East Coast Expedition: Adios Airlie, Bienvenidos Brisbane (Again)

Jan 31, 2011

I woke Monday morning afraid to open my eyes, wondering if the hostel walls were still standing. I pried one eyelid open and then the other. Unless I was still dreaming, the hostel had not crumbled down. Phew. I climbed down from the top bunk and crept to the window to peer at the damage outside. I was relieved to see that the buildings outside were still standing in one piece too, although there was palm tree branches and debris thrown across the streets. Cyclone Anthony had spared Airlie, but had it killed my chance to climb on board the Tongarra again? The suspense was gnawing at me, and so I wasted no time making my way back to ABC Travel to see Andy where I expected to finally get my yes/no answer. How foolish of me to assume. Again, I was met with an ambiguous answer. "Well," Andy said. "They have to go down and check the boat for damages. It it's ok then we are planning to run the trip this afternoon. But right now the boat marina is closed, and if the owner doesn't open the marina then we won't be able to go regardless of the Tongarra's condition. Why don't you come back at noon. We should know by then." Seriously? Didn't these people know that us backpackers had travel plans to make? If this boat wasn't sailing then I wanted to get a move on back to Sydney, but I didn't want to bail just yet. After all the effort I had put into getting back to Airlie, it seemed like a waste to just walk away if there was still a chance of sailing again. Oy Vey! That's all I could say as I headed out the door, oy vey.

I had three hours to kill until noon. I decided first to get some breakfast since my stomach had started growling. I walked down the street to the grocery store only to find a hand written sign taped to the entrance that read: "Closed due to no power. Will open as soon as power comes back." Great. I had forgotten that Anthony had wiped out Airlie Beach's power. I wondered further down the street expecting the Mc Donalds or Subway to be open; those mega-chains always have generators, don't they? They answer, I soon discovered, was no. After doing two full laps up and down the main street the reality of the situation was confirmed: nobody was open for business because nobody had power. Weren't hurricanes a common occurrence around here? Why weren't these Aussies prepared? This could be a problem, I thought. I had no food, and there was no food to be bought. What was a hungry girl to do? Wait, of course.

I quickly learned that the impact of Cyclone Anthony and the power outage affected more than my ability to eat. Since I couldn't eat, I changed my game plan and decided that I would pass the three hours swimming at the lagoon. When I got to the lagoon it was lined with yellow caution tape with signs announcing it was closed until the debris in the water was cleaned. So I changed my game plan again and decided that I would buy a book from the outside book stand (which was the only thing open) and pass the three hours reading. I had spent all my cash (they only accepted cash), so I went to the ATM which was silly of me because I realized as I stood staring at the blank screen that no power meant no ATM access. Duh. It also meant that I couldn't charge my phone which was almost dead, and I couldn't go on the Internet to look up the bus and flight schedules. Oh, and I couldn't call Mick to see if he knew the status of the trip because the cell towers were down. Oy vey. I was starting to get quite anxious.

I retreated back to the hostel and plopped my butt down on a bench to wait for the miracle of power to return. Moments later, in walks none other than that random Canadian guy who accompanied us to Monkey's friend's house party back at Rainbow Beach (remember, I told you he would come back into play). The guy sits down next to me and strikes up a conversation with me, but it wasn't a "Oh hey! I remember you from Rainbow Beach. How are you?" type of conversation. No, instead it was a "Hi! We've never met before so lets get acquainted" type of conversation. I was cracking up inside but maintained a neutral face as he told me all about himself...again. "Yes, I know you're from Toronto," I wanted to say, "because we've had this conversation once before. And yes, I know you just came from Rainbow Beach because I was just there with you dummie." But I didn't. I let the man ramble. I still had a lot of time left to kill.

I almost lost my composure when Mr. Clueless Canadian (as he shall now be called) started to tell me about "this awesome party with the locals" that he went to in Rainbow Beach. "Oh yea?" I replied as fought my cheeks together to avoid bursting out laughing. He indulged me: "Yea it was at this house and there were all these people there playing bongos and guitars and singing. It was awesome. I got to know a lot of the locals really well." I squeezed my cheeks together a little harder. I was dumbfounded. Mr. Clueless Canadian didn't have the slightest clue that I was there too, sitting directly by his side as we banged on bongo drums and sang together. I didn't dare tell him either. Instead, I inquired further. "Oh yea? Which locals?" I asked. "Well," he said pausing to think. "I don't really remember their names (that didn't come as a shocker), but there was this one dude who was really built. I think they called him Monster. And he had this massive beard."  I was now squeezing my legs together to prevent myself from peeing my pants. Was this guy serious? "MONKEY!" I wanted to shout. "His name was Monkey, not Monster you bimbo. And he had massive dreads, not a beard! Clearly, you knew him very well." Was this guy really that idiotic? Apparently, yes. But it is not in my nature to call someone out on their stupidity. It is only in my nature to blab of their stupidity to the world in my blog. But since you all only know him as Mr. Clueless Canadian, I think his identity is pretty well protected.  He will not suffer an ounce of embarrassment. I wonder if he even knows his own name? I wonder if he will ever make it back to Toronto? Oh the things we will never know.

But back to the more urgent matter: the power, the sailing trip, and my sanity. Around 11:00 a.m. I received my first saving grace: the Vodaphone cellphone service was back. I immediately texted Mick to see if he knew the status of the marina and today's sailing trip. After what felt like hours, he messaged me back and informed me that the trip had been canceled. Finally! A definite answer. It wasn't the one I wanted to read, but at least it was a final verdict. After my agonizing morning in Airlie with no power and absolutely nothing to do, there was no way I was going to stick around the desolate place longer than I had too. And there was definitely no way I was going to stick around for the next cyclone to strike in a few days. Anthony was a category two, this next one was suppose to be a category five. I could only imagine that being like ten Cyclone Anthony's on steroids; I had no desire to stick around and find out. So I put my efforts into finding the quickest, easiest way out of town. Fortunately, I found another travel company that was open and running on generators. I booked the next bus to the airport, from where I would catch a plane back to Brisbane. The shuttle bus wasn't until 3:00 p.m. however, which meant I had another three hours to kill. I wanted to cry. God was giving me a mandatory lesson in patience and waiting. I had also learned a few important lessons about how to best prepare for a hurricane: 1) Stock up on food 2) Stock up on cash (not plastic cards, but the flimsy paper stuff), and 3) Stock up on books and/or reading materials. Crossword or sudoku puzzles would suffice too.

Eventually, the power returned to Airlie and I was able to get myself a Subway wrap, check my email and charge my phone. And eventually, 3 o'clock rolled around and I was able to get on the bus and go to the airport. Eventually, after much fumbling and enduring many technical and payment difficulties I was able to purchase my flight back to Brisbane that evening. And after taking off at 7:00 p.m. I eventually made it to my hostel in Brisbane around 10:00 p.m. where I literally went to the bathroom and then passed out. I was disappointed that mother nature had ruined my near perfect plan to get back on the Tongarra, but I was extremely grateful that I had been able to sail the Whitsunday Islands at all. For many travelers, this was there one and only opportunity to embark on the sailing trip and now they had no choice but to carry on without ever witnessing the grander and beauty of the islands. I had been fortunate enough seen this splendor for which I felt blessed. Thus, I couldn't hold a grudge against mother nature. She was still cool in my book. Now I had my sights set on Sydney. I was ready to be back in familiar territory and to see all my friends again before I returned home. This east coast expedition had been a fabulous and surreal adventure, but my second home was calling. It was time to go home.