Cyclone Kirrily: A Long and Dark January

This is a log I kept of my experience of Tropical Cyclone Kirrily, which made landfall in my home city of Townsville shortly after the turn of the year. This was used in the writing of my published book “A Time For Volunteers.” I hope this provides a perspective of a historic event worthy of sharing. That said, “As seen through the eyes of an ordinary citizen” might be slightly misleading in terms. Enjoy…

25/01/2024:

This morning, after a really bad sleep, I wake up to see the balcony cleared and all loose things tied down. A series of grey clouds were building on the horizon over Magnetic Island. I remember the feeling from Cyclone Yasi, the calm before the coming storm. The wind doesn’t feel like the gentle breeze, but an eerie feel. It was quiet all around. We were just waiting for the rain.

Magnetic Island then disappeared behind a grey wall of water. The show had begun.

I had begun to open Microsoft Word on my laptop and take a position on the keyboard. The floods have taught me to archive my thoughts during events like these. They may come in handy later, for either telling a personal story or contributing to knowledge of the wider event…

It’s the 25th of February again, around five years to the days of Paluma and the floods. Cyclone Kirrily is here. The Bureau of Meteorology warns the Cyclone will bring more dangerous weather in coming hours with winds of up to 140 kilometres per hour. Locals have boarded up businesses and battered down the hatches in preparation for the Category 2 system, which is expected to intensify throughout the day before making landfall in Townsville.

Residents from Ingham to Hinchinbrook are being told to take shelter now as destructive winds from Tropical Cyclone Kirrily lashed the region. Magnetic Island, Townsville and Palm Island residents have also been told to stay inside. Queensland Premier Stephen Miles says a state of disaster has pre-emptively been declared. We were prepared and ready for the worst, now we waited and hoped for the best. The message to Queenslanders was that now is the time to make sure that you are ready, and make sure your emergency kit is topped up. The Mackay mayor was warning residents not to be complacent. Remember, these things could change. By this point, it was about 420 kilometres from Townsville, but changes could be caused by any movement a couple of degrees north or south, and then the whole scenario changes again. Cases of the potentially deadly disease melioidosis were also on the rise in the Cairns region after heavy rain and flooding.

The emergency warning signal blared for the Townsville region at that moment and the idea was to be getting home and locking down as of now. The DJ, who I remember being named Mitch, said, “Now when I talk about the region, I’m talking about Magnetic Island. I’m talking about Palm Island as well, plus the Burdekin and the Hinchinbrook shelter shires. If you’re in any of those areas, you should take shelter now and ensure your property and belongings are secured. So that’s Magnetic Island as well. If you’re on the island, you’re encouraged now to boil drinking water to last at least three days in the event water supplies are impacted by the weather event and what’s more, an emergency warning is current if you’re on the water near or at the Whitsundays, Townsville, Bowen or Abbott Point ports. Those waterways are now closed, and vessels are not to leave their cyclone moorings until after the official all clear is given. Mariners are urged to keep up to date with conditions and monitor local VHF channels for the latest information. So, in the department of Townsville area, or getting up there around Mission beach and Tully and so forth, the idea is get home and lock it down.”

I had sent a text to ABC Radio’s text line. They’ve responded shortly after, much to my excitement. At quarter to three, I had a conversation with Mitch, after the enthusiastic producer put me through, after hearing I was in the middle of writing a book about the 2019 Townsville floods. After finishing his conversation with the other person, I was put through. I told him about my view on my veranda, how there was indeed violent rain and wind, followed by a few deceptive patches of sunlight. He showed particular interest in my book and I pointed out that the community spirit that I had seen in the 2019 Townsville floods was also present here for all to see. I said perhaps we will see the Tinnie Army make a comeback, Which, he correctly pointed out, was a right cracker! Perhaps it didn’t come this time, but the Chainsaw Army definitely made up for it. He wished me and the others well, and we concluded the chat. It was a shame that I had no recording equipment on me at the time. That was quite a proud moment. So, if you were listening to ABC radio around quarter to three on the day of the cyclone… Yes, that was me. Now I kind of feel like I have to finish the book…

Prior to that, they were talking to people in the area, the radio goes to the people in the regions affected by Cyclone Debby. There’s still a bit of a hangover in that region. People remember the community spirit. There’s talk of something called the Chainsaw Army, which now that I think of it, sounds like something out a zombie apocalypse movie. Instead, it’s a term for members of the local community who bring their chainsaws to prune fallen branches. These names are just bizarre, aren’t they. “That’s the big secret to the whole thing.”

