who invited larry?

Last week we went on holiday to Far North Queensland, a beautiful region with catch phrases that tote “Beautiful one day, perfect the next” and “Where the rainforest meets the reef”.

The Daintree Rainforest; ancient, thick, dense, green, moist, humid. It harbours odd looking endangered species of plants and wildlife, most of it still unvisited by humans.

The Great Barrier Reef; the only one that can be seen from the moon. Vast, brilliant, vivid, spectacular, fragile.

The two meet where mountains plunge to a ribbon of narrow white sand and lapping, clear, aqua water.

I spent my childhood in this region and have many exotic curious memories. I’ve only been back twice since we left when I was 11. Much has changed, the isolation has given way to tourism, and the rainforest and reef (although still incredible) have suffered. But there’s so much about being there again that ignites long lost sensations, and gives me a feeling of welcome.

This time the welcome was tested, shoved aside by feelings far less comforting.

I’d love to be telling you about how wonderful and idyllic our holiday was, about how calm and relaxing it was, and how rejuvenated I feel. After all, that was the plan…

The 2nd morning we were there Larry roared into town just south of where we were. Who’s Larry? A tropical cyclone, category 5, the strongest in over 90 years I hear. It was stronger than Tracey who decimated Darwin in the 70’s, I’ve also heard claims it was stronger than Katrina. We caught the edge of Larry, thankfully only category 3 winds. As you can imagine his full force wiped out more than I can comprehend.

I remember cyclone season as a child. I remember being feeling awake and wide eyed with curiosity. I even remember being thrilled at being able to lean into the wind with my Dad as one approached the coast. Thinking about it now I wonder when that wide-eyed curiosity faded and when I acquired fear. Like enjoying the taste of broccoli; something you would never even dream of as a child, it builds with age and one day you realise you’ve acquired a taste for it. It becomes an everyday normality.


to be continued...