in a way that could only touch your heart.

So that's when you began to understand what a community is about.

Michael King's rebuilt property is named in honour of his journey. ( Supplied: Michael King )

As we were rebuilding, there was a financial crisis because there were completely insufficient amounts of money to build the house — and yet it was a goal post to want to see the job done.

When you were trying to source ideas about how to ingeniously stitch it together, you often felt you might fail.

We chose to build stylistically a replica of the old timber homestead.

We were lucky that many things that had survived that fire were in a shipping container in the driveway, and it got severely smoke damaged, but it didn't ignite because of a lack of oxygen.

It gave us the basis of things for a new homestead that is the recreation of the old, but also a touch of authenticity with the furniture and the style of construction.

I feel like I have a house with soul, I have a house that has our personal history, and because it was built in the footprint of the old house, even the old ghosts still haunt us.

The wind that always blew the door shut, the one that catches because of a swollen doorjamb, they're still there today.

Never hesitate to put a hand up for help

I chose to stay and rebuild, others chose to leave and start again.

But the impact of survivor guilt on those whose houses were saved can be felt very, very powerfully and strongly whether you escape the damage of the immediate bushfire, whether you lose your house and leave, or whether you choose to rebuild.

Michael King lived nine months in a tent while rebuilding his place. ( ABC News: Laura Beavis )

You hope that you've got a story to tell and share with others, one of hope and inspiration to not give up, to want to see things be there even if it's only as a source of inspiration for your family and your grandchildren.

To believe that it is possible to do this in a way does strengthen us, but if it is too difficult, there's no shame in moving on.

We're complex creatures and we have complex reactions to natural disaster in a way that no individual can really be prepared for. But you should seek as much information and support as you can, and never hesitate to put your hand up for that.

Because there are people who explain how you're feeling.

After we rebuilt we established a small business, first of all as accommodation, and now we've made a shift towards food.

We've called the property "Phoenix Farm", because the mythological creature rising from the ashes has always been legendary, and I guess I wanted my story to be identified with something that was more success from the ashes rather than failure.