FLOODED in by ALFRED

Red Cedar in the Rain in the Bunya Mountains…..

I think of mum every time I pull on my three quarter dry-as-a-bone coat. It’s an automatic ritual to think of her whenever I feel snug under the oilwaxed cotton garment. Mum gifted the coat to me years ago. After 28 years of living in the country it suddenly dawned on me as I walked in the wide-open evergreen landscape surrounding me, that I am a country woman.

Perhaps it was the comforting feeling of being at home as I crossed above the flooded paddock with a calm confidence? Perhaps it was the depth of familiarity & love I felt for each tree standing on the property as well as each tree laid down by the cyclonic winds that had blown in from the sea? Or perhaps it was just the feeling of wearing a trusty garment made specifically for country people passed on to me by my city-dwelling mother who recognized that my life was going to need a coat like this, more than hers.

Tailed by our three, wet dogs, I walked on. Creek’s humming a far more settling sound than yesterday morning after the torrential rain had fallen through the night. Lined mostly with camphor’s and Hoop pines, the flooded creek had relaxed its fast paced efforts to get to the ocean. On the nights when the water is racing, the sound of the creek roars up the hillside to awake me from my sleep into an alert, slightly disturbed state. Like it did last night. I reckon it’s wise to wake up and pay respects to Water when it’s almighty power is extra present.

Our steep bitumen driveway joins a dirt road at the bottom that turns either right to transverse the land, or straight ahead where it crosses a small, concrete bridge over the creek. On dry days one crosses it in order to exit the 300 acres onto the main road out of the valley. If the creek swells to overflowing in heavy rain however, the causeway disappears under a gush of rapids.

Sometimes the enormous build-up of debris pressed against the causeway on the upstream side, creates a cascading effect of water spilling all through it and over it. ‘Is the causeway flooded?’ This is one of the most common questions heard throughout the Northern Rivers where properties are dotted alongside creeks and rivers winding their watery way down through valleys into swamps and marshlands, joining the main rivers and running out to the Coral Sea. A simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to that question would be an indicator if country folks (who dwelled in valleys) were flooded in, or not.

Causeways are also numbered as an unofficial name for them. The first, second, third, fourth, so on & so forth. They can reach on into high numbers like fourteen as was the case when I lived in the Kalang Valley & had to cross the creek 14 times via road to get home! So which causeway on a country valley road is flooded, is another indicator of the seriousness of the situation.

The word ‘trapped’ is rarely used because (although true), trapped is far too alarming a word to use when flooded in. When evacuation orders ARE sent out via government Apps, by then the causeways are too flooded anyway to cross! Oddly an App meant to be helpful, can actually add to the stress. When told to evacuate, but you can’t, you suddenly CAN feel trapped rather than flooded in.

The young dog leapt back suddenly and advanced just as quickly to annoy whatever it was she had discovered hiding in the long grass. ‘It can’t be a snake,’ I thought, ‘too wet!’ I went over to investigate. She had found a rainforest Cray in the long grass. A gust of exhilaration blew through my tummy and heart.

I did up the top bottom of my coat and pulled my hat down further on my head as a fresh new drizzle of rain began to fall, and squatted to have a better look at the rare creature. The brave little crustacean threw his blue and olive green claws (with bright red trimmings) high in the air to warn us all off. By this time the other two old dogs had bounded in to investigate too.

I stood up feeling for the ordeal he must have been through and joined forces with Cray to warn us all off. ‘Come on dogs, leave him, let’s go!’ As I joined back on the dirt road I noted that Cray had crawled quite a way through the grass away from the flood waters.

I walked further along the clay road that ran parallel to another branch of the creek that ran into the main creek known originally by First People as ‘Bemble’: meaning a rocky creek. An island of trees in the middle of the side creek had been uprooted from the two forces of the wind and water together. The uprooted mass of roots and soil connected to several fallen trees, measured roughly the height of our house.

‘Perhaps Cray has been uprooted from his hidey hole on that island home?’ The forces of worry and trust in Nature’s way, swirled together within me. I walked on observing the land. It’s quite mesmerizing watching a full creek flowing with water. How water behaves is full of intelligence.

The flow of the land that spreads beyond the creek takes on a new shape when flood water crosses it. The high points to the low, are highlighted to the keen observer by the way the water naturally flows. Even the tall grass whom bows down in total surrender to the force of water, teaches the observer.

Back up home on the hill now listening to Willy wagtail calling right outside my bedroom window. His is a happy trill. Today he is in a good mood. The bad weather has passed as Willy’s not sparking off the gravely warning call he can carry on with when reminding all who challenge him that he’s the king of these parts.

I smiled at the thought of Willy “chitty chittering” in annoyance with Cyclone Alfred for inconveniencing him! And now I can hear the shy Brown pigeons with their echoing “wooop wooop” calling in the forest alongside the flooded creek below. These are first bird calls I’ve heard in three days!

Fourth day with no power. When the floods are up, normally the power goes down. Mostly the power poles either get dislodged by water, winds bring them down, or trees fall on the lines. We’ve got our genny running. It’s a tractor of a thing powering fridge, freezer, charging phones and keeping us in touch with the outside world via Wi-Fi for three to four hours every day.

We’ve heard word via socials that one of my all time favourite gums just off Crabbes Creek Road has been totally uprooted. Ironically it’s an enormous Flooded eucalypt…. Power lines are all snapped in half on both sides of the street right near it. The lines are just lying there on the ground alongside the road apparently.

I’m loving the opportunity to write. Such a soothing hobby. I’m picturing heating up rain-water from the tap in a big saucepan on our gas stove, popping a plug into the basin and filling it with warm water in a minute. Think I’ll perch over it like a bird and have a wash just like mum taught me as a kid in a black out, and tomorrow I’ll go sit with that old Flooded gum.