Striking a balance. No panic. Rather, just making sensible preparations for the arrival of Severe Tropical Cyclone Yasi. The hundred kilometre wide eye expected to make landfall along the Queensland coast within the next 48 hours. Off to stock up on tinned food, bottled water, fuel for stove, cash. And a small birthday cake.
Birthday looming. Some celebrate with jelly and ice cream. Looks like I’m going to share mine with Tropical Cyclone Yasi. Described by Australia’s Bureau of Meteorology as a “Goliath“. Deep joy. Look carefully at the map of the system’s expected track and you’ll notice some small numbers. Indicates strength. Increasing as it approaches the coast. Four isn’t good.
Still, feeling pretty stoic about it all. For several reasons. Firstly, I’m actually quite excited. So far I’ve found myself arriving after the riots, missing the bomb attacks, escaping the flooding. Looks like I might get some first hand experience. Hoping to capture it on film. See how quickly I can get to share it on the web.
Then there’s the Aussie spirit. Talk of Cyclone parties. Batten down the hatches. Get the washing in. Find a safe refuge. First floor is good to avoid being flooded out. Tape up the windows. Grab a beer. Some friends. Watch things fly past. The odd dustbin. Debris. Livestock can be a bit problematic.
And even if my curiosity doesn’t appeal, nor does the “Dunkirk spirit”, there’s the little issue of where exactly would you go? On a bicycle? Cyclones have a habit of being a bit unpredictable. Suddenly veering off the expected track. Best to sit put.
[Image above Copyright Commonwealth of Australia Bureau of Meteorology. For illustrative rather than predictive purposes]
I’ve nothing but admiration for crocodiles. Evolutionary design classic. Doesn’t claim to be man’s best friend. No aspirations to be fluffy or cuddly. Rather, it simply does what it says on the tin. And does it rather well. A ruthless predator.
Taking off from Ken Roberts on Vimeo.
Great way to go spotting crocodiles? Possibly. I’d be tempted to opt for a helicopter with floats. Just in case it ditches. Like one a few weeks ago..
Great Knots from Ken Roberts on Vimeo.
Remarkably tame birds on Cairns’ seafront. And a bit smaller than fruit bats. Reckon they’re Great Knots – Calidris teruirostris – but others may know better…
On the waterfront from Ken Roberts on Vimeo.
Some scenes from along the waterfront, Cairns, northern Queensland
Awakenings from Ken Roberts on Vimeo.
Dusk. Grounds of Cairns Central Library. In the trees. Fruit bats. Awakening. Gathering in the evening sky.
Kicking myself. Actually I wasn’t. No need. Enough discomfort without resorting to that. I’d made it across two whole continents. Across the blazing Kazakh Steppe. Through the Gobi desert. Liberal use of sunblock. Swapping helmet for wide brimmed floppy hat. Light tan. Nothing more.
But just forty five minutes swimming in an outdoor pool. Mid-morning. Few hours later. Reddened back. Surprised – stunned even – just how quickly you can burn. I’d sensed the damage a few hours later. Nothing serious. But sufficient to make me think. Realising that, for the all sophistication of Cairns, this is the Tropics. Much of the town built on reclaimed mangrove swamps. Dense rainforest enveloping the surrounding hills.
By late afternoon I’d some heavy duty water resistent sunblock. Approved, it said, by the Australian Cancer Council. Dug out my floppy hat. Toying with acquiring a cheap golfing umbrella to shelter from the sun. Something I’d often seen the mainland Chinese do.
A chat with Rowan, the hostel’s manager, yielded some other local hints and tips. Long sleeved shirts. Liberal application of lotion each morning. Making it as much a part of your daily routine as cleaning your teeth. A salient lesson learnt.
Tropical downpour. Intense. But warm. And very humid. Cairns. Northern Queensland. Stood in the middle of a car park. Sheltering beneath a large umbrella. Feeling frustrated. Desperately trying to get a signal on my satellite phone so my local radio station could call me. With little success. Too many buildings around perhaps.
Back in the first world. Should have been straightforward enough. But, alas, pay phones don’t accept incoming calls. And the land line number I’d eventually found hadn’t worked. New Years Day so the internet cafes in town had closed early. And I’d not got WiFi access where I was staying. So, no Skype. Out of options. Tonight at least.
In truth, Anton and Jon at the radio station had spoken to me a little earlier. Reasonably clear line, bit of a time delay but workable. But, as soon as the live interview started, the signal began to fade. I’d tried to ad-lib, second guess things. And then the connection was lost. I didn’t want to even begin to imagine what was happening back in the studio in Somerset. Some frantic filling in.
I’d felt particularly bad about it because, in a way, it was may fault. We’d a well-proven method for pre-recorded interviews, unaffected by the now significant time difference. But I’d run out of time for that in Hong Kong, suggesting instead we did it live. After all, how difficult could it be to find a landline they could call me on? Now you know.
[The author is particularly indebted to presenter Anton and interviewer Jon at 10 Radio for their patience and understanding. Much more appreciative of why radio stations try and avoid live interviews…]