The rain stops… It’s quiet. Too quiet. The residents are at home, locking down and sheltering in place. There’s talk of the shelters. I feel sorry for those taking shelter there, especially since there’s a risk their home may be lost.

The dam’s at 60%, so there’s spare capacity. There may not be a repeat of the floods, for it could fill to 110%, so any discharge would be dealt with.

It’s coming this evening…

Occasionally, they play something with some spirit, such as Something About This Town by Brittany Elise. Its melody and lyrics are a welcome addition, even as the wind picks up. But they’re right. There is something about our town. Did you get it? The DJ loved that song. I share his feeling of being very proud to live in an area where that song comes from and understands it. The community working together to get it all cleaned up. By the end of the day the streets were all cleaned and look like a million bucks… Then there was Rain On Me, and the Ringer and the Princess, just to name some.

The cricket wasn’t looking good either.

Even in the TV room, the wind comes in. It’s cool, but not comforting. At 4:56PM, I learned that it is now Severe Tropical Cyclone Kirrily, and it’s due to make landfall later this evening with winds gusting up to 165 kilometres an hour. Residents were often advised to seek shelter now with destructive winds expected to hit the city from set 7:00 PM tonight. A public cyclone shelter had also been opened in Ingham to Townsville’s north at the Ingham State High School. The shelter can hold up to 800 people but is expected to be locked at 6:00 PM. Anyone seeking to use these shelters were advised to do so. Immediately to the South, an emergency warning had been issued by the Whitsunday Regional Council advising people in the Bowen area to also seek shelter and stay off the roads. Images from Mackay’s weather radar remain unavailable on the Bureau of Meteorology website or app. In a statement to ABC, the Bureau had confirmed the technicians were currently investigating and working to have the radar back online as a matter of priority. It said the Bureau’s forecasts and warnings were not impacted by this outage and continued to be published on the bureau’s website and on the BoM weather app. But Mackay residents have expressed their frustration and are concerned about the radar’s future viability.

The rich irony of that one… So just to fill in, there was this massive ruckus about the radar going offline for six months and then everyone in the Mackay and Whitsundays regions went, “Really… We’re coming to the wet season. Kind of a handy piece to have!” So, it was all hands in the bilge pumps and they got it up and running a little bit earlier than we thought, which was sensationalised just before Cyclone Jasper. Someone had said to someone “One job, you had. One job!”

There were two Townsville shelters open. One on Walker Street, another on Heatley Secondary School.

As the day turned to dusk, the wind began to pick up. It was soon becoming a fury. The trees swayed back and forth with increasing violence. The hill was coming alive. When it didn’t smell of moisture, the air was instead smelling of plants. A text I sent to ABC Radio that they read aloud warning of squall patterns. It wasn’t Yasi levels of bad (although it would be pretty close.) The Eye was coming.

The new Radio DJ described the storm. “There’s no other way to describe it and nothing I can say is going to take that away. But just know that everyone else that’s listening to this right now is wishing you well whether you know it or not. The fact that people are tuning in from around Australia and I’m seeing text piling up here from people tuning in Victoria, South Australia, England. So just try to hold onto that. You’ll get through this and then we’ll start to clean up tomorrow.”

It’s funny how everything old can become new again. For many of us, actually, in all honesty. You know, we might have forgotten that this was how we used to ride out cyclones without all the modern technology, individually sitting around the radio, maybe playing some board games under candlelight. That was the way that we would have thought about preparing for a cyclone not that long ago. But now with all the modern technology, the battery charges, the power banks and the like, you know, you could have downloaded probably four days’ worth of shows if you had enough memory and not necessarily engage with the rest of your community via the radio, but why do that when they can be here with us?

As night fell. It was really starting to escalate. The wind was roaring. The trees were shaking and groaning louder than ever. There would usually be a few moments when it was gradually rough, followed by an even more powerful squall.

