It isn't raining men. It never was raining men. And I thank the Lord for that because I imagine going out in a manstorm would be rather perilous. Imagine being hit by a man landing on you from a great height. In the song the men came from The Heavens and everyone knows that The Heavens are up a great height so I think you might die if a man fell on you from that far. Certainly the man would die. No, really it doesn't bear thinking about and I am very glad it is just a silly song and not a freak of nature that occurs occasionally. That really would be climate change gone mad.
Straddie Main Beach in wild weather.
I started with that line for a couple of reasons. Firstly, it's about rain (kind of. Perhaps "take me dancing naked in the rain. Cover me in ecstacy" would be a better choice but that's far too provocative for a family-friendly blog such as this) and we have had some wild weather lately that included lots of rain. Secondly, after last week's tribute to Jennifer Rush I decided it would be nice to start as many blogs as possible with either a song or a quote.
So, what was so wild about the weather? I imagine that I hear you ask. Well basically it was a non-tropical cyclone with lots of wind, lots of rain and huge waves. And what better place to go during such an event, than a beautiful tropical island in Moreton Bay. Yes, that's right, we all decided to go to Straddie (North Stradbroke Island) and an interesting experience it was too.
We drove down to the ferry on Friday night in absolutely bucketing rain. We caught the ferry over in absolutely bucketing rain and a fair bit of wind. We drove to the house in the rain. We woke up the next morning. It was raining. And a bit windy too. And then, the rain stopped. It was as dark as an English winter's day but it wasn't raining and so we decided to go for a swim. As you do. "We're on holiday and I don't care what the weather is like, I'm damn well going for a swim!"
The boys decided to surf. The girls watched them from the hilltop overlooking the beach and got a little bit freaked out when they realised that those little things that resembled pin heads floating in a bowl of tumultuous washing up water, framed by waves the size of a frying pan (we're sticking with the washing up bowl here although I concede that it's not a very good metaphor) were actually their friends, boyfriends and husbands. They jumped off the rocks and within seconds were pushed a kilometre up the beach and back to the shore. The girls heaved a sigh of relief. The boys ran back to the rocks and jumped off them again. The girls freaked out again. The boys were pushed up the beach and back to shore. The girls heaved a sigh of relief and ran down to the beach for a swim. Well, more like a frolic really. Swim here and you'll end up on Fraser Island (which, for those that don't know, is a long, long way north of Straddie) before you know it. No, definitely not a good idea to take your feet of the bottom.
By the time the girls got to the beach the boys had disappeared. Then Mindi and I, saw our respective partners right at the top end of the beach heading towards rocks with huge waves bounding towards them. We decided to run down the beach and over the headland to see where they ended up but the sweep was so strong we couldn't keep up. They ended up two beaches away and by the time we got there they'd run back down to jump in off the rocks again.
No one caught any waves that day and later in the paper we read that a wave buoy measured a 17m wave. That's bigger than a telegraph pole! And I can believe it. I saw the surf lifesaver's boat go over a wave the size of a house.
Later that day we walked around the gorge in 60 knot winds (that's what they felt like anyway). The broken off branches and uprooted trees freaked me out a little and I started to wonder if this was one of the least clever things I'd done. The gorge itself was like a wild pot of double cream. Mark and Toby couldn't help themselves and they jumped in, wishing that they were accompanied by babes in bikinis. Every now and then a huge wave would come hurtling up the gorge and completely swamp them both in foam. The waves splashed up the sides of the gorge making it look like it had been whitewashed. The coolest thing was the fluff that was blown off the top and then floated up and away like snow falling backwards. The wind was so intense we found bits of snow-foam in amongst the foliage right around the other side of the headland as we ran back to the car.
We had a fun party that night with lots of food and for those of you that bother to check the photos out I feel I must point out that I started the whole Pumpkin Head thing. Some of you won't find that too hard to believe. There is even a photograph of me actually balancing the Pumpkin on my Head. No, really there is. I just don't have a copy of it. But I'll get one and I'll prove it to you.
The next morning we awoke to a flood in the hallway and no power. Then we remembered the fun we'd had the night before, throwing roti breads at the ceiling fan like frisbees and watching it getting sliced into pieces that ricocheted off in all directions. My, cleaning up was fun!
The photos are in the usual place, but in case you need a reminder go to http://snapper.cvsdude.com/gallery/linsb/v/StradbrokeIsland_MadWeather/
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