A Wet Day Of Sunshine

What a day.

We woke to brilliant sunshine. After weeks of rain, it was a bit disorienting. I decided to walk up to a convenience store for a few supplies.

We live right between two of the major north/south streets in New Farm: Brunswick and James. Lots of people were out walking around. Some were off to the shops. Some were headed to see what was happening with the rising waters. Some clearly just needed to get out of the house and into the sunshine. Cars were moving up and down Brunswick.

The convenience store wasn't as stripped as I'd expected. The news reports would have you believing you can't get milk, meat, bread, produce, or (most likely) toilet paper if you didn't buy it last Saturday. The convenience store had everything it usually has (besides the local paper), though it was quite low on bread. I picked up a few bottles of water and other essentials (OK, cookies), though they were sold out of the local paper. I never did find a copy today. I decided I'd wander down to the river and see how things were going.

As I headed downhill on Brunswick, I noticed commotion at the major shopping thoroughfare (sort of the commercial center of New Farm) with Merthyr St.

Turns out the police had Brunswick blocked for 2 blocks, starting at Merthyr. There were roadblocks like that at random places all over New Farm. It was for water covering the road, but not necessarily from the rising river exactly. It seems the storm drains, which normally empty into the river, were backing up all over the streets.

The roads were only blocked to vehicles. Plenty of people were pushing their way through the water to get a look-see at the action. I decided to join them.

Once again, I was wearing my water shoes, which made wading through the water a lot easier. The muddy water was anywhere from ankle- to knee-deep. It was actually cool and refreshing. While the water was muddy, I wasn't muddy when I walked out the other side.

I walked through the New Farm park (and more standing water) to the river. It was over the riverside path and up onto the grass. There were quite a few people wandering down by the river, snapping pictures, and taking in the day.

On my way back (through the same water on Brunswick), I heard the sound of rushing water on a side street. Oh, dear, I'd forgotten that the shopping center/strip mall on the corner of Brunswick and Merthyr has underground parking and the water was rushing down the ramp into the garage. The garage was about half full of water.....and one very sad looking car.

I wandered past the main neighborhood grocery store, Coles, only to find the shelves of perishables empty and employees out front with styrofoam coolers full of fish trying to sell the last of the fish. As I was taking pictures, the lights all went out. The electric company had cut power to that end of New Farm.

I called Jeff, who told me we still had power and he was jones'ing to get out of the house. We agreed to meet at what may be our new favorite neighborhood bar, the Alibi Room, about 2 blocks from our house.

We weren't alone. The restaurants and bars up on that end of New Farm were doing a brisk business, especially if they had food and someone to cook/serve it. We had a beer and then went across the street for a bite to eat (excellent pizza and risotto).

Jeff then announced that he wanted to see the river and the flooding. Since he'd driven to the bar, we were able to drive around and check things out.

While the police are regularly reminding the public that this isn't an audience-participation event, what are you doing to do? Curiosity (not to mention cell phone cameras) have all of us wanting to take a look at what's really going on. This is also historic. The Flood of '74 is the standard against while all flooding has been measured and this flooding looks like it will match, if not surpass, that.

There are bluffs at points around New Farm and they were all crowded with people getting a high-level view of the river coming out of the CBD. We ended up down closer to the river, near the part of the river walk that is serviced by a length of floating walkway.

Sadly, the lengths of the floating walkway where it attaches to the land have been destroyed. The word on the radio is that the city may have to take down the entire walkway to keep it from rising above it posts and careening down the river.

We also stopped on the other side of the neighborhood where we could get down close to the river. There were probably 15-20 people sitting on the banks watching the river -- wider than most of these people had ever seen it -- flowing by at a stunning rate. The river was at high tide and it was rushing past, carrying logs, huge chunks of styrofoam from floating docks, and other debris.

When we returned home, we found our neighbors hanging out in our shared driveway. We spent the rest of the evening out with 8 or 9 neighbors, drinking wine and sharing stories. The odds are that we will not be flooded up here but the next high tide is at 4 am and I'm not sure how well I'll sleep tonight.

The sad truth is that this city I've come to be very fond of is not going to be the same city come Monday morning that it was this past Monday morning.

The riverwalk that I've enjoyed so much has been smashed in places and torn up in others.

The southbank -- with its manmade lagoon, beach, restaurants, performance spaces, and museums -- is overrun with river water and mud.

The downtown/CBD is closed down and being inundated.

The Suncorp Stadium -- where big concerts are held -- is flooded, like a large nasty pool.

Business have been destroyed. Homes are wrecked. Food distribution is severely disrupted.

The ferry system, which makes public transportation just more fun, will be out of service for months. At least half the ferry docks have been destroyed.

Worse, the airwaves are full of the stories of people making heroic efforts to save friends, neighbors, and total strangers from raging floodwaters. They don't always succeed. I just heard one man talking about struggling to save a family from a car caught in the flash flood in Toowoomba. They saved the father and one child. They couldn't save the mother and another child.

43 people are still missing from the flash flood on Monday. There's not a lot of hope that they'll be found alive.

How does a community recover from that? How do you recover from watching a mother and child be swept away, despite your very best and most heroic efforts?

It will take days to get the water out of the buildings, weeks to clear out the mud and debris, months to rebuild the docks, repair the roads, and fix everything that's broken.

Worse, they'll be finding bodies for probably another week or two.

I sit in the driveway, counting my good luck and enjoying the (dry!) company of my neighbors. But we are surrounded by a disaster. That's not hyperbole. It's a disaster and it's not done yet.

It breaks my heart.