Walk of flame for EB charity organisation Debra Ireland
AS DISTANT drums bubble rhythmically, a waft of smoke from a nearby fire comes up through my nostrils. The music, smell and gradually dimming light make me think I’m in some far-off African jungle. But I’m not. I’m in the Stillorgan Park Hotel in Dublin and I’m minutes away from walking over burning hot embers.
In reality the music is coming from Brian Moore’s computer and not some undiscovered tribe. The life coach and firewalking instructor had hit play just a few minutes earlier to rack up the tension. Suddenly, this was all becoming very real.
“When you came in here,” says Brian, speaking softly into his microphone, “you were probably thinking to yourself ‘I can’t do this’ but in a few minutes you are going to walk over fire.
“Are you ready?” he shouts.
“Yes!” comes the reply.
“I can’t hear you,” he bellows, assuming the pose of a haka leader (he used to coach rugby). “Are you ready?” “Yes!” comes the reply.
This time there’s more gusto.
There are 50 of us gathered in a run-of-the-mill hotel reception room and by now after a 90-minute motivational talk which involved breaking wooden boards, bending sticks with your throat and trying to harness the power from within, he had us exactly where he wanted us. We were all in something of a frenzy. If the life coaching words he had given us weren’t going to work, he was making sure that delirium and each other’s support would get us through the next few minutes.
We are here to support a great cause. Debra Ireland is a charity which works to bring attention to a horrific condition called EB (epidermolysis bullosa) — a disease which means the sufferer cannot produce certain proteins that hold the skin together and is therefore condemned to a life of blisters and constant chronic pain.
“My daughter is a hero to me,” says Liz Scanlon, mother of 13-year-old Claudia. “Every day she gets up and goes to school without any complaints. She goes through her day and then when she comes home we spend three hours changing her dressing. She goes through unimaginable pain.”

As Cheryl Gunning of Debra Ireland explains, there is no cure and no effective treatment for EB: “There’s no cream you can put on or no amount of painkillers.
“Our patients are incredible heroes they deal with this pain every day of their lives so when you see them, you see so much positivity and strength and bravery. They’re incredible people.”
Compared to the bravery that EB sufferers have to muster, walking over a hot fire is small but it will take courage all the same. As Brian explains, the run itself is about 20ft long. At the start there is a patch of nice cool grass, which actually comes as something of a relief after standing on a cold gravelly car park in our bare feet for the guts of 10 minutes. Brian goes first, “just to make sure it’s safe” he tells us reassuringly (kind of). He has explained that mantras and shouting are a great way of telling the body that you will feel nothing. As the first of the volunteers makes their way across the fire I’m trying to convince myself he’s right.
“Ice cold fire!” scream the crowd and the volunteers as the second person, a lady in her 50s makes her way across the burning carpet and into a water trough at the finishing line.
It is like some satanic ritual. Flames lighting up everywhere, people screaming with giggles, shouting. Everywhere there are flashes as supporters and family and onlookers record our endeavours. It’s all a bit bonkers to be honest and the next thing I know, I’m up.
I approach the grass where Brian is waiting for me with his arm stretched out across my front. He looks into my eyes.
“Are you ready?” “Yeah.” I offer.
He’s not convinced.
“Are you ready?” he screams in my face.
“Yes!” I bellow back.
He lifts his arm. And the clapping fades away. I stare at the grass, then at my feet and all of a sudden who pops into my head but Brian O’Driscoll.
I lift my foot and go.
“O’Driscoll,” I shout, “It’s O’Driscoll, going for the line, O’Driscoll. He’s over.” And the next thing I know I’m in the trough being held by a fireman (and not unfortunately Amy Huberman), bathing my feet with ice cold water. He squeezes my arm a little to suggest I need to get out. I delay for a second or two and then realise I’m holding up the show. As I’m hauled out of this first trough I see another to my right. I make a beeline for it and spend a nice cooling minute twiddling my toes.
“Your feet will probably tingle a little afterwards,” Brian had told us a few moments beforehand. “But you’re not going to burn your feet.” He was pretty much bang on and of the 50 or so people who made it across safely there were no complaints whatsoever. In fact, the overall feeling was one of general euphoria.
“It was fantastic,” says 20-year-old Zoe Palmer from Straffan in Kildare. “I feel great. I was definitely a bit frightened before the seminar but after it I felt I could do it. My feet are fine, a little bit tingly, but they’re not burnt. I’d certainly do it again.”

Aoife Baker from Bray in County Wicklow says her five-year-old daughter asked her to walk across the fire when they both read about Claudia’s story in a local paper.
“We were very moved by what she has to experience on a daily basis,” she says. “So I was delighted to do it. I was very nervous beforehand, very apprehensive. I was telling myself ‘kind of go fast’ as I was walking across but I was elated because I really was worried at the start, especially when we had to sign the disclaimer at reception.”
This was also Jonathan Lambert’s first time walking across fire. The Dubliner admits that he was “a bit frightened” at first but listening to Brian’s talk got him over the line.
“He was saying to use your vocal as much as you can,” says Jonathan. “And I just tried to do that. To be honest, even before I just stepped on I was a bit worried but I just kept thinking, ‘ice cold fire, ice cold fire’. I just tried to visualise the end, stepping into that basin of water. That’s what I was aiming at. And I felt great after it.”
Brian has been conducting firewalks since 2004. After spending a period of time in England with life coach Tony Robbins, the Limerick native returned to Ireland to find there was a gap in the market.
“There was nobody doing firewalks in Ireland,” explains the 52-year-old. “So I found out who trained Tony Robbins, went and did the training and I became a firewalking instructor. I’ve since gone on to become a master which just means I can train other instructors now.” Brian says that people come to him and his workshops for different reasons but for him the basic message behind what he does is quite simple.
“You learn to break through your own limitations and overcome your fears. By conquering the fears that are holding you back you discover power to achieve what you want in any area of your life, be it in your personal relationships, in work, in business or in sport.
“I have fears of my own,” he admits. “But it’s a question of dealing with them. I confront them and I tell myself right, I’m just going to do it.”
Every morning she wakes up, Claudia Scanlon, the bravest person I have had the privilege of meeting, does exactly the same.
You can contact Brian at brianmoore.ie; Visit debraireland.org to hear more of Claudia’s story


