HISTORY OF CYCLONE “ALTHEA”
In the hot, steamy atmosphere of the ocean near the Solomon Islands, about the middle of December, a larger than usual area of cloud began to develop horizontally and vertically. Just when the winds below this cloud mass rose to a
strength somewhat more than a tropical breeze will never be known because no person or instrument was there to record these facts.
However, once in every twentyfour hours, the U.S. meteorological satellite ESSA 8 transmitted a photograph to
Australian receiving stations and by 21 December, meteorologists of the Bureau’s Tropical Cyclone Warning Centre at Brisbane saw definite indications of a strengthening of the circulation and issued a “tropical advisory”, warning
meteorological offices and local authorities of the presence of a tropical low 250 miles southwest of Honiara which could develop into a cyclone.

The shot taken as ESSA flashed by on the following morning left no room for doubt: “ALTHEA” was developing force and was continuing to move in the direction of the Queensland coast. During the day, pressure at the centre fell gradually and winds intensified. Since early morning heavy seas had been crashing over Lihou Reef where and automatic weather station measured and reported falling pressure and changes in force and direction of the wind.

About noon on 23 December it was again photographed from outer space and as the day went by, reports from the automatic station on Flinders Reef indicated that the centre was passing just south of that location. From these sources of information it was clear that “ALTHEA” was still building up its energy and that its landfall would
occur before the next noon.

At 10 am on 24 December, the relatively calm area of the “eye” crossed the coast some 30 miles north of Townsville so that Palm Island, Magnetic Island and Townsville bore the brunt of the most destructive winds. The unrelenting pressure of the wind drove the sea water before it causing a rise in level of 9 foot in the estuary of the Ross River and flooding the main streets of the city. Gusts reaching 125 mph picked up debris, tore building components loose and drove them with such force that some smashed holes in fibro-cement walls.

Within eight hours of crossing the coast and moving inland in a southwesterly direction, the winds had dropped below gale force but rainfall was exceptionally heavy on 25, 26 and 27 December causing major flooding in all the central and
southern interior river systems of Queensland.

“ALTHEA” crossed the coast again towards midnight on 27 December between Double Island Point and Maryborough. Deriving fresh energy from contact with the ocean, the cyclone showed evidence of some regeneration and winds once more rose to gale force between Pialba and Noosa Heads but its path in a southwesterly direction took it into colder waters and its identity was lost in the Tasman Sea by the end of December.

The few days of its contact with the Australian mainland were extremely costly: three people died, the material damage in the Townsville region alone has been conservatively estimated at 25 millions of dollars and the terror, anxiety and sheer inconvenience it produced are beyond assessment.

Taken from:
Offical BoM Report of STC Althea

SCT Althea home movies

Australian Womans Weekly Wednesday 19 January 1972

THE YEAR CHRISTMAS NEVER CAME

READERS STORIES OF THE CYCLONE IN NORTH QUEENSLAND

STEEL power poles bent by the wind on Stanley Bridge, Townsville.

FAY PAGE and her husband were living in their almost-completed home in the quiet resort of Balgal Beach, 30 miles north of Towns- ville, when North Queensland's worst cyclone struck. She jotted down quick notes during the lull in the eye of the cyclone and again near the storm's end, and later sat down and wrote this account:

"I wondered for the hundredth time just how much more could the building and we take"

THURSDAY, December 23. It was mid afternoon when we heard for the first time of the

Weather Bureau's report that Cyclone Althea was 380 miles north-east of Bowen and heading in a westerly direction. By the time we returned home that night it seemed we might expect a visit.

By 9 p.m. we had secured everything possible around the house, yard, and garage. Winds had begun to blow a bit. By 10.45 we had a power failure. Lights came on again some time around mid- night-but were off again by 3 a.m. Heavier gusts were now beginning to whip around the house and occa- sional vibrations were felt
through our second-storey floor.

Christinas Eve, 5 a.m. Winds now gaining intensity so moved bedding to ground floor and awaited daylight. By 8.30 Cyclone Althea had well and truly arrived.

Storming in from a south- westerly direction, she unleashed her fury upon our small beach resort. The bullets of pure wind-fury came in regimented attacks every few minutes. The sounds of their approach sent cold shivers up our tensed bodies as we heard them approaching over the surrounding foliage with a noise
not unlike the roar of a mighty diesel locomotive.

