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Published: January 16th 2011
11 January 2011 You cannot have lived through today anywhere near a TV or radio without having noticed that, this morning, something big started to happen in Brisbane. Last night as we were looking at the coverage of events in Toowoomba, conversation drifted towards how, or if, the flooding up stream was likely to impact on Brisbane. Chris thought it unlikely that we would end up stranded in Brisbane but said that he thought that if would be interesting to see how the damn built after the 1974 floods would be utilised/cope under the pressure of the waters further upstream. In truth, I wasn't really taking much notice as it was impossible to imagine that the scenes that we were watching online could possibly arrive in a suburb near us and, in any event, we were leaving in under 24 hours and surely we would get away with no difficulty - this was Brisbane after all.
Waking up this morning, we immediately had an inkling that Brisbane could, today, be at risk. The rain that had stopped for all of an hour yesterday was still coming down with all of its might this morning. It was grey
and gave not one inkling that it had any intention of letting up. So, we flicked on the radio and the computers and set about attempting to establish our prospects of getting to the airport and catching our flight to Sydney. It didn't take that long before we learnt that Brisbane was at risk so we decided that we needed to allow ourselves extra time - better to have hours waiting at the airport than to not make it at all.
Our flight was due to take off AT 5.15pm, so we decided to catch the 12:10pm bus from just around the corner thinking that it would give us plenty of time. This was a day when we would definitely need to make use of our rain ponchos - if we didn't need protecting from the weather, the contents of our backpacks certainly did.
The bus stop is outside a private hospital and is used as a smoking/lunching shelter by the staff. Today, rather than standing as far back as possible in order to avoid being smoked on, we huddled in in order to shelter from the rain. We hadn't been sitting there for very long when one
Some birds
...we sort of didn't take many photos these two daysof the smokers asked us where we were going - damn, the backpacks gave us away again - advising us at the same time that the city was underwater. I told her that we needed to get to the airport to which the response was
"good luck". We had heard on the radio that that was the case but the reporter hadn't said that the city roads had been closed nor had the transport websites indicated that the buses or trains were yet affected. The lady advised us that it would be better to get a taxi to the nearest station and pick up the train to the airport from there.
Deciding that local knowledge was probably more reliable than the internet, concern started to set in. Fortunately, there was a taxi rank just next to the bus stop, so we headed 100metres down the road to wait there. No doubt due to the weather, there were no taxis to be seen and it eventually reached the time that the bus was due. Worried that we might end up without either a bus or a taxi, we wondered back towards the bus stop and were just in the
process of hailing a taxi when the bus arrived. Gregg, very politely, thanked the taxi for stopping for us and advised him that we would actually take the bus.
We had been sitting on the bus for around ten minutes, when my phone beeped in my pocket. It was Chris saying that his office had been closed because of the flooding. This could prove more than problematic for us since that office is just opposite the station that we were heading for. I called him and he suggested that we would probably be wisest to go straight for a taxi as it had just been announced that all trains would stop in half an hour. Great, and what were the chances of actually finding a taxi for hire on a day like today?
The roads were absolutely packed, there were snaking long lines of people waiting at every bus stop and sense or alarm to panic, mixed with disbelief, in the air. There was a growing sense that something catastrophic was about to happen. The number of people heading towards the burst banks with us, also made it feel like nobody quite believed that the flooding that followed would, or perhaps could, really happen.
As we sat patiently in a traffic jam our second kind samaritan of the day struck up conversation with us. He told us that it was predicted that the flooding would peak at a level higher than in 1974 (following which the Wivenhoe Dam was constructed, in part, to avoid a repeat performance of that year's destruction) tomorrow and then asked us where we were headed. This very kind guy, made sure we got off the bus in the right place and then walked with us far enough to show us where we needed to go to get to the station.
I have never before, and probably never will again, moved quite so quickly with a backpack on my back. We had no idea whether the trains would still be running (and even less concept of whether the half an hour that Chris had advised us of had passed) but the sheer number of people dashing in the direction of Central train station indicated that we might just be lucky.
It was around 1pm and the station was packed, highly unusual for the middle of a working day, I would guess and all trains other than those to the airports were running for free. The barriers were all open and the entire station was keen to get away. As we were standing in the queue for tickets (and banking on being able to use them if we were able to buy them) Chris and a work colleague happened to wander by and, following a hasty goodbye, we headed off in the direction of the platform - there was a train in ten minutes and we were determined to be on it.
As we emerged on to the platform, it was absolutely packed and I began to wonder whether we would make it on to the train. Then, Gregg pointed out that there was actually a train due in to this platform before ours and, thankfully, the platform pretty much cleared when that train arrived and we resumed waiting for our train as the rain carried on pelting down outside.
The relief was palpable when the train arrived and we all clambered on board. As we wound our way towards the airport, the scale of the eventual destruction began to make itself clear (in alarming proximity to the airport in fact) as we passed rivers that had burst their banks to an extent that neither of us has previously witnessed.
We arrived, after a two hour journey, over three hours early for our flight but, at least we were there. Our flight was already showing at 50 minutes delayed but we were advised that the airport was closing only for around 15 to 20 minutes at a time during storms. Then, as we were waiting to board, Jeff (who we were going to staying with in Wollongong) called to say that he had just seen a news report which said that Brisbane airport had been closed. This was news to us!
Whether the airport did ever close on 11 January I don't know but, an hour and a half late, we did catch our flight and breathed a sigh of relief as we touched down in Sydney another hour and a half later. Jeff (also known as 'the life saver') picked us up and a few hours later we settled down to our first night's sleep since we arrived in Australia without being serenaded by the rain.
12 January 2010 Even the relatively short distance that we travelled yesterday had taken it out of us and, if it is possible to do so when living outside of conventional timetables, we both overslept. Once up and dressed, Jeff's girlfriend, Lydia, kindly offered to show us around the local area which provided us with our first glimpse of the coast since we arrived in Australia. Wollongong is a steel producing town. As a Brit, you might imagine that industrial means ugly and grey but Wollongong is quite the opposite. Somehow, the industrial chimneys are not a blot on the landscape and do not detract from the beautiful coastal backdrop - even on overcast days like today. Lydia took us along the coast stopping to survey surf breaks along the way. There was even one beach reminiscent of Constantine in Cornwall.
On the way back in to Port Kembla, Lydia dropped us at the local shopping centre where we set about shopping for dinner - Gregg had decided that he fancied making nachos - and wondered around the faintly familiar shops before walking back along the characteristically empty suburban streets which allowed me a few minutes of soaking in the smell of freshly cut grass - I didn't realise that I had missed that one!
After dinner (which was another good one) we chatted over a glass of wine or two before retiring to bed.
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