Real Survival Stories - Too Late to Run: Family Trapped by Flames

Episode Date: August 14, 2024

A family road trip through the south of France goes up in flames. In the scorchingly hot summer of 2021, Fiona is relaxing with her husband and kids among the lavender fields and vineyards of Provence. But that all suddenly changes. As the picturesque landscape ignites, the family will find themselves trapped in their accommodation - marooned on a lonely hillside with no hope of escape… A Noiser production, written by Macalister Bexon. For ad-free listening, bonus material and early access to new episodes, join Noiser+. Click the Noiser+ banner to get started. Or, if you’re on Spotify or Android, go to noiser.com/subscriptions Fiona got in touch with us after listening to the show. If you have an amazing survival story of your own that you’d like to put forward, let us know. Drop us an email at [e-mail] Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

You're a podcast listener, and this is a podcast ad heard only in Canada. Reach great Canadian listeners like yourself with podcast advertising from Libsyn Ads. Choose from hundreds of top podcasts offering host endorsements or run a pre-produced ad like this one across thousands of shows to reach your target audience with Libsyn Ads. Email bob at libsyn.com to learn more. That's b-o-b at l-i-b-s-y-n dot com. It's around 9pm on August the 16th, 2021. In the south of France, high up in the densely forested hills that overlook the medieval Provençal town of Lagarde-Frenay,

a stiff, cool evening wind blows rapidly across the hillside, and yet it's swelteringly, unnaturally hot. Inside a holiday home, perched at the top of the slope, Fiona Drummond has just put her three young children to bed. She gently pulls the bedroom door too, leaving it slightly ajar. All evening, the kids have been asking their mum if something is wrong. She's done her best to reassure them everything's fine, but it's difficult when she doesn't really believe that herself. Fiona walks back down the corridor towards the living room. As she approaches, she can hear the hushed whispers of the other adults. There is an intense debate about what they should do.

It's now impossible to ignore the acrid aroma wafting through the house. Scorched oak and burning pine. I could smell smoke by now, but according to the phone call that my brother-in-law had made down to the town, it was just going to be a smell from far away. There was not any reason to be concerned at all. Pausing at a window, Fiona stares at the sky, transfixed by the ominous orange glow and swirling black clouds. A sense of foreboding is growing. It's hard to put into words how I feel about not being able to leave when you feel danger. Our instinct as humans is actually misread as a human instinct. It's not. We're animals.

And my instinct then was to flee. She's about to rejoin the adults when a chorus of screams erupts from down the hall. Fiona spins around. Her children come racing towards her. Tanned limbs raised an alarm. Freckled faces contorted with worry. They come running out of their room.

Mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy! It's on fire! We're on fire, fire, fire! That's all they say. Ever wondered what you would do when disaster strikes? If your life depended on your next decision, could you make the right choice? Welcome to Real Survival Stories. These are the astonishing tales of ordinary people thrown into extraordinary situations. People suddenly forced to fight for their lives. In this episode, we meet Fiona Drummond and her family. In the summer of 2021, the English holidaymakers are enjoying a road trip through the south of France, taking in the iconic lavender fields and sprawling vineyards of Provence.

But this idyllic landscape is about to be consumed by fire. And when the Drummonds find themselves trapped on a hillside, surrounded by flames, with no hope of escape, all they have is each other. I remember my husband coming down the stairs and his face just looked wretched. I don't think I've ever seen a face look wretched before. And he just looked across from the stairwell and said, I love you. I'm John Hopkins from Noisa. This is Real Survival Stories. It's mid-afternoon on August 16, 2021. An oppressive heat grips the countryside of Provence.

The air ripples and shimmers around the yellowing grass and dried-out hedgerows. Even in their air-conditioned car, the stifling temperature is starting to get to the Drummond family. Fiona, the 40-year-old mother of three, turns in her seat to settle a disagreement in the back. Her husband, Aldred, concentrates on navigating through the narrow roads so in the car is myself my husband and my three children who at the time were nine seven and five And my son is a sailor, obsessive ball sports player. My middle daughter, Malinka, is seven and constantly recanting life in an accent. She loves an accent and is a wannabe actress. And my five-year-old, Daphne, who is just the follower along her that is basically a tomboy and will climb any tree

