New Year’s Eve
December 31st 2010
LP rolled his head towards the window and opened his eyes to sunlight breaking through storm clouds over the horizon. He could hear ocean waves as they broke on shore, pushing up, washing away vehicle tracks made at low tide, returning Teewah Beach to its pristine beauty.
Flood waters gushed out through the Noosa River mouth to the south of Teewah township. The water on the shoreline turned brown with ocean foam rolling along a normally pleasant outlook. Storm water spreading out along the foreshore and strong south easterlies would prevent any early morning fishermen or swimmers coming down for a morning dip or fish on Teewah's normally white sandy beach.
Ingrid moaned. “What time is it? I want to sleep in. Pull the curtains closed.” LP rolled over, placing both feet on the cool polished floor boards. He closed the curtains and went out into the open plan living area, quietly closing the door behind him.
He clicked on the TV, flicking through the channels until he saw flood waters flowing down Queensland's Fitzroy River. The ABC twenty-four hour news was reporting on flooding throughout Central Queensland, west to Theodore and St George and back to the coast, an area the size of Texas.
The Fitzroy River flowed through the heart of the major regional city of Rockhampton. Two large bridges looked like they were holding the city together as residents braced themselves for the full onslaught of flooding upstream.
Their airport was already under water and within days all roads leading to town would be closed. Rocky would become isolated, with only volunteer State Emergency Services and police personnel continuing to evacuate locals to higher ground as the river peaked. Those men and women also had to battle rising waters and avoid deadly snakes and crocs that had been flushed out of their favourite patches of land and water holes.
He sympathised with those affected up north, and to some extent flooding was also increasing in Queensland's capital of Brisbane. LP and Kato’s places were high and dry and flooding would not affect them, although a rising Noosa River might shut down Tewantin's two barges, which were their only way back south across the river.
LP had seen enough bad news for now and switched the TV off. He headed over to Kato's place overlooking Teewah Beach. Brownie was due to be staying there tonight for New Year’s Eve, if he could get through. Bear's old place was just around the corner as well, but no one was staying there this year. It had no plumbing while the bathroom was being renovated.
LP strolled up the sandy track to Kato's front yard, which was covered by bush and shrubs, creating a private courtyard.
"G’day mate. Getting the rods ready for fishing on the other side?" LP asked Kato.
"Yep, with a bit of luck there should be a small wave to ride as well."
"Have you seen the news about up north and Briso?" LP asked.
"No, what's happening?" Kato said.
"Well, your mate in Kiwi land was right," LP said.
“What, you mean Ken Ring, the long range weather forecaster? I'd given up on him." said Kato.
"Don't be too hasty. His forecasts were based on the moon going through its thirty-six year cycle. That means the weather is repeating the pattern of the early seventies." said LP."
“Yeah, you’re right, it sure feels like that. All we need is a couple of cyclones to come down the coast and cross between Gladstone and Fraser Island and déjà vu 1974."
LP left Kato contemplating the possibility of worse weather to come and walked back around to his place, where he found Ingrid making an omelette for breakfast. Her recipe, prized and passed down through family generations, was made from a hand full chopped bacon and shallots, four eggs, one cup of milk, plus a pinch of salt and pepper. By adding a teaspoon of flour made the mixture fluffy, just like her Nanas. Add to a hot saucepan and heat for a few minutes then fold and turn once.
Sitting down on their verandah, he poured himself a large glass of orange juice and looked out at the dark storm clouds bucketing down torrential rain just offshore.
LP called out to Ingrid "Better hurry up with breaky, or we're not going to get up to Double Island before this rain comes."
She replied sarcastically "If you want it any quicker, come in and help, or make it yourself."
LP was only trying to point out that they need to leave soon. Not only because of the weather but to beat a rising tide, otherwise it would be hard going driving on soft sand. The last hundred meters before going over the blow would be blocked by waves pushing up against the high sand dunes.
If that happened, they'll have to wait there for the tide to turn, which could take up to three hours.
LP went inside and opened up his laptop to check his emails, the latest being from 350.org. It reported having an insight on Queensland's floods, claiming that climate change had caused the deluge.
