Surviving the storm

(We have town water but the tank was mandated by the authorities back when they believed Professor Tim Flannery's warning rivers would never flow again and "even the rain that falls will not be enough to fill our dams.." That was a few years before the big Brisbane / SEQ floods of 2011, and the many which Australia has experienced regularly since then. Oops!)

But when it comes to cyclones, having lived all my life in The Sunshine State, including North and Central Queensland, I do have some skin in the game when it comes to their ducking, weaving, deceiving and knock-out blows.

Delving into a chapter from my past, one of these involved Cyclone Simon, which caused havoc as far south as Fraser Island (K'gari) 45 years before Alfred:

The Observer newsroom was a hive of activity back in February 1980 as Cyclone Simon moved down the coast leaving a trail of destruction in its wake. We received news mid-afternoon that a three-masted sailing boat, the Thisbe, had been wrecked on Lady Elliot Island at the southern tip of The Great Barrier Reef about 150 km southeast of Gladstone. What a great front page scoop that would make if we could get a first-hand report...

The weather in Gladstone was relatively calm after the tail of the cyclone had passed, and according to the latest information it was creating havoc further south on Fraser Island. What were the chances of chartering a light aircraft and flying over the shipwreck to get some photos and an eye-witness account?

I called my chief photographer Murray Ware into my office and suggested a flight to him. Murray was up for it, he lived opposite Gladstone Airport and he had a mate who operated a charter business, so a flight was quickly organised.

I had a team of reporters and I could have asked for volunteers to occupy the other passenger seat, but this was something I wanted to do myself. Was it going to be dangerous? Probably no more than any other single engine flight unless Simon decided to change course.

Should I call my wife Cathy and tell her what we were doing? No way, what she doesn't know can't hurt her.

Before we left, I issued a general instruction to the newsroom: "If my wife calls, tell her I'm out of the office on business - don't tell her I'm chasing after the cyclone in a light plane…"

After a relatively uneventful flight, the pilot banked the small plane and Murray leant out the side window to snap some pictures while I formed a mental picture of the scene below, including a few humans on the beach, waving as we circled overhead. …The crew obviously had a miraculous escape, but when we made our way back to The Observer newsroom, I wasn't so lucky. I was greeted by the sports editor, who gave me the ominous message:

"Call your wife, she's freaking out about you…"

"What do you mean 'freaking out'? What did you tell her?"

"Oh I just said that you and Murray had taken off in a plane to get some footage of the cyclone damage down on Fraser Island".

"What the f---? We didn't go anywhere near bloody Fraser Island! Didn't you hear me tell everyone not to tell her anything about planes or cyclones?"

"Er, no, I didn't hear that…"

Good one mate. I knew I was in for a blast from Cyclone Cathy at home base that would outdo Cyclone Simon, but no good putting it off, so I called her and tried to weather the storm.

"Are you crazy or do you have a death wish? Don't you care about me and the boys?"

"Maybe, no, and yes." Finally, she calmed down when I assured her it was a calm flight, and I returned to the task of writing the page one scoop featuring one of Murray's excellent photos and my eye witness report (which beat the big metro dailies.)

The island is now a thriving tourist resort and its Facebook page includes this account:

"The Thisbe ran aground onLady Elliot Island after enduring a nightmare ride through the clutches of Cyclone Simon.

"The vessel was heading north from Sydney and ran into the first heavy weather off Sandy Cape on Monday 25 February, 1980. They battled cyclonic winds and swells up to 20 to 30 meters high, before the engine failed and a huge wave smashed into the chart room and washed over the radio. As a result of the heavy pounding of the monstrous seas, the seams of the boat began to open up.

"The five men aboard the Thisbe hoped for a miracle until two days later when they saw Lady Elliot Island about 5kms to the north-west. With three anchors out to slow the impending crunch, The Thisbe came to a sudden halt on the outer reef. All crew made it safely to shore with the help of the lighthouse keepers.

They really were lucky!