and follow her brother till death's door. We were just on a family holiday, roaming through the south of France with no particular hurry. It was just hot, super sunny, very blue skies, and we were on to the next stop. The next stop is the home of Fiona's sister-in-law, which is nestled in the hills above Saint-Tropez. It's been a sweltering summer for much of the Mediterranean, but right now it's especially hot, 40 degrees Celsius and rising. After two weeks of driving around the French

countryside, the family are looking forward to stopping for a while and taking a breather. A fortnight in a stuffy car with three young kids isn't easy, but Fiona wouldn't have it any other way. The whole tribe on tour is kind of the vibe that makes me feel really comfortable. We're all locked into the car, on the trip. No one can go anywhere. Everyone gets really bored. Everyone argues. Everyone has to agree,

and we have to negotiate and compromise the whole way. That's why we do the road trip. And the other reason we take road trips is because you get to see the world. So terrain and environments that change really slowly and gradually over time. So from the car, the children have really begun to appreciate the world. The Drummonds are not just an outdoorsy, adventure-loving family.

They're land conservationists. Sustainable agriculture and preserving nature are among their passions. As they roll through the hazy meadows and sun-baked fields, the conversation in the car naturally turns to the weather, or rather, the climate. In the last few weeks, wildfires have broken out elsewhere in Europe, in Italy and Greece, giving today's blasting heat an underlying menace. So we are driving through vineyards and see in the far distance a column of smoke, which prompts us to talk about fires.

It's so far away that we don't worry about it. But what we do worry about is the reason that there are fires in today's world. The children are constantly looking at or picking up or observing nature. They're kind of obsessed with it, analyzing it all the time. I suppose that's the way that we've brought them up. Laszlo, their eldest, is particularly preoccupied with this topic. He worries about fires, floods and famine, and whatever else the world may face in the future. But as they wind their way up the last stretch of mountain road, the smoke recedes

in their rearview mirror. For now, serious matters are put to one side, and a welcome break with family and friends awaits. You're a podcast listener, and this is a podcast ad heard only in Canada. Reach great Canadian listeners like yourself with podcast advertising from Libsyn Ads. Choose from hundreds of top podcasts offering host endorsements or run a pre-produced ad like this one across thousands of shows

to reach your target audience with Libsyn Ads. Email bob at libsyn.com to learn more. That's b-o-b at l-i-b-s-y-n dot com. It's 5 p.m. as the Drummonds roll into the wide driveway. Their family is there to greet them, along with a few friends who are visiting for the weekend. It's soon a melee of handshakes, hugs, and children scrabbling to get to the pool. Fiona and Aldred are ushered through the house and out onto a beautiful veranda overlooking the Bay of Saint-Tropez. They are high up at the top of the mountain, looking straight down over little villages and farms all the way to the sea. The view is incredible, or at least it should be.

We're all in great spirits, excited to see my sister-in-law, excited to be there. And we walk out through to the other side of the house onto the terrace and I look down into the bay and immediately the view looks wrong. There's just something odd about the view. So I then, I think I quietly said to my husband, like, that doesn't look normal. And what I was looking at was I kind of looked like a bowl of heavy smoke in the bay, like hanging low. Fiona points out the smoke to her hosts, but they're quick to reassure her it's just fog, apparently, and not uncommon. Before she can give it too much thought, a drink is thrust into her hand, and she's been called away by her children. Fiona starts unpacking, going between the kids' room on the ground floor and her bedroom, which is down a level in the basement.

Despite being in a wonderfully relaxed setting, surrounded by family, something keeps eating away at her. And I just couldn't concentrate. I just couldn't stop thinking about the waiter. And I just couldn't concentrate. I just couldn't stop thinking about the view. And I just felt really uncomfortable inside. And so I went back upstairs and I go back to the group and I just said, could we find out if anything's going on in the town or should we go and have a look? And no one wanted to listen. It was like, no, no, no, it'd be absolutely fine. It's just a sort of cloudy, foggy kind of thing that sometimes comes over the bay.