Suddenly, a green flash silently cracked through the suburb, and the houses, ours included, then plunged into darkness. We were all in the dark then. The only sources of light were some far away streetlights and traffic lights, but even those cut out at least twice, gradually returning shortly after. Everybody broke out the torchlights following that. My water canteen serves me well.

Then, around 10PM, the wind gradually dies down. Eventually, it comes to a stop, more or less. The rain seemed to disappear earlier, too. We are in the eye — Cyclone Kirrily doesn’t have a tightly formed eye — it is wide and clear. I go to the shower and prepare for a hot sleep.

I was reading Son of the Crown by KJ Burrage, a Mackay author. And then the wind picks up again, with still more vigour. The eye has passed and the winds are now coming from the north. I had to close my windows tightly to prevent water getting in. The wind whooshes and whistles outside. We aren’t out of the woods yet.

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The night that followed was humid and muggy, made worse by me having to latch the windows, lest the wind pull them open again. It was to the TV room couch, I went, next to the dog. That was only marginally better. Might as well ride it out in company, though. I have no idea how I was able to achieve sleep that night.

26/01/2024:

The morning breaks. The sun was rising and breaching the clouds in an orange light. The wind had calmed. The rain had gone. Even after the darkest nights, morning always comes. As Roger Whittaker sang about on my old MP3 player, everybody talks about a new world in the morning. That new world takes too long. A new tomorrow was coming on.

Power is out for 90% of the town.

Driving to the Townsville Sailing Club, I saw the road had been cleaned pretty well. Still, there were plenty of tree branches scattered throughout Queens Gardens and the Strand. The Sailing Club served its members well as an oasis of power during a blackout. Small wonder, then, that it was a heaven-send this day.

Today’s volunteering work was getting a broom and sweeping vegetation off verandas and paths. A more close-to-home work than the floods, but I do what I can. There’s work to be done anyway. Castle Hill was in view, undergoing a change in fauna setup once more. The heat and humidity is challenging, which is why I wore a sports shirt which breathes. I went to help Dad sweep out all the branches, leaves and muck out of the driveway. With that piled up outside our house, we could only hope the City Council was in a generous mood and pick it up. The rest was put in the wheelie bin. Despite the heat, it was still a lovely, sunny day out. Around us was the stillness of midday accompanied by the occasional birdsong. Some lost media I dug up from the mid-2000s made for a degree of entertainment.

With that out of the way, all we do now is wait for my uncle in Charters Towers to bring generators over for the family.

Uncle Bartley made it, and we managed to create a decent dinner with the gas stove. The substation took a real beating, word is, and its effects can be felt as far as Cardwell.

A generator is up and running for both houses. Despite some difficulties, we were able to score a deal of power. The light of the full moon breaks through the clouds.

I lie in bed writing this in total darkness. A fan provides moving air, and I can have my windows open without worry of rain, or even winds. The air is still outside, a sharp contrast to the whistles and roars of last night. The only noises are the quiet chorus of crickets in the bush, and the motoring of the generator.

This very much reminds me of the days after Yasi. Darkness covered the sky and the ground for the first time in a long time. We were like this for at least two nights back then, maybe more. Only the lights of the occasional car down Gregory Street cast an artificial sort of light. My unique, neurodivergent mind still had imaginary friends back in that day, and I went down another journey in the land of imagination, where we were a force of light comprised of humans, animals and aliens, taking to the skies in science-fiction planes and defeating the aliens that represented the cyclone. It was a fun trip in my mind, and those little adventures inspired me to write later on. If I were not charging my phone, I would surely listen to some more of Roger Whittaker’s music like I did back in those nights. His Mexican Whistler song, which has melodic whistling accompanying the delightful acoustic guitar instead of vocals, was so delightful in that moment. His music in general stands out to me.

Here, only the moon casts any large source of light, just like it did in Manau, Papua New Guinea during my time on the YWAM Medical Ship in 2017. That was one of the most remote areas one could ever be, and in the moment of night, I thought nothing. Once again now, for the first time in a long time, I think about nothing. Nothing ahead and nothing before.

