When most people think of a wildfire, they imagine standing at the edge of the flames or watching firefighters battling an inferno. But there is another side to these events—one that reaches much further than the fire itself.
We live around 60 kilometres from the current Los Gallardos wildfire. Although we are not in immediate danger, the fire has become part of our daily lives in ways I hadn’t expected.
As evening falls, we can see the orange glow of the flames on the distant hills. It is both beautiful and deeply unsettling. There is something strangely hypnotic about watching a fire from so far away, knowing that it is consuming landscapes, wildlife, and, for some people, their sense of security and even their lives.
The most noticeable reminder, however, is the smell.
Come the evening, the air carries the unmistakable scent of smoke as we sit on our terrace. It drifts across the countryside and settles over our area, a constant reminder that the wildfire is still burning beyond the horizon.
Then there is the ash.
Tiny flakes of fine ash have been falling onto our terrace and blowing into the house whenever the doors and windows are open. At first glance they almost look like dust or pollen, but they are a tangible reminder that smoke and debris can travel remarkable distances. It is strange to dust away ash from your home while knowing it originated many kilometres away.
Like so many others, we find ourselves constantly checking the news for updates. We watch the incredible efforts of the firefighters on the ground and the aerial crews overhead. The Guardia in their relentless task to check all the remote homes in the mountains are secure and safe. All of whom we are immensely grateful for their blood, sweat and tears. The images of planes skimming the Mediterranean to scoop up thousands of litres of seawater before returning to the fire are extraordinary. Helicopters are also drawing water wherever they safely can, including from swimming pools whose owners have generously offered them for the firefighting effort. Every successful water drop feels like a small victory, and every report of progress brings a glimmer of hope.
Yet alongside that hope comes heartbreak.
Our thoughts are with the families who have lost loved ones, those who are still waiting for news of people who remain missing, and everyone whose lives have been turned upside down by this devastating wildfire. While we experience the smoke, the ash, and the distant glow, others have faced evacuation, the loss of homes, businesses, treasured possessions, and landscapes they have known all their lives. No amount of distance can lessen the sadness of seeing such devastation unfold.
Wildfires are often reported in terms of hectares burned, aircraft deployed, or evacuation numbers. Those figures are important, but they don’t always capture the quieter impact felt by communities in and beyond the evacuation zones.
The smoke affects air quality. Outdoor activities become less enjoyable. The smell lingers on clothes and furniture. People begin checking weather forecasts not just for rain, but for wind direction, hoping it will carry the smoke elsewhere.
These fires also remind us how interconnected our environment really is. A blaze burning dozens of kilometres away can still affect daily life through the air we breathe and the particles that settle on our homes. Nature does not recognise municipal boundaries.
Watching the fire from afar has given me an even greater appreciation for the courage and dedication of the firefighters, pilots, helicopter crews, emergency services, volunteers, and local residents who continue to work tirelessly in unimaginably difficult conditions. Their determination to protect lives, homes, wildlife, and the beautiful landscapes of this region deserves our deepest respect and gratitude.
A video taken from our home by Pam
As I write this, the evening sky is beginning to darken once again. Soon the distant flames will become visible on the horizon, a stark reminder that the wildfire is still burning. We can smell the smoke, we brush the ash from our terrace, and we hope that tomorrow brings cooler temperatures, calmer winds, and more encouraging news.
Until then, every faint smell of smoke and every speck of ash reminds us that even from 60 kilometres away, a wildfire can touch everyday life. More importantly, it reminds us that behind every headline are real people whose lives have been changed forever. We can only hope that the fire is brought under control soon, that those still in danger find safety, and that the long process of healing and rebuilding can begin.
Great article guys…