The Campfire by Gary Fortington

Ned poked at the fire with his boot to rekindle the flame; obediently it

burst into life, showering sparks in all directions. Father and son sat,

gazed into the fire, and yarned as the night closed in around them. Their

muffled voices and soft laughter were intermingled with the sounds of

the bush and the crackling of the fire. Unconcerned about the two

visitors, life in the bush continued on as it had done since time began.

Ned was sad, this would probably be the last time he would share a fire;

he was old now, tired and worn out. All the years of struggle trying to

scratch an existence out of an unrelenting and uncaring land had finally

beaten him. So with the love of his life now gone; there was no real

reason to go on.

In the warm glow of the fire he recalled how, as a youngster, he set his

first fire. It was at a “special place” that he and his mate had discovered

while out hunting rabbits. It was a place so special that, they were sure,

no one else had ever been there before them. Their first attempt was a

disaster; most of the wood was just too large and too green to burn. They

soon tired of scouring the bush for suitable fuel. The old man’s lips

creased into a soft smile as those memories came flooding back. Back

then Ned didn’t care much about the fire anyway. He was always too busy

chasing a rabbits with his dog or skipping stones across the creek or

racing his horse down the rough bush track and into the valley. At this

time in his life he needed no fire to keep him warm. Ned felt his face

flush, was it the warmth from the fire or was he a little embarrassed

recollecting those clumsy, boyhood days?

The next occasion Ned lit a fire at his “special place” was when he was

seventeen and he was there with the first and only girl in his life. He was

trying very hard to impress her so he built a huge bonfire that burned

furiously. The fire was so big that the flames licked dangerously at the

low hanging branches of the surrounding gums. Smoke billowed and

swirled around the fire before finally disappearing off in a thin wispy

trail into the sky. But despite its size and ferocity, the fire could not

match Ned’s own intensity and passion for this girl, the girl who was to

become his wife and best friend for more than forty years. The sparks

spat in all directions and the smoke danced out of control around the fire.

So engrossed were the pair with each other that they neither noticed or

cared.

It was not until many years later when on a hunting trip with his young

teenage son that Ned set his next fire. This was a small fire, purposely

designed to teach his boy about bushcraft and the need to preserve the

bush. Ned had shown his son where to collect the best firewood. He

showed him how to build the fire in the shape of a pyramid so that the air

circulated and the fire burnt with very little smoke. The final result was

a very efficient fire that reflected the skills Ned had learnt from his

own father. Using just enough fuel to cook their evening meal and keep

them warm against the cold night air, they sat and talked. They shared

the conversation, Ned recalling his own childhood experiences of life on

the farm and the boy sharing his dreams for the future. After an hour or

so the boy fell silent. His father bent lovingly over him, kissed him, and

tucked his blanket in around him.

With the children now grown and moved away Ned and his wife visited

their “special place” many times, they fished and spent long hours walking

through the bush spotting the many different types of birds and animals

that lived there. They built a different campfire during these days, one

that reflected the love they had for one another. It was not as large and

intense as when they were high-spirited teenage lovers nor was it as small

or efficient as the hunter’s fire. The fire they shared together kept

them as warm as toast and burnt with a glow that softly lit up the bush

around them. They sat side-by-side holding hands and staring into the

fire, not speaking and, after all these years, not needing to speak. Now,

without warning, she had been taken from him.

After what seemed an eternity Ned again poked at the fire with his boot

to rekindle the flame………but the fire had died. Ned sighed, rolled deep

into his swag and wearily closed his eyes.