Australian bushfire photos from the air show scale of carnage and destruction

Updated

As the smoke begins to clear, we're seeing for the first time the unimaginable scale of Australia's worst bushfire season.

In the New South Wales Southern Highlands, about 100km south-west of Sydney, no matter what the season, there has always been one constant: green.

But not anymore.

The ABC was this week given access to an RFS helicopter for a flyover of the region, which has been decimated by the massive Green Wattle Creek and Morton fires.

Homes have been lost.

Sheds, cars and livelihoods have been destroyed.

But, miraculously, homes where flames kissed the gutters were saved.

In some areas, plantations have been protected from the flames like an imaginary wall.

As the smoke gradually lifts after weeks of relentless bushfires, the scope of the destruction is emerging.

With it, new colours — colours not usually seen on a grand scale in the Australian bush — are now commonplace.

This area, just east of Wingello, has been nicknamed "Ground Zero" by firefighters.

The dark blues and charcoal look like an abstract painting, not the bush we're used to.

Usually, the only vivid colours in the Australian bush come from glimpses of birds darting through the tree line, or sprouts of native flora. But this year, a new colour has become a regular in the Australian landscape, the red-pink colour of fire retardant.

RFS Southern Highlands group captain Andrew Beville was in the air with the ABC during the flyover.

Assessing this summer's bushfire crisis from above has given Beville a unique perspective. For him, there's only one way to describe it.

"It's carnage," he said.

"I've been doing this for 31 years and I've never seen bushland where the trees have become sticks.

"Not on this scale. Never. Not even a little critter could survive that.

"I've grown up in the bush and when you see there's nothing left in those places it leaves you wondering, you know, how does an ecosystem recover from this?"

A new normal

Beville's alarm goes off every day at 5:00am.

His wife fixes him a coffee and he tries not to wake up his young children in the house before he heads off for the day.

A stonemason by trade from the Southern Highlands town of Colo Vale, he's lived in the area most of his life.

But for the past six weeks, he's not thought about work. It's been hard to even think about family. He's had one thing on his mind.

"Your mind gets switched off from family life and work life," Beville told the ABC. "You pretty much only think about the next five days in front of you.

"The fires, where they're moving, what's next.

"You're focused on protecting the community, that's it."

Since the start of summer — similar to thousands of volunteer firefighters across the country — Beville, like a superhero, has taken on another persona.

He's what's known as an air attack supervisor. The role sees him in a helicopter, for hours every day, coordinating the aerial firefighting helicopters.

He also talks directly to the firefighters on the ground as well as an operations officer, who helps direct the firefighters.

"You're the link," he said. "The intelligence. You're making sure you're providing a safe environment for people on the ground and in the air."

Friends of his have lost their homes. His other mates, like him, have given up their jobs to fight.

The recent rain has given the RFS force in the area a few days off — for some the first real days to catch their breath in months.

And for Beville, six weeks of 16-hour days has taken its toll.

"To be honest with ya mate, I'm just hanging on," he said.

"You crawl into bed at midnight, and you're back up again at 5:00am. It's been tough. But I'm not alone, there's thousands of us doing the same thing."

He said there was one thing keeping him going.

"The appreciation of the community," he said.

"That's it."

'Thank you firey'

The true spread of devastation around the Southern Highlands — like much of the fire-affected areas across the country — is yet to be truly understood.

The Green Wattle Creek fire has burnt through 278,000 hectares, so far. While the Morton fire has hit 19,270 hectares.

And despite the recent rain, the threat will continue as the summer rolls on.

But out of the misery, stories of hope break through.

One of the buildings Beville's team helped save was the Sunnataram Forest Monastery. The monastery, which also acts as a meditation retreat, was under serious threat last Friday.

The ladies' accommodation, which the monks call Dhamma Garden, was razed but the monastery itself, along with many other buildings, was saved.

On the grounds, the monks have left a simple sign for the firefighters on the ground and helicopters above.

There's another sign in the now burnt gardens of the monastery — a sign, for visitors and the monks, that has been there for much longer.

It reads: "Gratitude is a bridge to the heart reflecting back the beauty in our lives"

Even after the inferno, beauty remains.

The beauty of gratitude.

Credits

Photography: The Specialist Reporting Team's Brendan Esposito

Reporting and production: The Specialist Reporting Team's Nick Sas

Production: Leigh Tonkin

Topics: bushfire, disasters-and-accidents, nsw, australia, wingello-2579, colo-vale-2575, bundanoon-2578, penrose-2579

First posted