The streets of Brisbane are deserted – but this time tomorrow it could be chaotic. Cyclone Alfred is due on Saturday and despite the apparent calm, residents have been preparing tirelessly.
The streets of Brisbane are deserted – but this time tomorrow it could be chaotic. Cyclone Alfred is due on Saturday and despite the apparent calm, residents have been preparing tirelessly.
By Courtney Kruk
March 6, 2025 — 4.06pm
There was a strange and unexpected feeling in the air across Brisbane this morning.
From my bedroom window on the city’s south side, the skies were clear and bright. There was only the faintest breeze. Any other March morning and the conditions would have been described as perfect.
Downstairs, the dining room full of outdoor plants, gas cooker and water bottles lining the kitchen bench and bathtub full of water pointed to the less-than-ideal conditions south-east Queenslanders and Northern Rivers residents are gearing up for as Tropical Cyclone Alfred approaches.
It’s already been an interesting week.
This time yesterday, the Bureau of Meteorology was warning the city would feel very different in about 24 hours. By 8pm, the Bureau dropped a major update: Cyclone Alfred had slowed and changed course, and was not expected to make land until Friday evening.
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While Premier David Crisafulli and Lord Mayor Adrian Schrinner were quick to warn against complacency this morning, the news bought Queenslanders a little more time to make final preparations. The neighbours have taped their windows, maybe I should do the same.
For reporters across this masthead, normal hours of operation are already out the window. I filed my last piece of copy about 10pm last night. I clocked my editor online this morning at 5.30am. We’re all glued to the first cyclone to hit south-east Queensland in 50 years.
That has crept into non-waking hours, too.
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Last night I dreamed about frantically trying to find the location of a press conference. I was lost and stressed in a field near Brisbane Airport. At one point, I was speeding over a longer, skinnier version of the Story Bridge.
Today, while driving over the Story Bridge, I thought about the subtext. Certain details don’t make sense, but the pressers, updates and moving around checks out.
The CBD was largely deserted this morning, except for a few tourists and keen joggers. People are already retreating, heeding advice to keep off the roads and stay home.
While the cyclone has slowed, the news is still moving fast.
The bureau is providing updates every hour, and all levels of government are working round the clock to give residents in the storm’s path accurate information.
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All sung from the same hymn sheet today: don’t let those blue skies seduce you into complacency, this weather event is still coming. Even if Alfred calms before hitting, a lighter impact could still mean catastrophic flooding and gale-force winds, which quickly become matters of life and death.
As was pointed out yesterday, for many south-east Queenslanders and Northern Rivers residents, this will be our first experience of a cyclone crossing.
I came close in January last year when Tropical Cyclone Kirrily threatened North Queensland. As the system edged towards land, I was preparing to fly to Airlie Beach for a friend’s 30th.
Cyclone Kirrily crossed north of Townsville as a category 3 system. It dumped more than a metre of rain and was followed by prolonged power outages and extensive flooding. The north might be experienced in cyclonic weather, but the devastation rarely gets easier to deal with.
Natural disasters can be terrifying. The current slow burn of direct impact has created a new kind of anxiety for the region. We’re waiting, but exactly what for, and when, keeps changing.
One expert described a cyclone crossing like being in a train tunnel. The analogy reminded me of an ill-fated camping trip on North Stradbroke Island off the coast of Brisbane a few years ago.
We were in the path of a much lighter weather system but from inside the tent, the roar of the wind was certainly freight train in sound and feeling.
I had the luxury of packing up and heading home the next morning. For hundreds of rough sleepers across south-east Queensland right now, a tent is their permanent residency.
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When I passed Musgrave Park, one of the city’s largest encampments, a few hours ago, there were only two tents left. Thankfully, most of our rough sleepers have been moved into shelters or crisis accommodation before the storm hits.
I worry about the devastation Cyclone Alfred could bring to communities that are still recovering from the severe weather events of recent years, particularly those in the Northern Rivers. But having lived there during the 2022 floods, I know the strength of community. Brisbane has shown the same resilience over the years.
Hopefully, we have all prepared for the worst and will continue hoping for the best. Stay safe, wherever you are reading.
Courtney Kruk is City Reporter at Brisbane Times, writing about the city and its people.
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