Goodbye Cyclone Debbie

It has been six months since we vacated our house for repair works, and one month shy of a year since Cyclone Debbie ripped through and changed our lives. The long drawn out process is not yet complete but our house has become liveable again, with just a few minor issues the insurer has requested the builders redo.

Never tire of the view - perhaps that's why the rebuild took so long?

The entire floor of the house required replacing

Mouldy home - nearly all the plasterboard walls and ceiling were replaced

While Delvy has done a sterling job of accommodating us over this period of time, and the shed has played a marvellous supporting role, we have decided to move back into ‘the big house’; for the time being anyway. It will make a welcome change from camping. The time it will take to complete daily chores will be reduced as we revel in the comforts of a modern home. A flushing toilet that doesn’t need emptying twice a week, hot running water for showering and washing up, permanently connected water and power supply for the washing machine, an oven, and more room to move whilst still keeping cool: it’s the little things that make the difference. We also won’t need to spend time talking to builders and insurance companies, all in between trying to run the household and participate in the workforce. And we won’t be eaten alive by mosquitoes or dive-bombed by fist- sized moths and rhinoceros beetles while choking on the fragrance of burning mosquito repellent coils. However, the downside will be more housework, and no chickens - they went to a good home long ago.

Shed & Delvy - home away from home. Our shed is all fixed and watertight.

Crushed like a pallet from near 300km/h winds at 320 metres a.s.l.

Renovations

Anyway, our lives are returning to some semblance of normality, so it’s time to read a book, organise a holiday, and cook a roast dinner – amongst other things.  I am looking forward to regaining our life and to not have a stream of stoic tradespeople traipsing through the place. Having said that, our overall experience of the event work has been rather good. (yes, that’s what they call it – a natural disaster is called an event. It’s a little different to the event work that I’ve been involved in over the years!) Our insurance broker was very proactive and helpful every step of the way, and the head builder was professional, easy to deal with, and communicated effectively throughout the whole process. The fact that the job went three months over schedule, well, what can I say. I suppose that’s just the building industry - double the time frame and double the money. It was like being on our own Grand Designs segment, complete with an emotional roller coaster. However, more to the point, we are fortunate our house is now finished and that we had (mostly) pleasant people to contend with. Unfortunately, there are others who are not in such an advantageous position, and I sympathise. It is a crap time and one just wishes for things to return to BC: Before Cyclone. All I can say to them is that there will be an end to the frustration and annoyance, eventually, and you will move on. It just takes a bloody long time, so hang in there. To all those people who assisted us throughout our ‘journey’, with dinner invitations, parking for Delvy, hot showers, housesits, visits from old friends and family, the odd text message or phone call to see how we are faring, and an ear to listen, a helping hand or financial aid; I thank you.

Camping at friends

So, as I open our lipstick red front door for the first time in months, I am greeted with the smell of freshly painted new walls and ceiling, and I slide around in socked-feet on our brand new wooden floor and soak up the expansive view (compliments of Debbie) of the valley below from the newly sanded and stained deck. Just lovely.

Bedroom 3

Completely new ensuite bathroom

Brand new marble bench top kitchen - there was nothing wrong with the old one but it had to come out for the floor to be replaced

Lounge & study - it wasn't until they laid the new floor that we realised the timber was originally laid perpendicular to the balcony 

The garden has bounced back to life after a good soaking of rain, with nearly all of my 200 plus post-cyclone plantings thriving. With all the sun and rain the flora has started to get out of control; so much so I’ve had to start pruning again. Who would have thought! From not a single leaf in sight less than 12 months ago, to foliage everywhere. Also, just to keep reminding us who is boss, during this week’s squally weather we returned home to find a fallen tree across the driveway. Most bemusing – we don’t have a lot left to fall. Gary had to revisit the chainsaw for an hour or so, an activity he still wasn’t in a hurry to return to after weeks of chain sawing last March/April.

Carport entrance a couple of days after Debbie

A little tidier now, and no more tradie vehicles

The patio garden copped a battering

Hours of work involved to bring the gardens back to their former glory

Driveway entrance March 2017 - fallen trees already removed to make way for vehicles

February 2018 - can't see the house now!

