Cane fires return as Qld growers battle to harvest last year's poor crop

Australia Broadcast Center

8 hours ago

A still smoke haze hangs in the air as cane farmer Bill Holding raises his voice to address the gathered crowd.
"Standover fires are probably one of the best fires you'll see — super heat, big flames, heaps of warmth," he said.
"I've probably had 50 years of lighting fires, but I don't do it much anymore. It's all green cane harvesting."
Once a common farm practice, pre-harvest burning is now largely a tourist attraction, but not for this group gathered in a paddock at Calen, about 50 kilometres north of Mackay.
Walking in the wake of the cane fire he is lighting, Bill explains the history to the spectators, but also why this year, farmers have returned to the burn.
The first cane fire in Australia was an accident.
In 1897, the newly completed Mossman Mill crushed its first cane ahead of schedule, after a fire burned through Mrs Annie Rose's crop at Bonnie Doon.
At the time, the crop was cut by hand, using thousands of indentured South Sea Islanders either kidnapped or misled into coming to Australia.
By the 1930s, immigrants from Italy and other European nations had largely replaced those workers, and cane fires remained rare, but not unheard of.
But amid a broader power struggle between the unionised migrant workers and millers and farm owners, burning cane became a battlefield.
An epidemic of Weil's disease, otherwise known as leptospirosis, was being spread by rats in the cane fields of Ingham — and cane cutters were dying.
A 1934 article in the Medical Journal of Australia reported 138 cases of the bacteria that can cause jaundice, kidney failure and bleeding from the lungs.
Burning was recommended to eradicate the rats but the industry resisted, worried it would hurt the value of the crop at a time when prices were already crashing.
Strikes broke out, and in 1936 an Industrial Court order made burning before harvest mandatory in certain conditions.
By the end of World War II, cane fires had become standard practice.
By Bill's time, harvesting had moved from hand-cutting to mechanical, but burning was still commonplace to remove "trash" like loose and dead leaves and weeds.
But there was growing pressure from opponents concerned about the risk of escaped fires, ash falls, lowered air quality and the overall environmental impact.
By the 1990s, new harvester technology allowed farmers to embrace cutting green.
"It was better for the environment, better for moisture retention, better for everything," Bill said.
Despite largely moving on, this season's farmers are once again reaching for the drip torch, reigniting the old technique.
Grower representative group Canegrowers estimated 85 per cent of Queensland's cane was now green harvested, though cane fires are still regularly used in parts of the Burdekin and NSW.
The exception is standover cane — older plantings left in the paddock that could not be harvested the year before.
In districts like Mackay there is an abundance of standover cane left behind from a troubled crush, plagued by wet weather and mill breakdowns.
"Last year was probably the most standover we've left in a long, long time," Mackay Canegrowers chairman Joseph Borg said.
To conduct a cane burn, Joseph said typically two people would don firefighting equipment and head out at night, when it is cooler and easier to spot stray sparks.
"It is a fine art," he said.
"The older guys, it's amazing what they can do with a drip torch and how they can make fire draw into itself.
"They know how to make fire work for you rather than against you."
The dried leaf trash burns from the outside in, eventually running out of fuel because woodier green cane sticks will not burn.
Farmers need a permit to burn, and Joseph said the wider community also needed to be informed about the risks.
"The town has certainly expanded over the last 25 years into the rural areas … people have never seen it before."
He urged inquisitive spectators to slow down if driving near a fire, and account for the smoke.
One cane farm has opted to manage the crowds mesmerised by their dazzling spectacle by turning it into a ticketed event.
Gathered on the banks of a picturesque dam at Oh Deere Farm Stay in Calen, hundreds of people waited for the burn.
Children played on swings as parents chatted in camp chairs, near the barbecue, a full bar and a live band.
As the sun went down, Bill Holding helped light up the cane paddock.
Static crackling gave way to a flame that towered over the field and ripped across the horizon.
Within minutes, the skyline calmed and a smoky dusk settled — the only flames now glowing campfires attended into the evening.
Owner Karinda Anderson farmed in Tasmania before moving to Calen nine years ago, adding the farm stay alongside the cane production.
Four years ago, she started offering farm tours, but this was the first public cane burning event she had hosted.
The rise in burns this year was an exception, but grower Joseph Borg said the industry would always be adaptable.
"Our industry has been around for 100 years … hopefully it'll be there for another hundred," he said.