Up until that time, LP had thought Bill McKibben's theories on climate change, based on the amount of carbon in the atmosphere, had some foundation.
McKibben believed that if carbon climbed above 350 parts per million, the planet we know would become unrecognisable. His assumption assumed that carbon will continue to rise above 350ppm. Then we would all have a problem to solve. Current carbon pollution measures at nearly 400ppm and continues to climb higher.
However, LP was now questioning the validity of McKibben’s theory. Natural disasters throughout the world were being linked with climate change without any independent scientific evidence to validate their data.
If they bothered to check flood records on the Brisbane River for the past one hundred and eighty years, they would have seen that nine major floods had occurred in that time.
On average then, severe flooding could be expected in the Brisbane catchment area, once in every twenty years.
LP wouldn't call it climate change, but a climate pattern already understood by Australian scientists.
Australia’s climate cycle is said to go through a one hundred year more dry than wet and wetter than dry centuries. This fact has been proven correct by core samples from the Great Barrier Reef.
If McKibben's bloggers wanted to blame flooding in Queensland on climate change, then they might as well blame the Government for the downpour.
Since 2007, the government had paid a consultant $7.6 million to facilitate cloud seeding over Brisbane's two main dams, Wivenhoe and Somerset. After cloud seeding started, the heavens opened up and seasonal rain returned. By the end of 2010, all South East Queensland dams were overflowing.
The question could be asked, did the Queensland Government cause Brisbane's biggest flooding since 1974?
Closing his laptop, they ate breakfast, then LP and Ingrid wasted little time in organising food and cold drinks for lunch. They packed them into LP's big blue cooler box with a bag of ice.
LP drove down a sandy track and out on to the beach. Thirty-five minutes later they could see the blow ahead, as waves washed against the sand dunes. “You’re too late. You won't make it through, those waves are coming in.” Ingrid said in a cautious tone "You’re not gunna make it.”
LP planted his foot hard on the accelerator, changing from first to second gear in four wheel drive. He ran the gauntlet and won with seconds to spare. Turning hard left, he continued up and over the sand dunes. Ingrid gripped the dash board, bouncing up and down as LP's four wheel drive hit ruts in the sand tracks.
Double Island was a mystery destination. Visitors thought they were going to stop at two islands. The name came from when Captain James Cook navigated and mapped the east coast of Australia in 1770. He named Brownie's ancient ancestors, Glasshouse Mountains, and mistakenly named a headland further north, Double Island Point.
LP slowed as they drove through a passage of rain forest. Sunlight filtered through the greenery overhead and they could see sparkling blue water ahead. Suddenly the rainforest opened out to their Shangri-la.
Double Island’s north side was protected from the forty knot south-easterlies and for some reason the ocean was calm and a pristine blue compared to the other side. With no rain clouds overhead, it was a welcome change to all the bad weather that surrounded them.
LP stopped his four wheel drive in front of a large lagoon. He looked up along the shoreline of high coloured sand cliffs leading to Rainbow Beach.
Memories flashed back of forty years past, of Gordon Elmer with his orange painted ex-army vehicle, loaded up with LP and his mates, as well as food, drinks and surf boards, and travelled ten clicks along the coloured sands stretch of beach to Double Island. They would spend their weekend there until he returned for them on Sunday afternoon. Back then, you rarely saw anyone else. Now, you almost had to reserve a spot on the beach to park.
If you ignored all the other vehicles, fishery inspectors, national park rangers checking camping permits, and police patrolling the beach as if it was a highway, Double Island was as pristine now as back in the early seventies.
LP found a sense of tranquillity and freedom here, even with the unwanted crowds. It was still better than the city life.
LP spotted Kato, and parked close enough for them to rope a tarp across both four wheel drives for shade, or if it rained.
Once they were unpacked, Kato looked at LP, saying "Here comes Brownie. He'd be late for his own funeral."
Brownie parked his Toyota Landcruiser nearby. It had a canopy cover for camping and was all decked out to survive three or four weeks on the beach or the outback.
"How come ya arriving just now? We expected you days ago" Kato said.
