The fire came fast. But somehow — through courage, luck, and stone walls — our house survived. So did every single animal. This is the story of those terrifying two days, and of what comes after the flames.
At first, it seemed far away.
I was in the UK, checking the fire app, and saw there was a blaze near Aranhas, worrying, but not unusual for this time of year. I messaged my husband in Portugal to check in, and he sent back a photo. The flames didn’t look distant anymore.
As the situation escalated, I sent him a list of essentials to grab, documents and precious items, and told him to evacuate with as many animals as he could, especially the vulnerable ones: the kittens and our rescue cat Mia, who wouldn’t stand a chance alone.
Hours passed in tense silence.
Later that night, around 10.30pm, he sent me a final video. He’d been out helping a neighbour save their olive farm. Then, as the fire surged closer, he loaded what he could into the car. But just as he was about to drive away, Mia bolted straight towards the flames.
And then he said the words I’ll never forget: “The house is gone.” The flames surrounding the house was the last thing he saw as he left.
We had spent five years renovating that house. It had finally been signed off, habitation license granted and insurance approved, just two weeks before. I was devastated.
A Miracle in the Ashes
The next morning, everything changed again. He called to say the house had survived.
Thanks to quick thinking, a firebreak around it, and sturdy stone walls, he’d been able to hose it down before leaving. The flames stopped just short.
At 2am, he went back, barefoot, because he’d worn through his shoes the day before to try to save the sheep shed and any remaining animals. This time, he found help. The local fire crew assisted him in soaking down the structure, and that building was saved too.
But the fire wasn’t finished. The next day, it reached the village.
He had to evacuate my deaf cat he lived in the village, and there was no way he'd hear danger coming. Mum’s cats disappeared, and for hours I sat helpless, watching updates, wondering which animals were alive and which were gone.
Incredibly, they all made it. The village house stood. The cats returned. Even the animals we thought lost found their way home.
Mia came back the next day, Splash the day after and Rosie came back after five days. Charlie, who we were certain had perished, reappeared after two and a half weeks.
My husband ran over 30km during the second day through smoke, ash, fear, and exhaustion. He’s recovering now, with just a minor burn on his ankle. But emotionally, we’re still finding our footing.
What We Lost
We lost:
- Our trailer
- All our hay stores and fencing
- The eucalyptus wood we harvested for ourselves and to sell
- Many of our olive and cork trees, some very old and special
- Time, energy, and the sense of peace we had built here
We had to buy in huge amounts of animal feed because there’s nothing left for them to graze. The landscape is blackened. The scent of smoke still clings to everything.
But we also kept so much: Our animals. Our home. Our lives.
And with that, we can begin again.
Rebuilding
Right now, our focus is on rebuilding fencing to keep the animals safe and clearing as much of the burnt wood as possible so we’ll have fuel for winter. Victor is doing most of the work himself. It’s hard, slow going but it’s happening.
We’ve set up a GoFundMe to help with the enormous costs of rebuilding, replanting, and resupplying the basics that burned. If you’d like to support us, you can find it here:
We don’t expect miracles, but every bit helps and every message of support we’ve received so far has meant more than we can express. We’ll keep sharing updates here, as the land recovers and we begin to rebuild the life we had. The olives may regrow, it will take years, but we’re hopeful.
Portugal has taught us many things over the past few years. This week, it reminded us how fragile life on the land can be but also how strong community, courage, and sheer stubborn love can be too.
Thank you for reading.
Thank you for caring.
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More from the diary that shares the same themes.
We’ve fenced off the middle section of our land — the most fertile area where the horta and the well sit. With the ground freshly turned and blue skies overhead, it feels like the farm is breathing again.
Our poor vines have had a rough few years — first the goats, then the sheep, and finally the fire. Surely next year will be their year… right?
The fire left our fields bare and our animals without grazing. With fences destroyed and hay stores gone, we’ve had to move the sheep and goats into a smaller pen while we slowly rebuild.