Usually, I keep myself isolated from the world of social media in moments like this. Right now, I have said what I had to say to everyone, and there’s no longer anything worth sharing. I not only conserve power, but conserve peace of mind as well. That said, one memory forces its way forward for a fleeting moment. A memory of the past I’d rather move on from… Unrequited love. Clearly, I remember we had fun times together eight years ago all the way to six. It was an interesting crossing of paths and a moment of friendship soon blossomed. It was welcome at a time of moving on from another past on a journey through a diploma taking many forms. I had always thought her so beautiful, free-spirited and philosophical. Those long walks at night were welcoming moments of thought. Sadly, our differences became too many, our lifestyles too far apart, and our disagreements unresolvable in today’s world. All hope I had was lost when I realized her heart had belonged to someone else the entire time, and any faint hopes I held on to were foolish optimism. This was not the place I would have contemplated this. I would have taken to the moonlit beach, and there I’d sit down in sand. All the time, I’d be still, thinking silently. I know you didn’t love me, but I should have let you know… Goodbye.

Well, that’s enough philosophizing. I had hoped to finish this on a more positive note. It may be dark, but the end of the tunnel is nearer than it was yesterday.

Not a good time for the water to run out. Oh, dear…

27/01/2024:

Next morning, it’s a rough wake up. The generator ran out of fuel around three or four in the morning, killing my fan. To add insult to injury, rain comes in morning, forcing me to close the windows again. I’ve sweated so much in my bed it really needs a changing. Apparently, the Ergon folk need the whole day to plan, then they’ll go out and gradually fix the lines. Problem is, there’s 82 outages the last time I looked at the dashboard. It’s going to be a while… Uncle Bartley told of how Magnetic Island’s roads got so messed up, there’s no getting into Horseshoe Bay and that Palm Island doesn’t have a cyclone shelter. TikTok clips showed that Maggie residents had a bad time indeed. We were also lucky where we are, we get any sea breeze, and he pointed out that others like West End will be hot.

We moved the generator to under the house. It was a heavy beast to get up two small sets of stairs. The dogs Bindii and Minnie are panting heavily in the heat. No internet connection still, and my phone’s mobile data is too slow for anything big. Listening to the radio during the cyclone feels like quite a while ago now… Now, I find comfort in old Achievement Hunter videos I have saved on my terabyte drive. And I sit through about several videos in the same sitting. Old Top Gear episodes also came to save the day!

Uncle Bartley got his chainsaw going around 4PM. For me, that meant he was joining the ranks of the Chainsaw Army. Join it he did, cutting stuff out back. More Top Gear to pass time.

That night, after another impressive dinner, Dad and I went to the Sailing Club to have a proper shower. Man, that felt good to have again. A proper covering of water and being able to control its temperature. At home, short cold showers are the go.

Now, it’s just like Yasi, with the town blacked out and heavily improvising. The Sailing Club always was a haven for our friend circle even during the roughest of times. It could used in apocalyptic scenarios, as it more or less was now. I remember when we went to in Yasi, having started playing Mortal Kombat on my Multiple Arcade Machine Emulator around the same time. That shower is a flawless victory.

We’re all still here, so it’s not over! Not by a long shot. The mosquitoes are numerous, having found many breeding spots in the form of still water. I would later learn that a severe heatwave had been declared for the region. I just thought it was the usual summer heat. I mean, with the way things are going with climate change, I don’t want to settle into a new norm.

With the fan on, I read some more of For Whom the Bell Tolls by Ernest Hemingway, reaching Chapter 8. I often read his works when I’m in a philosophical mood, and I recommend it to anyone going through tough times.

28/01/2024

Another sudden wake up. There was no more spinning fan and the flies come in, so there’s no point lying in. Had a dream I was playing ARMA 3 again with friends, or a reboot of S.T.A.L.K.E.R. I need to do that again someday. That last one, set in a barren, powerless world of Chernobyl, I’m being constantly reminded of in these circumstances. It’s a slow start to today still. Now I’m down a basketball jersey and sports shorts, anything to breathe through in this muggy heat.

Uncle Bartley’s sorting things with a chainsaw. He has to get moving homewards, at some point. The tree growing through the fence is no more. Then came the task of dragging all those branches into the green waste pile we were making yesterday. The neighbour had a similar idea with their palm fronds, and they were still without power.

