Caught in the Storm: My Queensland Adventure with "Alfred"
After planning my ten weeks in Australia for many months, I did not even consider I needed a contingency plan for a tropical cyclone crossing my path.
And yet I did.
This article illustrates how weather can change even the best-laid plans, and sometimes you have no choice but to accept the circumstances and deal with the results.
I have attempted to use a bit of humour to lighten the seriousness of the situation because simply put, cyclones in Brisbane are not a thing. It is funny because this storm followed me down the coast from Cairns, through Airlie Beach and Mackay, and on to Brisbane, drastically altering two weeks of vacation planning.
When I was in Cairns visiting one friend, I had planned a break to visit Fitzroy Island for some snorkeling on the Great Barrier Reef and cocktails by the pool. But, emerging from a tropical low some one thousand kilometres offshore, the growing waves and sea swells squashed those plans. Boat trips in high sea swells are not something I enjoy. This should have been my first indication that my holiday plans would change, but I just figured, hey, weather happens - tomorrow will be better. Ha! It wasn't.
At this point, I thought, "Oh well", I will enjoy my water-based activities when I move south to Airlie Beach. Snorkeling, sailing, visiting Whitehaven Inlet, and flying over the Great Barrier Reef were on the agenda.
Four days later, when I arrived in Airlie Beach, this lovely tropical low was officially named Tropical Cyclone Alfred. It was now adjacent to Airlie Beach and eight hundred kilometres from the coast. Needless to say, my stay in Airlie did not go as planned either. The sea swells, waves, wind, and rain caused numerous excursion cancellations. And to be honest, the ones that did go would have been so rough they would not have been enjoyable. The clue is when the crew passes out seasick medication as you board.
After my disrupted stay in Airlie, I flew to Brisbane, hoping for a better experience in terms of activities. This was the part of my ten-week trip I was looking forward to the most. I would stay with a friend I had not seen for almost forty years.
As I arrived at my friend's house in Brisbane, I felt good about this leg of my trip. The sun was shining, and my friend and I had plenty of activities planned for my two-week stay. Many of them were also on my activity list.
Little did I know, my vacation was about to be interrupted again by this storm named Alfred.
As my friend and I got caught up over a nice bottle of wine, it became clear that Tropical Cyclone Alfred had followed me again. As it swirled in the ocean, it grew into a Category Four cyclone, creeping ever closer to the Queensland coast.
So, what makes this tropical cyclone different from other cyclones?
As it moved southward, Alfred decided it was tired of the watery ocean and was looking for a new backdrop. And, in a move that could only be described as a dramatic flair, Alfred veered west and set its sights directly on the coast, a path that no one could have predicted.
But, unlike Northern Queensland, people in Brisbane, southern Queensland, and northern New South Wales aren't used to tropical cyclones. In fact, it's been decades since a storm of this magnitude came so close, making it a truly unique and rare experience for the locals.
In the days before expected landfall, it was clear that Alfred wasn't planning on being a "quick visit." This storm was preparing for the long haul. The forecasts were all doom and gloom, citing severe winds, record-breaking waves, prolonged heavy rain, and flash flooding.
As I stood on my friend's balcony, watching the winds pick up and the trees struggle with their wild, windswept look, I felt things were about to get... interesting.
If you've never been caught in such a precarious weather predicament, trust me, it's a whole new level of unnerving. You're basically sitting there, knowing something big is coming your way, and there's not much you can do about it. And to make matters worse, this is supposed to be your vacation.
So, now that we know this storm is coming, we got to work preparing for it. Here are some of the tasks that needed to be done:
Stockpile food, water, and toilet paper. (Yes, toilet paper. I'm not sure why people thought they needed so much.)
Fill bathtubs with water (to flush toilets or wash, if electricity goes out).
Tie down or bring inside anything that could become a flying missile.
Bring in any potted plants
Clean up any debris (garbage, dead branches, etc.)
Sandbagging.
I spent two full days helping my friend and her family make the preparations. With two rental properties and elderly parents living in a flood zone, there was plenty to do.
For days, the anticipation was palpable. The wind intensified, trees swayed, and small debris—leaves and twigs—whipped past, even on the fourth floor of the building. Meanwhile, bands of heavy rain made it feel like the elements were conspiring against anyone who dared venture outside. Umbrellas were impossible to use and it was almost humorous watching those that tried.
Despite the impending doom, we were ready and waiting for landfall, our senses heightened and our preparations complete. The only questions that remained were how bad was this storm going to be, would we lose power and if so, how long would we be in the dark?
The time had come to settle in, pray for the best and accept our fate with Alfred. In the back of our minds, we wanted to know, would it be ferocious or would it fizzle?
Alfred's path was forecasted to hit the Queensland coast just north of Brisbane, but given the storm's unpredictability so far, this only heightened the sense of anxiety
At one point in the wait, it seemed like Alfred might turn around and head back out to sea. It was just a little crazy Ivan moment (shoutout to The Hunt for Red October), where it briefly toyed with the idea of retreating before continuing on its determined path. Spoiler: it didn't retreat.
