Should We Be Concerned About This?

The Nighttime View Behind My House

 

That was the question the Russian tourists asked me as I stood on the dirt road beside my house; "Should we be concerned about this?" And to be honest it was hard to know how to answer. The Australian in me sees a mountain covered in flames and wants nothing more than to grab the family and the photo albums and get the hell out of there (bush fires in Australia are a big deal!) but the man slowly acclimatising to the Thai way of life understands that this is normal, that's right, a mountain less than a few minutes from the town center is covered in flames and it's normal. In fact, it's deliberate.

Every year between February and March the landscape around here disappears beneath a thick layer of smoke the permeates e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g. Plenty of people will tell you that it's farmers burning their fields before the new planting season but to date I'm yet to see a single field that's been scorched. Instead what we saw each and every night on the hills and mountains that surround us was what is here referred to as "Fire Dragons;" those lines of fire that slither their way up and down the sides of the mountains, and all of which on uncultivated land.

Fire Dragons

  

If you asked around to find out what's going on with the burning you'll discover that it's that familiar scenario in which everyone in town has a differing story which they believe to be THE true one. I've heard that it's back burning to guard against bush fires, that it's part of an ancient agricultural ritual, that it's to encourage new growth in the forest, and plenty more which each have the possibility of being true. But the one told to me by a local guy that seems to ring true is that it's all a part of the Hill Tribes hunting technique.

Each year around this time they release the Fire Dragons to blaze along the mountains and force all the animals of the forest to run for 'safety,' and with the fire at their backs the animals run straight into the path of the hunters who are laying in wait. I am partially convinced of this because of what I saw on the night that I was photographing the fire dragons from a distance but decided I wanted, no, I needed to get closer to get "the shot." 

I hoisted my camera gear on top of my motorbike, kissed Wild Flower goodbye, took a few deep breathes to work up the courage to head up a mountain that was covered with fire, then charged off into the darkness. After a good 10minutes of riding back and forth on small trails trying to get as close to the flames as possible I ended up dismounting my bike and continuing on foot. After only a hundred or so meters I came to realise that whilst the flames were broad and hot they were actually quite slow moving, almost dawdling along to take in the sights. None seemed to be climbing up the trees or setting the canopy alight but instead were slowly eating their way along the extensive underbrush and leaf litter and so I felt reasonably safe walking to withing 30 or so meters of the flames before walking back a ways to get some wider panoramic shots. It was in the process of shooting the 4-shot panoramic below that I noticed a handful of Thai guys wandering around near the flames with torches and what was possibly (though I can't be 100% certain) rifles. Seeing this made me think that if these guys are out illegally hunting in the forest, and I, a hairy foreigner with his camera tripod that in the darkness looks suspiciously like a long legged creature of the forest, perhaps hanging around was not in the best interest of my health and safety. And so with that in mind I stealthily and swiftly made my withdrawal.

 

.. "The Shot" ..

Whilst the sunsets, scenery and ability to breath deeply had all but disappeared during the last months, Pai magically still managed to maintain it's beauty and charm despite being shrouded in an opaque veil of smoke. A good friend described the nights here as "Apocalyptically Beautiful" and whilst I'd happily trade it for a crisp, clear, star filled nights sky, at the end of the day I have no problem admitting that there are definitely worse places than my veranda to settle down with a cool drink in hand and watch the ever encroaching end of the world.