Applied for the community grant. It’d better be good. People keep telling me power’s coming back soon, but it’s optimistic at best. It reminds me of a particular lyric in the Irish folk song Siúil a Rúin, “I wish, I wish, I wish in vain, I wish I had my heart again. And vainly think I’d not complain…”

We were in an Extreme Severe Heatwave that day.

After lunch, made possible by a powered-up fridge, it’s more lazing around. Reading more of Ernest Hemingway. Another thing I enjoy about such reads is that they are adventurous experiences. True to life in some ways and larger than life in others. With no TV, I just watch the portraits on the room instead. There’s a lot of photos of racing yachts from my dad’s sailing days.

The afternoon drags on further. A parcel from my American author friends, James Rosone and Miranda Watson, arrives. It’s a late Christmas present in the form of a collection of their books. The friendly gesture and kind words are especially welcome during this blackout. It’s the complete Rise of the Republic series, a sci-fi universe that I recommend to the moon and back. It’s one that I have contributed towards, and I hope to contribute more still.

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At 5:28PM. The power finally turns back on. The lights glow again, the fans start spinning, and there was much rejoicing. Finally, it ended. Everything bought out for the unusual circumstances is packed up. All the cords coiled up.

Now, at 10:00PM, I sit in my room, graced by the beautiful cool of the air conditioner, listening to the various variations of Siúil a Rúin. The ordeal is over. A new work week starts tomorrow. If you’re expecting a philosophical moral story, all I can say is…

Cyclone sucked. Go to bed.

11/02/2023:

Thought it was over? Well, not just yet. Instead, on this lazy Sunday, I felt compelled to end on a positive note. Indeed, over my past experiences delving into stories I was a complete stranger to, from VHS copies of the Japanese Tales of Magic cartoon to those strange audio cassette tapes found in the olden days of the City Library, I would learn that not every story ends happily ever after. Therefore, every chance I get, I try to find a good note to end on.

While editing that book of the 2019 floods, I shared at the end when I went to the Town Common one more time. The view and the ecosystem at the Common was at least one thing the floods had helped the long run. Many small lakes were decorating the evergreen field.

Today, however, the gates are still closed. That is honestly not surprising, given how much abuse the Cyclone threw at those trees, and how busy the Council workers are cleaning up green waste of every single house. Therefore, I went for a drive to seek something elsewhere, which resulted in me visiting Pallerenda — my father’s old home. Under the warm afternoon sun, life continued as ever. People were making their way to the wide beach and indulging in various activities. Along the way, I was listening to A Moveable Feast, another Hemingway work.

Reaching the northernmost part of Bay Street, I remember a Street Library I gave a Rise of the Republic book to as part of a video I did in 2022. Back then, the small box was empty of books, and unfortunately, it was no different today. Still, that does mean the book I gave is circulating, and Rosone might have himself a few new readers in far corners. That was Book One of that series, Into the Stars. As of today, Book Nine, Into the Uncertain, has been submitted for release on Amazon. That’s something good to look forward to!

On the way back, I decided to take a quick stroll to the beach from one of the parking bays scattered across the road leaving Pallerenda. It is a lovely sight. The wide ocean waves beat against the sand, and the water ahead is dotted with various windsurfers. People with dogs walked about freely, some friends walked and sunbathed alongside each other, and the nature of the beach continues as ever.

It shows how over time, we have recovered just as well. Eventually, after every natural disaster, comes the opportunity to rebuild. There have been many challenges facing us over time. From Cyclone Yasi to the recent floods, to as far back as air raids in World War II. Once the ordeal is over, we just carry on with their lives, because that’s all we can do.

Indeed, when a challenge does rise, there will always be a group of volunteers who stand to meet it. By helping communities in time of need, they also light the darkness. They will make the night less empty. We are all small, and the world is vast. But a world with voices saying something is far greater than a world silent. One voice is small, but, the difference between zero and one is as great as one and infinity. So as long as there are people who chronicle these experiences, our voice will not go to echoes.

The cycle is as natural as the pattern made by the dust on a butterfly’s wings. At times, we understand it no more than the butterfly did, and we do not know when it was brushed or marred. Later, some become conscious of their damaged wings and of their construction. That said, however, some become aware before they cannot fly anymore, but the love of flight remains in corners of the heart. Some, meanwhile, can only remember when it had been effortless….