Tree loppers, Easter Sunday 2017

Milk pine garden seats chainsawed by my brother in July - photo February 2018

Finally, the exhaustive process is just about over and it couldn’t come sooner. It’s an experience I never thought I would have to go through, and frankly, one I could do without. Like finding myself in a court room – it’s just not on my wish list. On a positive note (there always is one) I have learnt a lot about the insurance and building worlds, but it hasn’t convinced me to make a career change. Between us we have been through the whole spectrum of emotions about our broken home, and not forgetting, our boat too. Starting with the sheer terror of the event itself; to shock, then profound sadness; feeling overwhelmed, vulnerable and isolated; to anger and finally detachment. Now hope and a comprehensive feeling of lightness is emerging as we move back into the box seat of life and leave behind all that belonged to Debbie. I just pray none of her cousins visit anytime soon.

Only one solar panel copped damage, but half the roof needed replacing tonnes of flying timber flattened the corrugations

Regrowth 

Cyclone Debbie update

Five months on from Cyclone Debbie and I’ve been wondering if the furniture sculpture in the dining room will become a permanent feature. After many weeks of the scope of work (yes, one learns all the lingo of insurance claims after a natural disaster) going backwards and forwards from the builder to the insurer, an agreement on house repairs has arrived. As for the fate of our battered shed, well that’s another story.

2-3 months to strip out and rebuild

Goodbye flooring

There were suggestions of work commencing on the house this week, so we phoned a friend with a truck and in one afternoon moved all our furniture into the middle of the shed. Now that the race car has gone to a new owner, we have created a cosy nook in one corner with a laptop set up on the workbench, another on a plastic table, and the kettle, microwave, fridge and freezer spread around the perimeter. Lizards, frogs, rats and I dare say snakes are our new found flat mates, but hey the view out the side door is rather lovely and we have power and access to water (great for doing a load of washing). The sleeping arrangements in Delvy, our fully self-contained motorhome parked alongside out of everyone’s way, remain sans reptiles and the bed is as comfortable as ever. Why we ever left her in the first place…

View from the shed's office nook

New camp area

Come afternoon the shed, and Delvy, get a bit warm so I am now ensconced in a camp chair in the roller door entrance catching the breeze. I’m facing the “No Unauthorised Entry” builder’s sign which has been leaning up against the garden wall for the last few days. Perhaps it will eventually make its way outside the driveway entrance – after all, they have 60 to 90 days to get the job done so why hurry? 

Rebuild begins

A new addition to my garden art collection arrived this morning – a gigantic skip bin - but the delivery driver had to wait his turn out on the street as another large truck was unloading roof sheeting. It’s all systems go! I am relaxing into the dulcet tones of hammering, sawing, loud music and general cussing as the demolition guys today began to tear out the whole flooring of our once beautiful home.

Construction zone

For the first time in a few years we are having a true dry season. The weather has been sensational for weeks - dry, sunny with a light south easterly breeze. Unfortunately the grounds and garden are parched and it will be a matter of survival of the fittest due to lowering tank levels. There is now also the threat of bushfires, one breaking out at the bottom of our street last week.

Pineapples at last!

On a more positive note for the town, the swimming lagoon finally reopened last week with much celebration – the heart of Airlie Beach is back – and the regular influx of cruise ship passengers bring a welcome boost. Although there are still many broken buildings and closed businesses, the town is making progress.

Airlie Beach lagoon

And so this is our life over the next few weeks. A housesitting offer for a month next month will be a welcome change from the construction site, so too will a brief holiday to New Zealand and the odd night in a caravan park – if there is ever a vacancy. Accommodation is in high demand as Airlie Beach locals and tourists alike compete with the tradies. However, we are also happy to have a Delvy adventure in between work commitments, so if you have a flat piece of land then you may just find a big white bus parked on it one night.

Outdoor dining area 

Debbie lives on

It’s over two months now since Tropical Cyclone Debbie ploughed through the Whitsundays. The reduced humidity and clear skies give the Dryander Range an outline of such clarity on these bright winter days - it’s so far removed from the oppressiveness and murkiness of the wet, cyclone season.

