East Coast Expedition: Cyclone Anthony At Airlie

Jan 30, 2011

This morning I woke depressed that my E-team had left me, but optimistic that the weather would cooperate and I would get the green light to sail aboard the Tongarra again. After a morning run along the bicentennial walkway and a dip in the lagoon, I paid Andy a visit at ABC Travel. When I walked in he smiled, and then gave me a look that said, "You aren't going to like the words that are about to come out of my mouth." I gulped. "What's the word?" I asked less optimistic. Andy signaled for me to come around the desk and look at his computer screen, which showed the hour by hour path of the storm predicted to hit land today. The cyclone's name was Anthony, and there was no doubt that this category 2 cyclone was going to strike Airlie Beach. And a category 5 cyclone was suppose to strike on Thursday, four days from now. "All the boats are shut up right now," Andy said. "In the morning they will go out and look at the damage. If the boats are okay then they are planning on going out as scheduled tomorrow." So there was still a chance, but based on the red swirls and twirls I saw on the computer screen the odds didn't seem too good. All I could do was wait...some more. The anticipation was killing me. I just wanted a yes/no answer already! The answer I had to settle for was: maybe yes, maybe no.

Cyclone Anthony

That evening I met up with Patrick and some Irish gals who were on the Fraser Island trip with us. We met at the hostel bar Beaches for dinner and to watch the Australian Open men's final which was happening in real time in Melbourne. When we sat down there was heavy rain outside, a sure sign that Anthony was approaching. Gradually, the wind and rain picked up more and more. That's when we lost power. Goodbye tennis. Goodbye lights. Hello darkness. The bar was packed with patrons, and not a single soul retreated. Where else would we go? What else was there to do? The answer was nothing, nothing but to continue drinking our drinks, eating our food, and carrying on chatting. And that's precisely what we did. Before I knew it, the powerful wind was madly blowing the dense rain horizontally. The palm trees were bent in half, gripping the ground tightly with their roots to avoid being ripped out of the earth. It was intense. Suddenly it occurred to me that I was in the middle of a hurricane. Anthony had arrived, and he was fierce and frightening. Someone needs to sign that cyclone up for anger management classes. But the travelers surrounding me loved it. The wilder Anthony got, the louder they cheered. Hurricanes, apparently, were an occurrence worthy of a celebration. And celebrate they did.

Minutes later, the bar announced that it was closing (it was only 8:00 pm). We were instructed to leave immediately and retreat to the safety of our hostel rooms. As everyone felt their way blindly out of the bar, the staff frantically tried to secure the bar, boarding up its windows and doors. Patrick and the Irish girls were staying at a hostel down the road. They invited me to join them there for more Cyclone Anthony festivities, but I declined. Beaches Bar was attached to the hostel I was staying at, and I figured it was wisest to stay put rather than chance venturing out into the wrath of Anthony. So I made my way back to my room. My floor hallway was overrun with loud, jovial backpackers. It seemed that the bar patrons had regrouped in my hallway now making it the bar. I wasn't interested in frolicking in the dark with strangers whose faces I couldn't even see, so I hurried into my room where I hoped I would find some solace. No such luck. Instead, I opened the door to find one of my Irish roommates hysterically crying while her travel companions tried to console her. She was deathly afraid of Anthony. "I want to go home," she wailed. "I wish I was home." Nothing and no one could comfort her, and so her friends abandoned her to join the hallway jamboree. Thus I was the lucky soul who got to endure her melt down as she sat on her bunk clutching her teddy bear and rocking back and forth sobbing. I'm not even sure if she knew I was there, but I thought it best to let her be. With time her sobbing ceased, until I lay in my bunk in total silence and darkness. It wasn't even 9:00 yes, but  I snuggled under my covers. "When in dark," I decided, "go to sleep." While Anthony waged war outside, I slept peacefully inside.