Ok, the burning (flooding?) question is, I suppose, where to start...I suppose it could be here...
With the rain trickling down the inside of my waterproof, which apart from a pair of shorts is the only thing I had time to throw on in the rush, I look at the end of the boat which is brimming with water. Bugger. 'Here you go, start with this while I look for another bucket' yells the Other Half over the roar of the river on the road as he throws me a bucket. I frantically start to empty the bilges enough so that we can lift the boat enough to drain so that if we do have to get into it at some point during the night, we won't sink.
Or, maybe, it should be a few days earlier with a phone call to my mother on her birthday
'No, we're not cut off at the moment, there are dark clouds in the sky so we'll probably have a bit more rain, but the worst is probably over, I'm just annoyed I didn't get photos of the water over the bridge the other day, that would have been something to see! And don't worry, even if the river did burst it's banks it's got several hundred metres to cover before it gets to us'
Or, probably it should be at the beginning.
It had been raining for days, as previous posts will show. Torrential rain at times that came pouring in through our windows and dripped onto our bedroom carpet from under the air conditioner. Everything was damp, I couldn't even do any washing because it just wouldn't dry.
After one particularly bad night, we decide to head into town and get some emergency supplies just in case the river does come down. Although the river bed is still dry, there is water everywhere else. The poor Subaru is not a happy bunny by the time we've made it into town through the water covered roads and still the rain keeps on coming. After a quick dash through Woolworths (for British readers, here it's a supermarket), not daring to stay in town for more than half an hour at the most - something that is to become common over the next fortnight - we head home at around 10.30am. To our relief, the river is still dry and the rain has eased. The panic is over.
The next day, we see our landlord at about 11am. 'Are you two ok?' 'Yes, we're fine, why?' 'Have you seen the river, it's only just now that people can get across' 'What?!' We'd got home with around half an hour to spare before the river came down in a torrent and flooded our bridge. We'd been completely unawares in our house, a couple of paddocks away from the river, and by the time we made it down there, the water had dropped to this level.
Glad that I had seen actual WATER in the Lower Don River (this is just a tributary, the main river flows behind our house, is just as dry and wider), I was a little upset that I hadn't seen it in flood. Ah well.
A day or so later came the phone call to my mother on her birthday. Famous last words indeed.
The rain didn't stop. A couple of days later we were once again stuck on our little island. The water was over the bridge and we were running out of fresh food so once the water had gone down enough to get across we were once again on a danger run into town, aware that the river could start rising again at any minute. Thankfully, we made it back and were safe again. The car was NOT sounding happy though, driving her through a foot of water was not the best idea.
Finally, after a couple of days, the water was dropping, we had made it into town over a dry bridge and got more supplies (the Other Half's asthma was playing up due to the damp so another inhaler was needed) and we headed home.
The rain was easing, the plants weren't looking at all happy and were in desperate need of sunlight but everything was generally ok.
Then, one evening, after we had gone to bed I said 'Is that lightning?'. Unable to hear thunder, we decided it wasn't and tried to go to sleep. The flashing, however continued. Investigating out the window, we realised that the flashing was a torch from a house near the river, someone was running up and down stairs and occasionally flashing the torch at us. The Other Half, turned and said 'Is it me, or can you hear roaring? And is grass and earth supposed to shine silver?' 'Oh, ****!'
Throwing on a pair of shorts and my waterproof, we run downstairs and out to the road, or at least, the little section of road that isn't river just by our drive. The little section that's getting smaller as we watch as the water creeps towards our house. Frantically we try to work out what to do. The freezer under the house is only on bricks. Luckily we have a packing crate that had pumpkins in it, up onto that it goes. The washing maching will have to survive as best it can. While we're running around, a Ute drives up through the water, it's some of our neighbours come to check that we're ok and aware of what's happening. On their advice, we put the car up into the packing shed at the end of our land, it's a raised floor so it should be safe. Getting bitten by mozzies by the truckload, we work getting things upstairs that we don't want to be washed away. It's at this point we realise that the roof over the boat has been dripping. Probably since the rain began, and the boat is full of water. Frantically we try and empty the bilges enough to raise the front of the boat to drain the water out the back just in case we need to use it and tie it to the shed, so it doesn't float away. Moving the canoe to under the house with lifejackets, oars and torches in it as another escape route is also done.
Finally, wet, hot, bitten to hell, and wide awake, we've done as much as we can. The water, thankfully, is not advancing much more having got half way up our drive. Our neighbour (and the Other Half's boss) has rung to say that he's ok, and that the water hasn't got into his house, just (it's only on a raised bit of ground, not a Queenslander like ours, and it's nearer the river) so we don't have to go in the boat to get them. We decide to see how much of an island we're on. We don't have to go far. The water, at that point, came in our drive about 10 feet from the house from the Lower Don and the Don itself has joined it in the orchard behind the house. We have our own tropical island approximately 40ft wide.
The next day, we go to the river.
There's no sign of the bridge at all, even the road markers at the side. The road flooded sign on the far side is at the water's edge, a good 6 feet above where it should be. The place is a mess.
When the water receeds, we discover that there are 2 huge sandpiles, either end of the bridge, and the bridge itself is covered with wood and debris. When that is cleared that afternoon by the council and a path dug through the sand, it's possible to see that the pile is nearly 3 metres high. Everything is wet, the road is potholed and waterlogged and tremendous amounts of gravel and earth have been washed away.
On a walk down the road leading to behind the house we see the back paddock, where I'm standing is the shallow bit.
 We were about to go for a canoe down but the Other Half got called to go and work for a couple of hours cleaning out the shed which is ankle deep in mud.
By evening, most of the water is gone. The panic is over.
Two days later we're on cylone watch. Tropical Cyclone Larry has come across from the gulf of Carpenteria and there's another low just off Cairns that may turn nasty. It's windy, it's wet, and we're once again stranded.
We have to face the fact that if a cyclone hits us (though one hasn't hit Bowen for 30 years, mind you, they've not had a flood like this one for 40 so anything could happen!) we can't escape. We're cut off from the town pretty much and the town is cut off from everything else. There's no point in risking going often to get food to stock up and there is none. The supermarket shelves are emptying rapidly and there's no way for more supplies to get in. We know that once we've got proper warning we'll have to tape up windows, move the mattress, pillows and beanbag to the back middle room, sit under them, and hope that the house doesn't peel away around us like someone peeling an orange.
Thankfully, the Cyclone disperses and the low moves away. The danger is over, for the minute. We've still got another 2 months of the wet season left.
Saturday was the first time we dared come into town for more half an hour. Only on Thursday did we venture in and only just get back in time (I've now stood in the middle of a flooding river. We watched it rise for an hour over the bridge again, fun)
Last night we watched a storm form above us, dark clouds filled with lightning forming in all directions, forbidding and eery, paying absolutely no attention to the wind direction.
If there is again a long break in this blog, I apologise, please assume that I am flooded in and unable to comment, it's most likely the case.Labels: weather |
We're a bit wet here. Thankfully, our house is not in a suburb that is flooding (well, it wasn't when I left the house this morning...)
