Heathcote: Lived experience, laughter and hard truths
Friday morning’s Immersive Bushfire Experience workshop in Heathcote began early: with a heartfelt thanks to Vicki, the heart and soul of the community in her role at the Community House, who met us at 7:30am to unlock the Oval Room at the Barrack Reserve. Her care, connection and quiet leadership set the tone for a session that was both deeply human and highly practical.
One unexpected and joyful moment came from next door, where a Zumba Gold class was in full swing as we began our workshop. As participants introduced themselves around the room, the unmistakable opening bars of Simply the Best floated through the wall. Coincidence? Probably. Perfect timing? Absolutely. It brought a ripple of laughter into the room and a reminder that even on heavy topics, joy and connection have a place.
The group brought impressive diversity in experience and perspective. In the room were SES and CFA members, ambulance staff coming off night shift, community organisers, people who had lived through Black Saturday, others with vivid childhood fire memories, and participants whose personal histories meant this workshop wasn’t theoretical: it was visceral.
One participant had been trapped on a train on Christmas Day during a fire emergency. Another described fleeing as a child, being told by their father not to look at the flames as they drove through smoke-choked roads. Others spoke quietly of friends who had lost control in the moment, of fear lodging in the body, of the smell of smoke still triggering anxiety decades later.
And yet, despite the weight of these stories, there was laughter in abundance. Quick wit. Gentle teasing. Warm connection. The energy in the room didn’t drain: it lifted.
One participant’s feedback captured the impact clearly:
“We have a solid bushfire plan that we practise regularly but I’m still leaving today with some changes and adjustments. These two hours were an extremely good use of my time. Thank you!!!”
Peter Duncan
Once again, the importance of having more than one plan came to the fore. Not just Plan A — but B, C and D. Participants spoke of children, illness, fatigue, pets, parents, and weather all reshaping decisions in real time. Heathcote’s group grasped quickly that preparedness isn’t a document: it’s a living process.
Conversation also touched on something refreshingly honest: how bushfire discussions sometimes become polarised along gender lines. One participant spoke candidly in their feedback about feeling blamed. Through the workshop discussion, however, the conversation shifted from “who’s at fault” to something far more productive:
How do we make better decisions together?
As always, one of our quiet highlights came during the VR. With headphones on and the outside world shut out, participants became absorbed, and occasionally vocal. The running commentary, the exclamations, and the gasps were signs that the experience had done exactly what it was meant to: reach the nervous system, not just the intellect.
Feedback also included thoughtful suggestions: more time, more discussion, and questions about what to do if “plan A” is no longer possible. These are exactly the conversations that help shape where Immersive Bushfire Experience goes next, and we are grateful for them.
Heathcote left us with full hearts: wise voices, honest feedback and strong humour.
Thank you, Heathcote, for your trust, your candour, and your generosity.
We look forward to returning.
As we packed up the workshop equipment for the last time in 2025, we found ourselves reflecting on everything we had learnt and all the communities we had been honoured to work alongside during the past fifteen workshops. We drove out of town with a heavy car boot and light hearts, grateful for the generosity, honesty and courage of the people we had met.
Up next: collating the participant data and drawing together the insights and learnings from across the program. Stay tuned for updates: we’re only just getting started.