Nothing to worry about, don't worry. But an hour later, as she watches more of the bay disappear under darkening skies, it's getting harder for Fiona to relax. This fog needs further investigation. I could not put the subject down. And I said to my husband, can we go to the town? I actually want to leave. Can we just go to the town for a drink? So my husband goes to my brother-in-law, who is a super safe, the kind of person that checks everything. And he said, I tell you what, I'm going to call my friend in the village who will know if there's

anything wrong. He'll know. He's the person. So he calls down and says, do you have any, any smells of smoke, anything to do with forest fires down there in the village that you know of? No, no, not at all. We'll give you a call if we hear of anything. Puts the phone down, says, see, there you go. Nothing to worry about. The evening continues. The kids scuttle around, screaming and laughing. Snacks are eaten. Drinks are shared. On paper, things couldn't be better. But despite the assurances from the village, Fiona cannot shake her feeling of disquiet. She starts plotting an imaginary escape.

Taking herself away from the group, she decides to pack a bag, just in case. And I'd already started preparing a secret survival pack. And by this point, I'm really feeling quite panicky in my chest, and I can't really remember what I put in that backpack. All I know is that I put passports, maybe some water. Emergency bag prepped, Fiona heads back up to the veranda, ready to reiterate her belief that something is wrong. When she rejoins the others, she finds the mood has changed.

Now nobody is dismissing what they're seeing as mere fog. Outside, the air is pungent and sharp. There's no doubting the smell. Smoke. The sky has changed, too. Dark clouds swirl overhead. The setting sun is a ghostly orange disk sitting low on the horizon. The adults stand on the edge of the veranda, peering over the railing and pointing towards

the bay. Fiona's brother-in-law is back inside, calling the town again to ask what's going on. After a few minutes, he returns, reporting that there is now some talk of a fire. But they're not sure where. Again, the message is that it's probably nothing to worry about. There's really a strong smell of smoke, and I'm absolutely certain there's no question in anyone else's minds now that there is a forest fire. But again the reassurance that it's not necessarily very close it could be far away and there's also the sudden realization that it's super super windy. So now the conversation starts to turn to, okay, well, if there is a fire, let's find out where it is and let's get a bit more information about the wind. For a moment, it seems like everyone is finally on the same page.

But when Fiona again suggests leaving, the others still aren't convinced. It's decided that they should stay put until they can get more information. The powerful gale continues, and the smell of smoke gets stronger. So this carries on for a long, long time, and then it becomes apparent that the sky is actually turning hot orange orange and the smoke is really

thick and there's no question that there's a forest fire very close and there is a wind coming that may blow in our direction. The increasingly fraught discussions are brought to a sudden halt. On the front drive they hear a car pulling up. Everyone had totally forgotten. It's the local caterer they hired for the weekend. They rush out to ask him what news he has from the town. But as they arrive at the front, the car is already turning

and heading hastily back down the mountain. It seems Fiona isn't the only one who thinks this place is now unsafe As soon as he got there he turned around and drove away again And I remember just saying, I want to go too, I want to leave Like please, I want to go And they were like, he's crazy, he should stay, it's too dangerous now There's no way that you should drive through this It moves at such

pace. He is potentially not going to make it. Just an hour ago, no one thought there was anything to worry about. Now they're speculating whether it's too late to leave. What's the best thing to do here? Are they safe inside the house or not? If they go now, can they still escape the danger? As the difficult questions intensify, so does the wind. It's now blowing hard down the mountain. Fiona looks up again at the reddening sky. Maybe it's better to stay put, to hunker down where they are.

As they head inside, the adults keep discussing what to do, who to call, what precautions they should take. There's the barbecue and the propane tanks, the furniture, firewood and vehicles, all combustible, all in close proximity to the house. As the others debate next steps, Fiona turns her attention to making the kids feel as safe as possible. The children, I've taken them in to their room where there's these piles of clothes and shoes and their little lives have been unpacked out of the car. I put the children to bed or snuggle them up and they're like, mommy, I can smell smoke. I'm like, I know, but you remember that fire we saw miles away, miles and miles and miles away. It's just that mommy, I can smell smoke. I'm like, I know, but you remember that fire we saw miles away, miles and miles and miles away. It's just that smell that we can smell here.

