We have been living in North Queensland for a long, long time and have experienced the wrath of the elements, such as cyclones and floods, many times. As a consequence thereof, we have to put up with the loss of electricity, and the inevitable result of food going bad in the refrigerator, plus the discomfort of enduring sweltering conditions without fans or air conditioning.

This immediately sprung to my mind in January 1999 when I walked past the Cairns Electricity Board’s display window and noticed a home generator package on offer for $1120.00. I went inside to obtain more information and details about the unit.

After an informative talk with the salesperson, I left convinced that a generator would be a good investment and said to myself that we should have bought one a long time ago. We always had a backup gaslight and a gas cook top, but thought that electricity from a generator would give us cooling from the fans which are so important in the tropics, as well as tv, lights, but most importantly to keep the refrigerators going.

Like most people, we take too much for granted and never fully appreciate the value of electricity, or for that matter, water, until we haven’t got it.

It is funny that every time in the past, when we lost power with a fridge full of food, we decided to buy a generator. But after the electricity was restored, procrastination took over and eventually the decision to buy a generator was forgotten – until the next blackout, when we sagely remark to each other, "We should have bought a generator."

After coming home and discussing the generator with my wife, Karola, it didn’t take long to make up our minds that we should buy one now, and be prepared in 1999. Exactly one week prior to the arrival of cyclone Rona, an electrician installed a special switch and socket on the switchboard. Before he left, he gave me a demonstration on how to start it, and what to do on the switchboard, but he advised me to read the operation manual from A to Z.

For the first time in a lifetime, we felt that we were ready for any loss of electricity, and were able to relax with one worry less on our minds.

A cyclone was developing some 300 km off the North Queensland coast. We carried out the normal pre-cyclone preparations, such as removing loose objects from the yard, getting shutters ready for the windows and all the other very necessary jobs, but this time there was one extra task to complete and that was to get petrol for the generator. I went to our service station, just 1.4 kilometres up the road, and filled up my 5 litre plastic container. The generator was stored in our workshop on the back of our property, as we were totally convinced that the generator would not be needed for some considerable time. We had total peace of mind, thinking our electricity supply was assured, as we now had a spanking new generator and petrol for it.

According to the weather bureau, the latest cyclone was not expected to reach Cairns until late Friday night or early Saturday morning, the 12th and 13th February 1999 respectively. Although I had read the operating instructions of the generator fleetingly, somehow I felt no need to give it deeper study – there being plenty of time, I told myself. On Thursday the 11th of February 1999, we saw no need to postpone the long planned dinner for the evening with Tim Kerstevens, the helicopter pilot with whom I flew to Brisbane, his wife and two children. The visitors arrived at around 6 p.m. at our place and at 6.30 we enjoyed a sumptuous dinner prepared by Karola. The cyclone was constantly playing on our minds while we ate. We kept the tv on so that we could listen to the, by now, more frequent cyclone reports. The wind was getting progressively stronger, and by 6.45 the eye of the cyclone was still over 80 km away but still coming directly towards us. At 7.15 p.m. we had just finished dinner and cleared the table and were anxiously awaiting the next cyclone report, when suddenly, and totally to our astonishment and completely unexpected at that time, the power went off. Having lived in the North as long as we have, candles, matches, torch and the gaslight are always in easy reach and we had no problem finding them, even in the total darkness. In no time, the gaslight was lit. Suddenly, there was an urgent need on my part, to find and read the operating instructions on how to start the generator, and the in-depth reading was completed in record time. Then, Tim and I, with the help of a flashlamp went to the workshop to retrieve the generator. After a short while, and almost reminiscent of biblical times when the Lord said, "Let there be light," there was light, as well as tv, cool air from the fans, and steadily purring refrigerators and freezers. It felt so good to have power on again and we were happy to have finally bit the bullet and bought a generator.

By 8 p.m. Tim and his family thought it might be better to go home and await cyclone Rona in their own home at Yorkeys Knob. Karola went to bed to read, while I remained glued to the local radio to listen to the constant updates about the cyclone. Around 10 p.m. to my relief, the cyclone changed course, and instead of heading towards us, moved now in the direction of Port Douglas and the coast north of it, and finally hit land there at about 11.30 p.m. I was breathing much easier now. At 1 a.m. I switched the generator off to eliminate noise, and to conserve fuel, satisfied that the fridges would stay cool until the morning, I finally hit the sack.

