Visitors once marvelled at the scenery here that changed when viewed from different perspectives. Looking west from the kitchen to the blue haze of the Hinterland Mountains, one could see the myriad of canal systems and parklands spread out like a snakes and ladders board game. The canals now fed by the ocean through two dams, one across the Seaway entrance, with a secondary dam across the mouth of the river at Southport, lie dormant now without the ebb and flow of the tides. Small boats moored at pontoons and jetties on the edges of the canals replaced the luxury ocean going cruisers that could no longer traverse the shallow canals, that were now locked into the inland waterways, unable to take their owners out deep sea fishing or whale watching.
Along the eastern front where the ocean met the land, stone and earthen dykes ten metres high, twelve metres wide along the top, and twenty metres deep at the base, protected the skyscraper apartment buildings and shops and homes from the encroaching sea.
The endless dyke abutted Nobby’s Hill, the nine metre headland at Miami to the south, then continued south to Burleigh Heads. It wove it’s way south like the great Wall of China, sometimes shooting back to the mountains in places, where towns had been sacrificed to the Pacific thrust.
The northern sea dyke stopped just past the Southport Yacht Club where it met the ocean dam, then continued along Stradbroke Island from the other side of the dam, to meander further north to Brisbane. The massive earth works had begun in 2016, when the temporary walls proved to be useless against the lashing waves of the Pacific Ocean. The government, like most in the world were forced to impose substantial levies on all businesses and residents, to help pay for the exorbitant costs of having earthmoving machines and trucks working twenty-four hours a day, year in and year out, constructing or raising the dykes all along the coastal areas on seal level.
The marinas of the Southport Yacht Club were mostly devoid of the ocean going yachts and cruisers that once moored here. A few wealthy people had stubbornly kept their luxury vessels here and used them more for floating entertainment venues for their friends, rather than cruising up and down the coast line, and they could still find their way north to the city of Brisbane through the inland bays fed by ocean dams. The white canvas sails above the Marina Mirage shopping village pointed sharply skyward, emulating the graceful sails of a nineteenth century tall ship, struggling to be noticed, dwarfed by the imposing walls of the dyke.
The blue Pacific to the east beat out her rhythm, once providing excitement and fun to surf riders and swimmers, now threatening man’s seaside existence, as it crashed against the dyke, sending up great clouds of spray and foam.
The north-western backdrop was of row upon row of fifteen-storey council flats; hurriedly assembled grey boxes resembling Leggo building blocks like something out of 1980 Russia, had been constructed to house the mixture of Chinese and Indian immigrants who had forsaken their homeland cities.
Nick walked to the large Navilon sliding doors and onto the generous balcony, and stared miserably out to sea. He looked at the calm cobalt water and the waves lashing the dyke in ever continuing troughs, and a cold chill ran down his spine. He had seen storm waves in action many times and knew the havoc they unleashed, and he had studied the North Sea where man-made breakwaters constructed from thousands of tons of iron, cement and boulders were destroyed in minutes by ten to fifteen-metre waves. Man had no defence against such force.
Most of the high-rise buildings around him, including his own, had been built to withstand cyclones, but the forces of wind could not be compared to that of a tsunami. He looked across to the vast ultramodern Phoenix complex of four, twenty-six storied towers linked by an ingenious steel and Navilon-domed skyway, and wondered if its designers had thought about tsunamis. Surfers Paradise’s semitropical climate invited the occasional bad storm that eroded the sands from time to time, but they quickly recovered. Now there were no sandy beaches, just ugly dykes. The local council had enforced strict building codes in recent years but the entire area was once swampy marshes and much was reclaimed from the sea, so all those safe buildings stood on unstable sand. Nick could only imagine what would happen when the ocean unleashed its fury and reclaimed that land.
Far below he watch a family enjoying a picnic on the narrow grass strip abutting the dyke, where once they would have lain on the warm white sandy beach. They prepared to move out of the dark shadows cast by the tall buildings, and the young children laughed happily, but the parents faces were sad as they recalled previous times when there was blinding white sand and rolling, frothing surf.
Behind them across the narrow street, a small sidewalk cafe bustled with people sipping fragrant Italian coffee, where once bright umbrellas for protection against the morning sun were made redundant by the ten metre dyke blocking the rising sun from the east. He watched the passing parade of bored groups of youths and girls, old couples out for a quiet afternoon stroll, and the occasional disenchanted Japanese tourist.
He used to love to watch the large fancy kites that once had danced in the wind above the beach, with their waving, clever colourful shapes and fluttering bright tails dipping and diving overhead, anchored to fragile strings held by laughing children and geriatric grandparents. The sun-filled streets once teeming with jostling, laughing people were dotted by empty shops, their owners long since accepting the grim realisation that business would never return.
Nick returned inside and flopped on the couch. ‘Phone. Josh please.’ He commanded.
‘Nick, it’s about time you called I’ve run out of excuses. Where are you?’ Josh said.
‘I’m home mate. Australia. You can stop lying now, they can’t do anything about it, besides I thought they’d be too busy. Have you been able to contact Laura?’
‘Yeah, she’s okay. She said to thank you for sending Maxime. She’s worried, wants me to look out for you. How did you get there so quickly?’
‘It’s a long story, but what about Laura, is there any chance of springing her?’
‘Not right now. It’s chaos here man, she’s better off where she is.’
‘Yeah, I guess you’re right.’ Nick sighed. ‘Well, if you talk to her again, give her my love. Okay?’
‘Yes, I will. How’s the Australian Government taking it?’
‘Stoically as expected. They’ve got operation Star Flight rolling here as well. Listen mate, I mightn’t be able to keep in touch now I’ve got so much to do here. I know you’ll be okay, and I want you to know how much your friendship’s meant to me.’
There was a pause on the line and Nick’s eyes flashed across the sea. That cold shiver passed through his spine again as Josh replied. ‘Thanks buddy, I feel the same. We’ll meet again when this is over, I know it. Don’t try to be every body’s’ saviour, you can only do so much. Look after yourself and let the experts look after everyone else. The military’s in control now. God help them.’
‘Hooray mate. See you whenever.’ Nick said.
‘Bye Nick. Take care, don’t do anything stupid.’ He disconnected.
Nick looked around his beautiful apartment.Damn!He thought,everything was going so well. The bloody devil’s got his pitchfork in my back again, this time he’s bloody-well twisting it.
He ruffled his hands through his hair and threw himself down on a sofa where he sat quietly thinking, feeling miserable and full of self-pity, and wondering what he was going to tell his brother.This’s no good, have to pull myself together, he thought. It was time to call Brian.