It's fine. Don't worry. I'm going to tuck you up and I'm going to be right outside. And if you're worried, call me and I'll come and sit with you. So I put them all into their beds, definitely shaking. They definitely know there's something wrong. Fiona walks over to the bedroom's heavy wooden shutters and closes them tight, blocking out the deep, crimson sky. Then, as calmly as she can manage,

she wishes them all sweet dreams and pulls the door to. There are a few moments of quiet before everything erupts. Five minutes later, they come running out of their room. Mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy! It's on fire! We're on fire, fire, fire! That's all they say. They'd opened the window in their room, they'd opened the shutters,

and they'd looked outside. There is a frenetic rush out the front door. The children are highly agitated by what they've seen, and as soon as the group steps outside, it's clear why. The air is suddenly thick with ash. Embers, sparks and crackling pine needles swirl around them. Everywhere, fiery shrapnel is raining down. So they take us by the hand and we go around the corner of the house

and there is just a wall of fire. Just a wall of fire just coming straight towards us above the tree line moving inexorably towards them is a giant mass of furious flames dozens of feet high the heat is unbearable there's fire in the air it's like it's a bonfire that you're blowing through with a massive wind has basically sent the fire straight to us and it's just tearing through there's ash everywhere you couldn't possibly stand where we'd just gone around this corner it would be like standing on the edge of a bonfire. Rapidly, everyone retreats back inside. As the others start shouting instructions to one another,

Fiona gathers the children and hurries them down to the basement. They push together cushions and mattresses, trying to make things as comfortable as they can. Then Fiona goes to a freezer and comes back with a box of ice creams, which she hands out, something to keep the kids occupied. The flurry of activity continues upstairs, but it's unclear exactly what the plan now is. All Fiona can do is focus on her three little ones.

We sit down in the basement to talk about anything but the fire. And I stayed downstairs with no concept of what was happening, or if there was a plan, or if there was an escape route, or if we were going to be rescued. We start off with actually quite a kind of jovial time. Like, right, okay, what are we going to do now? Step number one, middle daughter Malinka, the seven-year-old, wants to rescue her turtle. Her turtle is a giant turtle teddy which she sleeps on in the car

and she was given for her birthday and has to be rescued. Obviously, the second that Malinka wanted her turtle, Daphne wanted her teddies laszlo wanted his fiona calls up to her husband who bounds down the stairs she asks him to rescue the kids cuddly toys aldred looks at her blankly before understanding the importance of the request but getting to the toys won't be easy. They had barricaded the children's room because that was the side that the fire that was coming towards us. And inside that room was everything the children wanted.

So I had to ask my husband if he could unbarricade the room. He broke in, got said turtle, or got what he could, came back down again, and Malinka put her giant turtle teddy into the washing machine where she shut the door and thought it would be protected from smoke and fire, and she would take him out when the fire had passed. With the kids now calm, Fiona assesses the situation.

The basement is connected up to the ground floor by an open stairwell. At the top of the stairs is the front door and a large window. It's the only way out, should they have to make a run for it. Even in this sheltered space, the heat is relentless, the air thick and scratchy. They begin to settle in for however long they're going to be there. We kind of cushion ourselves up and make a kind of little area to sit in. I remember slightly a little bit of who's sitting next to mummy. I remember my son being absolutely delighted to find his snorkeling mask, which he then puts on his eyes so his eyes don't sting

from the smoke anymore. And then I remember the siblings spat because I've only got one mask and everybody wants a mask and that's not fair. I find some COVID masks in my suitcase and the children decide to wear COVID masks to protect them from breathing in the smoke that's starting to fill the basement. They're pretty excited, the kids, because it's a drama and they're kids. And because we're apparently kind of safe at the moment, they are able to have this sort of strange, gleeful excitedness about the disaster. However, upstairs, the same could not be said for the grown-up party that are managing the house. Fiona never goes up herself.

Her job is down here in the basement. But they can hear the shouts and cries from above, the thumping of feet and the scraping of furniture. Eventually, two female family friends come down to keep Fiona and the kids company. Instantly, they're faced with a barrage of questions. The two women tactfully shift the conversation away from the fire and onto other things. All the while, five-year-old Daphne sits quietly between her siblings, her eyes firmly fixed on her mother.

Fiona moves between the various rooms that make up the basement, inspecting the windows and the doors. I am just wetting every towel that I can find and stacking them up under the doors, around the windows and in every crack to try and avoid smoke coming into the house. We try, or the group downstairs, try not to talk about the escape routes with the children, but inevitably they want to talk about how we're going to escape.