Our home is an A-frame construction, with the roofing iron in 29ft. lengths which reach right to the ground. (We chose this type of home after seeing two A-frame houses which withstood Cyclone Ada in the Whitsundays two years ago.)

Held on to door
The winds pounded on our fibro back wall and along the southern side of the roof. We had opened the front windows and it took the two of us to hold the twin glass doors at the front from flying out under the strength of the vortex created as the "bullets" hit.

Standing holding those glass doors gave us a first hand view of the wind's mighty fury.

Trees were being bent right to the ground and then lashed back up into the air and twisted around as another gust attacked them.

Wattle trees cracked like matches under the strain; while the tall box-top gums took the might of the blows surprisingly well, but the downfall of many was when flying debris built up on their branches and the extra weight proved too much and down they would crash.

Our back wall, which was still copping the main part of the blow, was actually bowing in a good six inches (we had completed only half of the second-storey flooring, and nothing was tying in the back wall (internally). The strong 6in. x 2in. 'beams that run from the cement floor at the base of the house right up to the roof (at intervals of 3ft.) were folding in anything up to eight or nine inches on the southern side and belling out the same amount on the opposite side of the house.

Every new bullet of wind would make the house really shudder and tremble. And we wondered just how much more any manmade building could take (especially as we had constructed this building by ourselves!).

Such was the amount of noise and chaos around us that the only way we could manage to hear our transistor radio was to turn it up full volume and hold it jammed tight against our ear - even then it was extremely diffi- cult. The weather report at 9.30 a.m. said that the cyclone was expected to cross the coastline between Cardwell and Rollingstone between 10 a.m. and 12 noon - and then was spotted to hit most likely around Halifax Bay to Cape Cleveland.

Brown breakers

lf this was correct, with our winds so terrible at this stage, I wondered if we would ever survive by the time "she" really arrived. For after being caught out on Hook Island during the devastating Cyclone Ada, I knew the mighty, fanatical strength of the winds in a bad cyclone.

From our second floor we were able to view the sea during breaks in the bullets of wind - and what a sight! Mighty masses of dirty brown, wind-lashed breakers followed one another in, to beat their might and fury out against the beach and trees that valiantly struggled to hold up against the onslaught The white feathery tops of the waves never had a chance, for as soon as the waves began to break the wind picked up the white foaming mass and whipped it away.

Just after 10 am.
Comparative silence and peace arrived with the "eye" of the cyclone. Already we were tired and it seemed as if days had passed since this mighty force had struck us. Making the most of the quiet, we dashed outside and I checked the immediate house area and cleaned out the debris-filled rain-gutters.

Also we shifted some of the roofing-iron that had I been flying around from the house next door after it

gave up the fight and collapsed like a pack of cards.

Hurriedly consuming a I cordial drink, we closed the windows at the front of the house and opened the back II windows and door in preparation for the second part of Cyclone Althea.

By 10.30 a.m. the attack " was under way. Our predicitions proved correct - the wind had swung right round and was now arriving from the opposite direction: she P came in on a north-easterly ? front. None of the storm's : strength seemed to have abated, and I wondered for the hundredth time just how much more could the building and we take.

Tunnel of wind.

It seemed to me that thert were not quite so many individual bullets of wind or a this half, but rather that they were in some kind of tunnel and a loud rushing wall of water and wind was approaching, getting louder and louder, fiercer and fiercer. By midday we felt sure that it should just about due to finish, for the strongest and worst blow in the morning, from the south- west, had lasted about one and a half hours, and we expected that the second half of Cyclone Althea would peter out around noon.

But no; 12.30 and not a sign of easing!

Twenty minutes past one, and still gusting savagely.

At 2 p.m. After hearing on the local radio broadcast that Townsville residents were beginning to come to

life and the wind had dropped to some 40 knots, we felt that we, too, must very shortly begin to expect winds to drop.

Stung by sand

So even though we looked out and the trees, now stripped totally of foliage, were still throwing them- selves around wildly, we decided to venture out, for we thought some of the older residents of our nor
mally quiet beach resort might be in trouble.