"Bloody tourists and flood waters, felt like tellin' 'em to swim back to where they came from. They expected to see the dry arid outback and do some hunting. They're lucky they weren't the hunted. Between the crocs and snakes, we just made it out of there in one piece.”
“I got ‘em back to Rocky and dropped ‘em off at the Fitzroy Hotel for a counter lunch so I could go into the city to get a replacement radiator hose that was hissing steam and losing water.”
“By the time I headed back for 'em, the police had closed the road and I couldn’t get back in. So here I am. I got out just in time, before the whole town was cut off by road, rail, air and sea. I'll go back for 'em when the road opens again. That won't be for another two weeks.”
“Anyway, where's the surf? It reminds me of when Nat Young and his surfing buddies were here. They said the place had the smallest wave they had ever seen, that had the potential to be the longest wave ever ridden.”
“Yeah just as well it was small that day, or by now it would be packed with surfers like Noosa National Park on a big swell.” Kato said.
LP butted in "You won't be surfing here today. The only action you’ll have is if I take you out on my jet ski. Come on Brownie, jump on, I'll take you around the front of Double Island. Put that vest on and hang on."
LP pushed his jet ski from the shallow water and climbed on, with Brownie following. One quick squeeze on the throttle trigger gave a burst of power that sent Brownie lurching backwards, gripping tightly to the back of LP's vest.
Thirty seconds later they reached the point where swells would roll in, producing perfect waves that could be ridden for up to two kilometres. Out here, dolphins imitated surfers with skilful manoeuvres, jumping forward down a wave face and doing a bottom turn just like seasoned surfers.
They continued out to the next point, Flat Rock. Forty years ago that point break was not surfed and was only the haunt of fishermen. Over the years sand had built up, making a pretty impressive barrelling break. The only problem was, you had to jump in off an outcrop of rock, called Flat Rock, into rolling swells. Once in the water, you looked straight up at a sheer cliff face as the waves washed up onto large rock boulders.
The trick to riding those waves was not to get caught in white water that could push surfers up onto the rocks. If that happened, you could expect your surf board to be damaged and to get cuts and abrasions trying to retrieve it. Climbing the cliff face was a challenge, even for an experienced rock climber. You didn't want to find yourself in a position like that. When Flat Rock was pumping, the best option for coming in was to paddle back around the headland.
That was the only safe way to go, allowing the inshore rip to push you along. Eventually you would reach a sandy cove and could leave the water, looking like you knew what you were doing.
Suddenly, a noise overhead broke through Double Island Point’s tranquillity. They looked up as rotor blades blasted a path around the jagged headland. Someone in the helicopter was indicating ‘head to shore’. LP acknowledged their instruction, waving back with his left hand. They couldn’t tell if it was fisheries, national parks or police, but followed the helicopter as it landed.
Sand pushed up and away, swirling like a sand storm, as the big red and white helicopter manoeuvred in to land.
LP slowed to six knots as he beached his ski. Brownie jumped off first and started walking towards an expected confrontation with whichever government agency they were.
LP was still pulling his jet ski further onto dry sand, with his back turned. He had a nightmare thought, that it could be Jack Herbertsin.
He glanced over his left shoulder as a familiar voice bellowed out, “G’day ya bastards, bet you didn't expect to see me here."
Brownie shouted over the whirling rotors, "Bear, you sure know how to make your presence felt!"
“Well, I had no choice. The flood waters have cut all the roads from the airport to here. So I just hired a chopper, no drama, didn't want to miss New Year like last year.” Bear replied.
“Huh, Kato's sure gunna be surprised, he reckoned you were too tied up in Sydney to get up here.” Brownie said.
LP opened up the front compartment of the jet ski and grabbed another life jacket. He handed it to Bear and said "Climb on, there's room for three. Let's go.”
Bear signalled thumbs up to his chopper pilot and swirling blades churned up sand as the helicopter turned sharply, disappearing out of sight around the headland.
They headed back down to camp, and with a turning tide LP drove his jet ski as far up the sand as possible. He reversed his forby and put his ski onto a weather-beaten trailer, ready for the run back over the blow, down the beach and back to their house.