There isn't really an answer for that. Whenever another adult comes down to take a breather, Fiona manages to snatch a whispered update from above. The situation is dire. The fire's almost on top of them. They're desperately trying to move anything explosive or flammable out of its path. But the bottom line is, if the flames do reach the house, there's no way out. We talk about how the swimming pool that's right outside this basement

is not a possible escape route because actually smoke hangs on water. So if we get into the swimming pool to survive the fire, we will die because of smoke hangs on water. So if we get into the swimming pool to survive the fire, we will die because of smoke. So we've sacked that off and come to the ever-returning conclusion that we can only just sit in the basement and wait for the fire to pass. The house is modern.

It's made of bricks and mortar. If they can keep the smoke out, maybe they'll be lucky. As the night goes on, Fiona's brother-in-law stays in contact with the village. He says that emergency services know they're trapped. They're out scouring the countryside, getting to whoever they can. But there's no guarantee they'll make it up the mountain tonight. It's the middle of the night. Down in the basement, Fiona and the children huddle under dripping wet blankets.

In the center of the room, there is a bucket of water. Every so often, an ashen-faced adult comes dashing down the stairs and plunges their face into it before heading back up. By this point it is loud and noisy. There are trees and sounds cracking that give us fear every time the sounds pop bang crash around us i never go upstairs i never leave the children if i go to the loo i look at the sky myself and come back absolutely horrified and try not to show them my fear time and again fiona manages to keep a brave face. But then something happens. Something too terrifying to ignore. So this scenario really goes on for a long time,

with nothing really changing. But then at some point in the night, it really did change, and suddenly there's an explosion. I just had no idea what it was. And then pretty soon after that, within a minute, another explosion. Then realized that the wheels on the car were exploding against the house and they were popping one by one by one. And the fire was coming that close to the house and the cars were all parked right up against the house.

The car that I'd been unpacking from was outside the front door on top of the stairwell where we're sitting. Up by that front door is one window, which if it blows, all of the smoke and all of the fire is coming into the basement where we're sitting. The air-splitting explosions rattle the house and reverberate through everybody inside. The fire is closing in. Suddenly, there's a rush of feet as everyone comes crashing downstairs.

Fiona's husband, Aldred, is the last to join. His clothes are stained with smoke and sweat. I remember my husband coming down the stairs and his face just looked wretched. He didn't bother putting his head

in the bucket again. And I knew that that meant he wasn't going to go back upstairs again. And he just looked across from the stairwell and said, I love you. And then it was obvious that there was nothing left. There was no other chance to escape. We were going to die. Aldred joins his family in a group hug under the blankets.

He and Fiona comfort one another and the children, bracing themselves for what now seems inevitable. And we were just waiting for the last car to explode against the door and blow it in. And I just remember a single tear down my husband's face. And the shock and this kind of slow motion moment when we realized that it was the end. And the end of life. But we were all together. So it was the end, and the end of life. But we were all together, so it was somehow okay. It's 1 a.m., and the Drummonds continue

to shelter in the basement, alongside their family and friends. The inferno has reached the house. Three of the four cars in the driveway are already ablaze. At any second, the final vehicle will be consumed. When it goes up, the front door and windows will surely blow as well, flooding the basement with flames and smoke. Fiona holds her children close.

Finally, it comes. First a hissing, followed by a whoosh of flames, and then the explosion. The Dramans grip each other tightly, terrified. But then, something unexpected happens. So the last car does blow against the house. The window doesn't shatter. And almost immediately, there's this huge on the door and this just noise. And I just remember my heart was like in my throat and it just dropped into my chest. I just realized we were going to be rescued.

There was someone there. And I feel like they blew the door open and it wasn't the car that exploded, it was them. At the very last possible second, help has arrived. The house is suddenly filled with clamour, a rush of heavy boots, voices bellowing commands. And this avalanche of noise, of instruction, of like... And shots again. And they're speaking in French.

And there's just like an immediate urgency. And the instruction is, get shoes. If you're not wearing shoes and you're not covered in wet towels, we will not take you. You have under one minute, you will be by this door in single file, and you will run when we say run. The family is thrown into panic. The children haven't got anything on their feet.