Once back on track, the fun (NOT) really began. Despite still being hundreds of kilometers from Brisbane, Alfred was making its presence felt. Downgraded to Category 2 cyclone, Alfred was still rocking persistent winds with gusts up to 125 km/h—strong enough to down trees, rip off roofs, and create a symphony of eerie howls as the winds whipped through the city.
For what felt like endless hours, mysterious banging, clanging, and tapping sounds echoed from every direction. The eerie whistle of the changing air pressure in the stairwell howled, resembling the sound of a ghostly presence. The relentless rain hammered against the windows, as if trying to force its way inside. Outside, the storm shutters on the balcony rattled and I couldn't help but wonder if they'd hold up against the furious onslaught. From this balcony, I had a clear view of the new pedestrian bridge spanning the Brisbane River, and I found myself hoping it wouldn’t succumb to the relentless force of the wind gusts.
During the day, my fear of this new experience was manageable. But at night, the sounds of this new terror kept me awake. I not only was afraid of what might or could happen to me but I also felt the anxiety of my friend. Her parents live in an area that has flooded in the past and although they are better prepared this time, the worry is still there.
After many hours of the relentless onslaught, I was eagerly awaiting the storm to pass, but it refused to let up. Alfred stalled, delayed its landfall, and dragged out the tension even longer. Finally, almost 30 hours later than expected, Alfred made its move and came ashore as a Category One cyclone.
But even though the winds had calmed, Alfred still managed to wreak havoc. The media may have been slightly alarmist about its intensity as a cyclone, but the rain on the back side of it, was no joke. Over 1000 mm fell in some areas in just four days! Flash flooding, toppled trees, power outages, and washed-out roads were just a few of the lovely souvenirs Alfred left behind.
The damage was beyond comprehension when Alfred finally departed, leaving behind a trail of destruction after an astounding five days in Southeast Queensland and Northern NSW.
Nearly 700 kilometers of coastline from Bundaberg to Coffs Harbor was dramatically transformed. Coastal gouging from the high surf and storm surge was incredible. What were once vast sandy beaches had transformed into towering cliffs of sand, some soaring as high as seven meters. The beautiful beaches that had once attracted tourists from all over the world were now gone.
Cyclone Alfred didn't just take a portion of coastal land—it claimed it all.
With such destruction to coastal infrastructure and services, what does that mean for the recovery of the affected regions?
Essential services like electricity, transportation and communication returned within a week or so, but physical damage to coastal infrastructure, parks, and beaches, will take longer to fix. Until safe to reopen, lost tourist revenue could be substantial and will affect the local economy.
Some beach areas can be repaired quickly using sand reserves, but there is not enough stored sand to replace the entire coastline with destruction of this magnitude. Some areas may have to wait for natural replenishment, which could take years.
While some residents may disagree, restoring tourism to the Gold Coast beaches is a key focus for recovery. Restaurants, bars, shops, and accommodations can only thrive if the beaches draw tourists as they have for decades. Without the beaches, the local economy will take a hit. Once temporary measures are in place, longer-term solutions for coastal erosion, such as rock walls and jetties, can be considered.
How did I weather the cyclone?
In the grand scheme of things, I considered myself lucky. I had a safe haven to ride out the storm, thanks to my amazing friend. While the storm was whipping itself into a frenzy outside, I was inside having great conversations, watching movies, doing puzzles and enjoying great glasses of wine and champagne. I couldn't have asked for a better place to weather the storm, both physically and emotionally.
I’m hoping that the next time I visit Queensland, it’s nothing but sunshine and koalas—rather than a tropical cyclone chasing me down the coast, trying to take center stage and ruin my vacation.
Have you had a vacation planned only to end up with a totally different experience?
And I was a week behind Laura visiting family who’d sandbagged and taped windows. Beach on Gold Coast was highly eroded/gone, trees trunk pulled from ground, shops recovering/opening while repairing. We managed to stick toes in warm pacific and capture sunset…but everyone said exactly same as Laura lived through. Scary and devastating damage. I’m glad you were safe with a friend! I will tag you when I get around to writing my posts ….you have all the facts and perfect reactions spot on! Being flexible and living in the moment took on new meaning! 🤗☺️Well done, my friend!
I’m so glad your post found its way to me from my feed, as I just wrote an article about my experience with Storm Eoiyn when I was in Scotland in January!
The way you captured the intensity of Cyclone Alfred while weaving in the emotions of the moment was incredible. There’s something both terrifying and awe-inspiring about being at the mercy of nature, and you described it beautifully.
I could feel the chaos, the uncertainty, and the strange sense of surrender that comes with storms like this.
It reminded me of my own recent experience!
There’s a certain kind of clarity that comes when you realize you have no choice but to ride it out 🙏 Full surrender.