Bear helped Kato untie the ropes holding the tarp up, then rolled it up and packed it away for another day. Bear climbed into Kato's forby and all three vehicles drove in convoy back along the beach to their holiday houses.
Bear asked "Was there anything special happening for New Year? No trouble from coppers or bikers I hope!”
“The only thing out of the ordinary was two undercover coppers turning up at a wedding at a neighbour’s house. I was there having a couple of drinks with them.” Kato said.
“How did you know they were coppers?" asked Bear.
Kato said “The next day they were in uniform doing random breath testing, but I wouldn't make much out of it. I think they were just off duty cops looking for a late night party to gate crash”.
“What's LP up to?” Bear asked. “He phoned and said there was one more thing that had to be done with the scroll. He didn't tell me what, just to be here this time. So what do you know?”
Kato's response was hesitant. “LP believes that the scroll is required to be downloaded at midnight New Year’s Eve 2010. The positioning of the three beach houses, each with a laptop, one of which is George's old one, will form a triangle pointing directly to Mt Beerwah in the Glass House Mountains, the home of Brownie’s ancient ancestors from dreamtime.”
“Oh no, not where all that shit happened nine years ago?” Bear asked.
“Yep, and that's not all. He's convinced that the axis of the pyramid that it creates, points directly to a planet one thousand light years away, rotating in the opposite direction to its sun.”
"Is he completely nuts?" Bear asked, shaking his head.
"Look, there no harm in humouring him, all he asked for is that at midnight, George’s old laptop, his and Brownie’s simultaneously download and save The Scroll in pictures. That's no great drama," Kato said.
"Ok, I can't see a problem with that, but it had better be the end of it all. I don't want any more trouble from bikers, police and religious fanatics turning up again. Tell me, what happened about that footage implicating the Commissioner shooting George?" Bear asked.
"We found it, but it was only recently could we copy it. We had to run the footage on Georges' laptop screen and film it with LP's new HD video camera. Now it’s ready to upload to YouTube" said Kato, with a confident grin.
“Hang on, if Herbertsin gets wind of what you’re going to do, he won’t let sleeping dogs lie any longer” Bear said.
Kato, still smiling, responded "Jack Herbertsin ain’t the Commissioner any more. He now heads the counter terrorism agency in the Federal Police. He wouldn’t give us lot a second thought these days, so don't worry about that.”
“Come on Bear, let's knock down a few beers and talk about the old times, and we'll see the New Year in with some fireworks.” said Kato.
“How did you get hold of fireworks? They're illegal.” Bear said.
“Banger Bob” replied Kato, “I bought the last lot two years ago, before he was arrested and thrown in jail. I've still got a couple of mortars left from last New Year's Eve that should be pretty spectacular”.
Bear said “That'll make New Year go off with a big bang, but what I want to do now, is go crabbing”.
Bear was keen to pack in as much holiday time as he could in the twenty-four hours before he had to head back to Sydney. One thing he wanted to do was go fishing and crabbing along the Noosa River. He didn't eat crab meat, but he liked the challenge of catching them and avoiding their vice like grip.
It was late afternoon as they arrived back and a bright orange sun was setting over the horizon, with dark storm clouds moving above.
Bear spotted LP's crab pots stacked against the house and said "Come on we're wasting time, throw those pots in the tinnie, let’s go crabbing.” Pots, rods and bait were placed into LPs boat, and they headed back towards the barge on the Noosa River, where they would launch their crabbing mission.
LP manoeuvred the boat trailer down a small cement ramp next to the Noosa barge and slid his fourteen foot tinny into the murky brown water. Brownie climbed in, while Bear held the boat.
LP parked his four wheel drive away from the boat ramp, locked it up and walked back to climb in to the boat. Bear pushed the tinny away from shore, jumping in while LP motored in reverse.
He accelerated downstream, past a small island surrounded by mangroves and headed towards the river mouth.
Minutes later, LP turned hard to port into a mangrove covered inlet that only a few locals knew about. He yelled "Duck” as he entered what looked like an embankment covered by mangroves.