While the others gather blankets and towels, Fiona and Aldred tear through the smoke-filled house. They scramble into barricaded rooms, desperately searching for three small pairs of shoes. Somehow, exactly two minutes later, the family is lined up at the front door, shoes on feet, shaking with fear, clutching tightly onto their soaking towels. As the firefighters bark orders, Fiona glances down at Daphne. And I remember my little one just clung to me. She had been so brave. She was only five this whole time.

There'd been no tears, nothing, just trusting in me that everything was going to be okay this whole time. And I just remember her being clung to me like a little koala and shaking. She was suddenly uncontrollably shaking. So they opened the door and they just, go, go, go, go, go. And they're just shoving us one by one through. Stepping outside is like walking into a furnace. They're smothered by monumental heat.

The scorching gases burn their eyes and throats. The smoke is suffocating. Fiona, clutching Daphne's hand, stumbles towards the waiting rescue vehicles. And I could just see complete and utter fire. Just everywhere was fire. So they're just shoving us into cars and this sort of tunnel that they've cut through the fire for us to go through.

Before she knows it, Fiona is sitting in the back of a 4x4, holding Daphne close. They both stare in horror through the metal grill on the rear window. The sight of their own car, or what's left of it, is strangely shocking. The car had been burnt to shreds. It was emaciated. There's nothing left of it. And the car, when you're on a road trip, is your place of safety. It's like the place.

It's mummy's car. Nothing bad happens in mummy's car apart from squabbling. It was just the most devastating thing to her. The other two, I don't even know if they were in a vehicle with me or with my husband. We were just immediately in convoy

and going through fire. with my husband, we were just immediately in convoy and going through fire. The line of emergency vehicles tears out of the driveway and down the mountain road. Fiona can now see why it's taken so long for help to reach them. The mountain path is a smoldering, melting, burning obstacle course of collapsing trees, fiery debris,

and dense smoke. On either side, telephone poles are ablaze, creating tall pillars of flame, attached together by wires like fiery cobwebs. It's obvious they are still a long way from safety. The cars skid and swerve their way through the mayhem. So we're in these vehicles in convoy, going down through the forest, driving through walls of fire. And the trees around us are on fire. Trees are falling in front of us. And there's just a chaos of communication on the radio in the car.

And I just remember these trees falling across the road. We'd have to change our route, and the smoke would mean such that we couldn't see. And there was absolutely no guarantee that we were going to be able to get through this fire in these cars. Time and again, the convoy comes to a violent halt on the narrow road, tires screeching on the hot tarmac. Flames towering over them, the firefighters leap out

with axes and shovels to clear burning detritus from their path. Then it's back into the cars and down the hill. Every turn, they're centimeters from being crushed or consumed by the flames. But eventually, after almost an hour, the vehicles finally come hurtling out of the smoke and into the town of La Garde-Frenay. They've escaped the inferno. It's very early morning on August the 17th. The Drummond family stand outside a bus shelter that's been hastily converted into an emergency triage station.

They have nothing other than the clothes on their back and Fiona's emergency bag of passports, water, and teddies. Looking around, it's hard to comprehend what they're seeing. The hills are an ocean of flames The night glows bright red Despite the thick plumes of smoke Exhausted, they huddle together The wind was overwhelmingly strong And cold, we were really cold And I remember looking back at the mountain with the kids

And seeing the entire mountain on fire. I just couldn't believe that we'd driven through it and it was like Armageddon. So many vehicles, wild wind, policemen, firemen, every service from the army scrambling all over the place. Yet no people. The streets were kind of empty. It was very, very strange. Nine-year-old Laszlo turns to his mum and says something that hits Fiona hard.

Looking at the scene, he said, I don't want to grow up into this world. My generation are gonna die and he was really directly referring to the fact that this was a global warming human error and that he didn't want to live in our world and the last time that we've been together in the car we were talking about the danger of forest fires, when we'd kind of promised there was no chance of that being a reality. I just felt like an absolute phony.

The following hours are a blur. The family are assessed by the medics and given the all-clear. And then at some point they're transferred to a village hall, where families are sleeping on cardboard boxes under golden thermal blankets. The children eventually fall asleep, but Fiona lies wide awake. She is overcome by a searing pain in her head that grows and grows. I just remember the lights being so bright. I just couldn't even turn my head left or right. This headache hit me out of nowhere.

