Flood disaster zone a fertile ground for heroism

When the ‘gates of hell’ opened at Ross River Dam, it felt cataclysmic. Across the city, streets were lined with flood refugees towing suitcases.

MOTHER Nature can be a cruel mistress.

But when the “Gates of Hell” opened – unleashing a wall of water doubling the record-high flood levels on Ross River – our fate was sealed.

At ground zero, it felt cataclysmic.

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Townsville suburbs that have never before flooded looked like badly botched canal estates adrift on an inland sea of water.

Dozens of one-level homes were submerged to the top of doorways as stinking masses of river weed spilled into buildings, along with the all- consuming mud.

Across the city, streets were lined with flood refugees towing suitcases in an exodus out of ground zero.

Dave Mitchell helps clean his brother's flood-affected motel in Townsville. Picture: Dan Peled/AAP

Make no mistake, this is a disaster zone of unprecedented proportions in a city that is home to a population of 185,000 people.

Having lived in north and far north Queensland for many years, it was unlike any weather event we had experienced.

But there was a beacon on the horizon. On Monday, we stood witness to north Queensland’s flood flotilla version of the civilian evacuation of Dunkirk.

Winston Churchill then had hailed the World War II rescue that turned the tide of war as a “miracle of deliverance”.

Tinny after tinny, fishing boat after fishing boat, were unloaded at a makeshift boat ramp on a highway crossing.

In one equal temper of heroic hearts, local tradies and State of Origin footy stars rallied to ferry flood-hit families to safety.

Strangers worked side by side to lift bags, cats, dogs, and even children, as they made it to dry land.

It was a sight to behold.

This was particularly so, after having stood at the cobwebbed spillway gates of the Ross River Dam, as politician after politician pledged funding to ease Townsville’s drought.

The clean-up begins at a home in Idalia, Townsville. Picture: Glenn Hunt

In years gone by, the name Brownsville grew from being a term laughed at over a beer, to becoming part of the city’s vocabulary.

When it reached 15 per cent in 2017, the dam looked stagnant as weeds grew out of low-lying rocks.

Fluroscent green backyards had turned into dust pits, while the grass crunched underfoot.

But Townsville is now quickly turning back into a sea of colour.

On Monday, we were fortunate to get out in some boats – one with a kind-hearted resident who wanted to ferry stranded people from their homes, and another with police divers who had been delegated the difficult task of encouraging residents to evacuate.

It was hard to comprehend the devastation in suburbs such as Hermit Park and Rosslea. Water lapped against the windows of low-set homes, while the roofs of fully submerged cars were just visible, as weeds and rubbish floated past. Currents carried fridges and washing machines down suburban streets.

One elderly resident, who refused to leave her home, spoke from her front steps, as a dead bird floated beneath. She said she’d seen dead rats being carried downstream.

The filthy water, made worse by bubbling sewerage in some areas, was just one concern to keep in mind after the reports of crocodiles – both freshies and salties – started surfacing.

One man, who sought refuge on his roof in Rosslea, told police how a 3m crocodile swam up to his front door. This was just moments before authorities rescued him from his home.

Locals stage their own rescues using tinnies at Idalia, Townsville. Picture: Glenn Hunt

Yesterday, we got to see Townsville from the sky, from inside the Army helicopter.

Staggering scenes unfolded below as the water drained away to reveal muddied streets.

The sheer force and violence of the water spilling out of the dam was breathtaking, as it spewed into the Ross River, pushing aside everything in its path.

But despite all Mother Nature threw at us – our proud spirit of mateship shone through.

“We’ll be right” was spoken more times than we could count by almost every person on the ground.

Whether it be those lifting children from boats at the makeshift boat ramp along Stuart Drive, or the families pushing mud out their front doors, the resilience of the north was, and will remain, a formidable force.

The multimillion-dollar clean-up has well and truly begun, and it’s going to take some time before the city dries up.

But beneath the mud and debris will be the opportunity for the city to find its feet again.

The floods will generate work for thousands of people like cleaners, builders, mowers, engineers and labourers, with money flowing back into the community after years of financial hardship.

Homes will need rebuilding, yards will need to be cleared and after all that, a cold beer at the pub will need to be drunk.

The situation is dire, but soon the sun will shine.

Email Domanii Cameron or Peter Michael

Eighty-two-year-old Terry Rowland is rescued from his flooded home in Hermit Park, Townsville. Picture: Glenn Hunt