Dryander Range

A silver lining - spectacular sunrise

The distant forest viewed from our balcony is transforming from brown to a blanket of army green. Peering closely one can see new leaves sprouting from broken tree branches and seedlings emerging from the forest floor: the thinned out forest has begun to fatten up, covering the windborne scars.

While nature does it’s best to make a comeback the damage is still apparent in our man made world.

New beginnings

Broken but not out

I’ve exhausted myself in our garden; replanting, up righting, pruning, weeding. I am overjoyed when a plant continues to thrive; disappointed when it does not. I’m now an expert with the pickaxe, and have become well acquainted with my Thai masseuse. I’m teaching myself how to rebuild dry stone garden beds, learning the art of repairing wire fences to keep the Brush turkeys out, and reassembling the labyrinth of PVC piping to capture all rain and condensation that flows from the roof to our tanks. With a freshly mowed lawn complete with whipper snipped edges, things are starting to look good. On the outside at least. 

Balcony still needs painting and fencing fixed, but front yard looking a lot better

Tank garden

Patio garden

New look pergola

We are becoming accustomed to the industrial internal look of our modern house which was ‘stripped down’ over a month ago as part of ‘make safe’: black mould creeping through plaster board is a health hazard. Silver foiled insulation shimmers through the ceiling joists, and where plaster board has been removed from ceiling and walls, a regular light dusting drifts onto the remaining floorboards, and everywhere else. The master bedroom is completely out of action but we are fortunate to have the spare bedrooms intact. Furniture is piled up in the dining area, and the marital Persian rug covered with a foam mattress is the new TV viewing area. Both bathrooms are still usable (albeit without ceilings) and we have a fully functioning kitchen. For now.

Living area

Master bedroom

While we wait for the building quote to be approved by the insurance assessor (it’s over $100 000), I take the opportunity to declutter and organise things for when we will need to move ourselves into Delvy and all our possessions into the shed for a few months. The building company assures me the rebuild will be completed by Christmas – I forgot to ask which one.

The incessant sound of neighbouring circular saws, hammering, and now only the odd chainsaw, take the serenity away from our rural retreat. Even one of our chickens has gone out in protest of the upheaval - she hasn’t laid in over a month. One day our property will join the chorus and our driveway entrance will also adorn signage displaying the home owner’s builder of choice details and site safety information.

The flow on effect from a natural disaster is often overlooked by those on the outside. How can one know if they are not privy to the disaster? My local pool, library, doctor’s surgery and tennis club are still closed, along with numerous restaurants, tours, accommodation houses and other small businesses that communities either depend on or just simply like having around. The Queensland Transport and Main Roads customer service centre is operating out of a van in front of the Proserpine railway station, major banks have supplied pop up dongas around the district, tenants have been moved on to make way for higher paying building crews, residents move away due to lack of housing and/or work, and tourists struggle to find a bed after taking advantage of the cheap Jetstar and Tiger fares from Brisbane and Sydney.  Not to mention the effect on the natural environment, the reef in particular, and the main reason why most people have chosen to live here. The greatest living organism of World Heritage status has prevailed over nature many times, but it faces it greatest challenge yet in this current political arena.

I feel for the whole community that is still trying to pick up the pieces, deciding whether to rise like a phoenix (or whatever the cyclone equivalent is) or fold and walk away. Unfortunately, some are left with no choice.  At times it takes enormous effort to find motivation to move forward as emotions roller coaster. Yes, I know we are lucky compared to others. Yes, I know it could have been a lot worse. And I know we have each other and at the end of the day that’s all that matters and I am truly thankful for that. And I realise this is an opportunity to reflect and revise life choices and reevaluate future options. However, it would be nice if everything was back to how it was. 

Stunning  Whitsunday sunsets at this time of year

Cyclone Debbie meets Delvy

The butane stove is packed away, the shower items by the gravity fed water tank are transferred to the bathroom and the buckets of water beside the toilet and kitchen sink are emptied into what remains of the garden. Two weeks since the arrival of Tropical Cyclone Debbie and the power is restored. I flick the taps and the light switches on and off with much satisfaction: day to day living is now a little easier.