It was like a brick. I couldn't talk. I couldn't really open my eyes. I just couldn't communicate. I was in this corner with the kids and I just, this headache meant I just literally just, I couldn't really cope with being inside my own head. And for two days, we slept in the town hall. We weren't allowed to leave the mountain and we didn't have a car because it had blown up. So we were stuck. Eventually, a friend of Fiona's in-laws offers to put them up in her house.

It's a relief to be out of the shelter, but they're still trapped, forbidden to leave the village as emergency crews continue to fight the last of the blaze. That was pretty traumatic to me because I was in complete shock. This house was surrounded by woods, and that was just the worst place for me in my mind at that time. I couldn't be surrounded by woods. Surely I was just going to walk into a fire again.

Strange thoughts happen when you're in this state of shock. Were we meant to die? All these sorts of things start raveling through. Finally, after another day stuck in the town, they escape. Aldred makes some calls, begs some favors, and manages to organise a way out. The Drummonds fly back to the UK, leaving the charred, devastated French countryside behind them. In the weeks that follow, the fires in the south of France become world news. The definitive cause remains unclear, but very likely it was human error, a spark from a barbecue or a careless smoker.

Tragically, there were two fatalities. It could so easily have been many more, were it not for the brave and tireless work of volunteers and the emergency services. In the end, over a thousand firefighters battled a blaze covering 17,000 acres. Tens of thousands of people were evacuated from their homes. But there is another reason the fires make headlines. The summer of 2021 sees record-breaking heat waves, causing wildfires to rip through southern Europe, North Africa, and the Middle East.

Although uncommon in places like France, forest fires are becoming increasingly likely. So were we aware of any forest fires in Europe? Looking back now, yes, vaguely. Did we think there was going to be one where we were despite looking at a sky with a plume of smoke in it? No. I mean, that sounds ridiculous now. I mean, the photos of the kids, they're all, you know, tan limbs, barefoot running through lavender fields kind of thing. And what happened just couldn't have ripped through our lives more differently. The Drummonds were the very last people rescued from the mountain that night. The family all do what they can to move forwards.

Aldred returns to work. The children go back to school. But the experience has a profound and lasting effect. I became obsessed with being surrounded by water. I spent every single day floating around with no agenda at all. Like I was stoned in our boat in the sea, obsessed with being in the sea. And I think I floated around like that for about two weeks before someone noticed I might be traumatized. Again and again, she replays the events, revisiting their actions and decisions.

In my experience, all accidents are actually a series of bad decisions that all stack up and put you in the wrong place at the wrong time. That's what I think accidents are. We were in that spot. We could have been somewhere else. We could have just said, you know what, let's all hop in the car and get down the mountain and let's just go and have drinks there. Fiona is hugely grateful for the support of the family and the way they rallied together in the aftermath of the disaster.

Even down to the fact that Malinka's toy turtle is safely returned after surviving the ordeal in the washing machine. In the months that follow, Fiona does a lot of soul searching. She says this self-reflection has helped her begin processing the trauma and taught her invaluable lessons. You know, it triggered a whole domino effect of unfolding from myself in the recovery period. I don't think that's a bad thing.

It kind of was a line in the sand at which I reassessed absolutely everything in my life. When you nearly die, it's completely natural to assess how you live. I made a vow to myself never, ever, ever to have my gut instinct overruled ever again. That's not said with spite or regret.

It just cut me up so much. Trauma and disaster and how you translate them and then rework from them in your life going forward. That's the piece of work that matters. And I think it's led me on a journey of healing that is much more aligned with the original instinct that I ignored in the beginning, and that can only be a good thing. In the next episode, we meet former British paratrooper Ken Jones. In 2003, the 26-year-old is adventuring through the wilds of Transylvania, a land of myth and legend, ghost stories and Bram Stoker's Dracula. And it's here, among the cragged mountains and dark forests, that Ken finds himself in

a horror story of his own. After nature deals him a hammer blow, he is left alone in the wilderness, battered and broken, and with carnivorous beasts lurking among the trees. Ken will have to rely on all his training and all his inner resilience if he is to escape these dire straits. That's next time on Real Survival Stories. Listen to Ken's story today without waiting a week by subscribing to Noisa+. That's next time on Real Survival Stories.