At 8 a.m. I enjoyed breakfast and listened to the local radio. Widespread flooding was reported. The Tinaroo Dam was overflowing, the Baron River and the Thomatis creek (a contributory to the Baron River) was rising, plus a high tide, this immediately rang a bell, in the light of past experiences, that we could be in for a flood, and a prolonged time without electricity. The generator had consumed three of the five litres of fuel I had by me, so I decided that I ought to get more fuel from our local service station. I emptied the container into the fuel tank, hopped into the car and headed for the petrol station. As soon as I reached the outskirts of Yorkeys Knob, I could see a large number of cars parked beside the road adjacent to the Saltwater Creek, which is a low dip in the road. This was an ominous sign, and I knew straightaway what that meant – flood. I parked the car on a high spot on the side of the road whilst I contemplated the situation for a moment, then took off towards the service station some 700 meters away. I was barefoot, had my wallet in the back pocket, carried an umbrella and an empty 5 litre plastic container. After walking about fifty metres, the water came up to my knees, and the view in front of me was one hell of a large lake. A little bit further on, and the water was over my knees, but the worst aspect of the situation was that the Thomatis Creek was already overflowing and came in a very strong current diagonally across the road from my left and made it extremely difficult for me to walk forward. It was a hard slog. Each foot had to be dragged forward against the strong current, often with the help of one hand. After about fifty metres of struggling against the strong current, I started to get utterly exhausted, and I had to stop for a while every few meters. The service station just didn’t seem to come closer and I was seriously considering turning around to go back to the car. When I looked back in the direction I came from, I murmured to myself, "Oh my God, it is now as far back to the car, as it is to the service station." The water was now up to my groin, I was getting more and more exhausted and I had to make a decision, whether to return to the car or keep going. If I turned around and went back to the car, I would go home without petrol, and that would mean that I would have a brand new generator and no fuel for it, and consequently no electricity – and that would be most annoying, to say the least. "No way," I whispered, gritting my teeth, and decided to soldier on.

Every minute, the going was getting harder and the water was steadily getting deeper. All sorts of floating objects came towards me and the thought of crocodiles entered my mind. Suddenly, I thought my lucky star was shining. From the direction of Yorkeys Knob, a utility was attempting to drive through the ‘lake’ and I thought that I might be lucky enough to get a lift to the service station so a sense of relief crept through me. As the vehicle came closer I called to the driver, "Would you give me a lift to the service station?" "Yes" he agreed, "but you have to hop on while I’m moving as I daren’t stop." When he drew abreast of me, I attempted to hop on but did not have the strength to get on top of the ute, and the big wave he was making knocked me over and I fell into the water and was totally drenched including my wallet. So that was that. That was the end of my lift. I watched him depart with a sodden sinking feeling.

I resumed wading.

Painfully and slowly the service station was getting closer and I could see people looking in my direction and wondering who on earth is having a "hike in the lake". Eventually I made it to the service station, the lessee came toward me stretched out his hand and helped me to get through the, by now, waist deep water on the entrance of his driveway. I had no time to waste as I could see the water was rising rapidly. I had to urge Terry, the lessee of the service station, who immediately instituted a leisurely conversation with me, to hurry up and fill my 5-litre container with petrol, as well as the new 10-litre container, which I purchased from him. I left my wallet and umbrella at the service station and hurriedly departed with my two containers and a total of 15 litres of fuel. By now, the water on the road was well above my navel, and all the reflector posts beside the road had disappeared so I could only guess where the road was.

Trying to keep the containers out of the deep water was a major effort and my arms soon became tired and sore. Then, I realised, that by holding the containers lightly in the water, they would float to some extent, and that made the long track back to the car a bit easier. The diagonally flowing current which came from Thomatis Creek had become much stronger, but since I walked toward Yorkeys Knob, the currant hit my right side slightly from behind and helped me a little, but tended to push me sideways and possibly off the road.

After more than one and a half hours I was finally back at the car, utterly exhausted and soaking wet. More cars and people had in the meantime assembled at the edge of the ‘lake’, watching the silly bugger who was staggering through the water - carrying two red containers. Then, ignoring their amusement, I stripped to my underpants, took the wet clothes off and wrung them out. I hopped in the car and drove thoughtfully home. Happily, I had made it back, but most importantly having a good supply of petrol. Karola was not worried about my long absence, she thought that I’d had a wonderful time talking to people, which is not something unusual with me. The opportunity to run into locals you haven’t seen for a long time usually presents itself only when there is a flood. However, when I alighted from the car in my underpants with a bundle of wet clothing in my arms, she soon realised that there was more to my long absence than merely talking to the locals.

When, later, I related the story to a policeman who lives at Yorkey’s, I said to him, "Just as well you were not there when I stripped, as you would have most likely arrested me for indecent exposure!"

The moral of this story is: never think that you are prepared for any contingency and get lulled into a false sense of security for, in all likelihood you are not, because somewhere along the way you have forgotten something. But one thing is for sure, I’ll always have plenty of fuel on hand for the generator.

This postscript is for the year 2000 and cyclone Steve on 27 February proves my point. Every five hours, when the petrol tank needed filling up, I stopped the generator and, before re-starting it, checked the oil. After more than two days of nearly continual running, the oil level was down a bit, but was still well above the low mark. I went to our local petrol station to get some oil, but was told that they did not have the oil described in the operating manual, and because of a flooded road I could not get to Cairns. (Only 150 mm in front of the Service Station at that time but rising fast) At ten o’clock on the third night my generator stopped with the petrol tank still half full. I rang my son, who had his main electricity restored a few hours earlier, and he helped me to get his generator up to our place to ‘reintroduce’ electricity. My son informed me that generators have a safety switch and stop the motor when the oil level gets low – but nothing of this was mentioned in the operating manual. However, after we had lights again, my son pointed to a little label on the back of the petrol tank.

It said:

- Werner Schmidlin  
Yorkeys Knob, Queensland, Australia