Two weeks on and the weather couldn’t be more different here in the Whitsundays - blue skies, a gentle south easterly breeze and reduced humidity.  It makes us wonder if we really did sustain storm force winds for 24 hours, with gusts up to 267 km per hour (the highest ever recorded in Queensland), plus 600mls of rain. But one look at the surrounding trees, or lack thereof, you can see a trail of destruction. It looks like a bushfire has torn through, minus the charcoal, as whatever trees are still standing have been completely stripped of leaves. What was once a tropical vine forest is now a smattering of brown sticks, interspersed with far flung man made materials like tin and hard plastic. With its sepia tones the landscape is strangely reminiscent of photos taken after the Battle of the Somme.

Chainsaw battle

Thankfully two of our significant trees remain at our Hill Fort, without falling on the house or Delvy, albeit minus a few limbs: the 70+ year old Mackay Cedar and a Milk Pine provide some contrast amongst the flattened forest. Some of my lovely garden surrounding the house will resurrect, after removing countless branches and up righting still intact plants.

Patio garden before TC Debbie

Patio garden after TC Debbie

Our once private hill top retreat is now completely open to the sky, with full 180 degree views of the squashed sugarcane valley below, and many neighbours whose existence we were unaware. Stargazing in the south east and north east sky is sensational, and was made even more so with no lights to mar the viewing.

Balcony view prior

Balcony view after

Reconnecting the power was no simple task. The riser, where the power connects from the Ergon pole to the shed, fell down when the carport covering Delvy blew away. 

Delvy managed to escape relatively unscathed

A team of people had to remove the carport remains, an electrician installed a replacement riser, and Ergon pulled the fuse to make preparations for when the power was ready to restore.

Ergon man

Damage to our buildings is not substantial compared to others, but there are quite a few jobs. The north facing lounge room ceiling has a striking black mouldy strip from water ingress under the roof. The south east bedroom wall also has water damage, and floorboards are buckling. The patio shade cloth ripped to shreds, the chicken coop wire collapsed, paint was stripped from the southeastern sections of the metal balcony, fences broken, and every single downpipe has ceased to be a downpipe. The pergola has been removed after being squashed into the ground. We now have a helicopter landing pad, which would make a great spot for a landscape painter with easel.

My chill out space before Debbie

...after Debbie

What to do with it now?

For days after the cyclone our ridge line echoed with the drone of chainsaws and generators, and the smell of smoke was choking. Our next door neighbour kindly lent us a 1kW generator so we could cool the fridge in the morning and evening. Our food stayed reasonably fresh, and we ate quite well from all the defrosting frozen food. The BBQ did wear a little thin after a while, but we would eat anything after a big day cleaning up.

After spending many hours on the chainsaw, firstly to get out of the driveway and then to clear around the house, there is still so much more timber to remove. Our insurance covers for $5000 of green waste removal, but that will be gobbled up with the removal of the enormous palms, Poincianas and native trees that have uprooted and fallen on the next door neighbour’s fence, our fences or in our yard. The council is currently doing a green waste collection from the street and I have a token pile at the end of our driveway – one thousandth of what is on our property.

Driveway to house prior...

..and after.

One of many uprooted palms and trees

The recovery is slow as man power is needed to get things tidy. It can seem overwhelming to say the least, but sticking to the old adage, how do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time and it will get done.

The wildlife has been slow to show itself but we finally saw a Proserpine Rock Wallaby last night, looking very healthy. Birds not normally seen up here on the hill have been flitting about, and an enormous flock of raucous white cockatoos are now our dawn alarm clock – I hope that is temporary. Numerous Green frogs huddle under the eaves in silent protest - missing our down pipes probably.

Our road before....

...and after.

The chickens are still laying and my eggplant tree has survived and already has new shoots (damn, I was hoping for a change in the veggie patch!); we both still have our beautiful home, and employment, and of course each other. Debbie’s wrath has been felt far and wide down through Queensland and northern NSW, and she even said hello to New Zealand. Two weeks on and although much clean-up has been done there’s still a long way to go.