LP slowed his boat to a punt as it pushed through into a huge lagoon, saying, "This is where we’re fishing, out of the wind and current.”
Anchoring, Bear threw out three crab pots and proceeded to cast out their lines and wait for a feed of fresh fish, whiting or bream that they could cook up on the barbie later.
The stillness was broken by Bear's rod as it twanged and bent sharply. He gave it a quick pull backwards and had his first fish jagged. It was a big one and put up an enormous fight, coming to the surface twice before Bear could pull it up and over the edge of the boat. It was a huge Grunter Bream, around fifty-five centimetres long and probably weighing in at nearly five kilos. Bears’ monster catch would win any fishing contest on the coast. Even so, this was going on their barbie for a feed tonight.
After an hour of fishing, it looked like Bear’s catch would be the only fish for dinner. He stood up with the oar in both hands, and started moving the boat slowly over to their floats, pulling up three empty crab pots.
Bear was not happy and said, “There’s muddies in this river and I’ll find em’. Pull up anchor and head back upstream.” Bear, being not shy to solve a problem, continue on to say, “Head over to those couple of floats near that island. We'll check if they’ll give us a feed of muddies."
No one wanted to remind Bear that there were laws against raiding someone else's crab pots. They knew his answer “How many times have my pots been raided? I'm just returning the favour.”
LP motored slowly alongside the first float as Bear pulled up a line of rope to reveal two captured muddies, one large buck and a small female.
Bear tipped the pot on its side and both crabs dropped out. Bear reached down to grab the green coloured female by its back flap and threw it overboard.
He then moved in on one agitated, snapping male mud crab, which reared up, snapping its two giant claws. Bear moved his hand over and around the claws and grabbed it from behind.
The mud crab liked wrestling but it didn't stand a chance against Bear's quick reflexes. He placed his prize in a blue bucket and then grabbed two VB beers and put them in the crab pot, sinking it in to its original position in the river.
That was his payment as well as a bit of a joke. Whoever owned that pot would think it was southerners. Queenslanders would have used the local brew. XXXX.
Moving along, Brownie pointed his torch at the next float. He quickly pulled up another pot and gave thumbs up: another large buck. He shook the pot and the crab dropped directly into the claws of his first capture.
Brownie said “Drop the pot quick smart, just punt around to the other side of this island.”
“What for?” Bear asked.
“I know some of the locals use the bush area along the mangroves to grow their own weed. We’ll help ourselves to a few leaves.” said Brownie.
As LP pulled up against a small jetty he asked "What’s the name of this island and who lives here?"
“Makepeace is its present name. It used to be called Pig Island. In the past, it was owned by a Miss Makepeace. When she passed away, she left the property to a woman shopkeeper she had befriended. That person sold it to a local artist who used it as his home and studio. He organised and gazetted the name change to Makepeace Island, and then years later sold it to a high profile executive who now allows it to be used for conference and recreation for his airline staff. It's rumoured he paid four million for his private island on the Noosa River.”
As they approached, lights were on and people were standing on the verandah.
Brownie said, “I won't be long. Cut the engine and hand me that torch.” LP and Bear watched him disappear into the darkness and waited quietly, not wanting to bring any attention to their ill-gotten booty.
Brownie walked close to the lit up verandah and noticed a woman side on with bright red hair, pale white skin, and freckles.
He thought, “I know that woman”, turned and walked up several stairs, tapping her on the shoulder and saying “Hello Riverina”.
Startled at first, she turned, then recognised the voice and looked into his face, saying “Brownie, what are you doing here?"
“Ah, a bit of crabbing and fishing. Just stopped to use your toilet.”
“Funny ha ha” she replied.
“So, how you been? Keeping well I hope.”
“Yeah. Good, good, real good.” She said.
"Anyway where's the toilet?” he asked again.
She grabbed his hand and led him down a hallway, opened the door and pushed him in. She followed, closing and locking the door behind her. They were about to repeat their mile high encounter, when they had last met on a flight from Alice Springs. Fireworks were going off early for Brownie at ground level.