It was ten past two when we stepped out and into the full force of the wind. I would have no hesitation in stating that she would have still been gusting at 80 knots. Sand stung our legs and faces as we carefully picked our way around collapsed power lines, sheets of iron, and other debris lying scattered like confetti.

At 3 p.m. Winds still howling like a gigantic banshee in misery. Bullets still whipping past I would esti
mate at 50-80 knots. Still blowing from the north-east, and the seas have done a complete change and now pound the beach from the north-east direction, sending sprays of salty rain hundreds of yards back up along the beach.

At 8 p.m. Winds dropping off considerably, and raining heavily. No lights or power, and we were completely worn out. Rigged up bedding on the rain-soaked floor and, to the sounds of rain and wind, dropped into a dreamless oblivion.

Christinas Day. On the surface all was bleak and miserable but still we were alive and healthy, and for- tunate enough to have suffered no real damage to the house, unlike many of the more unfortunate people who lost homes, roofs, and personal gear.

Spent the day chopping a pathway through fallen trees and cleaning up generally, which meant shovelling sand and branches and tons of leaves out of the house. Even up on the second floor, leaves and sand lay thick where they had been blown.

"My little daughter was shivering with fright, tears rolling down her cheeks, but never made a sound"


FRANCES VAN DER LINDEN, with her husband and two young children, lives in Cranbrook, Townsville. Many families had experiences similar to theirs. She writes:

It was Thursday, two days before Christmas and much the same as in past years, with a busy day of preparations for the holidays. To avoid a rush, I decided to do my weekly grocery shopping today instead of my usual Friday but had a list of last-minute things to be done on Christmas Eve.

Off and on during the day cyclone warnings had come over the radio, but looking at our clear sky I felt there was little threat.

Toward evening, clouds banked up and the rain started, plus a lot of wind. We began the usual cyclone procedure of packing away tools, wheelbarrow, etc., but still weren't worried, as we had gone through this preparation several , times before, and each time the cyclone had veered off in another direction, or fizzled out before it did much harm to Townsville.

Friday the 24th, and the wind was blowing between 60 and 70 m.p.h. and raining heavily. We had no power, but were able to hear latest bulletins from the transistor radio. The wind was getting worse, and we saw our gum tree fall on to our back stairs and roof and on to the rotary clothes - hoist, which it flattened.

Next the office downstairs went, and we watched as my husband's treasured books and business papers went flying every which-way.

By now I truly felt thc prickle of fear in every nerve, and understood the dread of cyclones my grand- parents had after living through the fearful Leonta which hit Townsville about 60 years ago. Judging by the radio, it looked as though Cyclone Althea was to be the daddy of them all.

Next, a loud explosion from our back window, and in a second wind, rain, and glass seemed to be every- where. My husband grabbed for me and the children, as he feared the roof was about to go.

Said a prayer

We rushed out on the front porch, which was in a kind of pocket, but in a sense much more frightening as we could see exactly what was going on. We heard the windows exploding one by one, and were dreading what
the inside of our home must look like.

We saw a utility drive by, only to stop because of a fallen tree. In that truck the poor man sat through the whole blow, helpless to even run to safety as the air was full of roofing and trees and all kinds of dangerous missiles. I saw sheets of red roofing flying past and realised it came from the roof of my friend and near neighbor, and prayed for them and their family of young ones.

Next, across the road, a home 12 months newer than ours started to come apart before our eyes. This was my lowest point, as I felt if that ene can't make it, how can ours? My little daughter sat between my husband and me and was shivering with fright, with tears rolling down her cheeks, but never made a sound, nor did my ten-year-old son, and I feel very proud of them.

Christmas cards, decora-tions, parts of our Christmas tree, and blinds off the windows came flying out of the front door. My new watch, just three weeks old, must have gone, too, as we haven't seen it since. For three hours we stood soaking wet, shivering with fear and chill, until the wind seemed to be easing at last.

After the cyclone passed over it rained for two days, thus making it doubly miserable for the many who had no roof. The river came up and flooded the low-lying areas, and a pathetic call for help came over the radio from a family whose house was about to be washed away.

We were without power for six days, which meant no fridge, in temperatures of around 95. We had to bury our pork and ham and many other special treats we'd saved hard to buy for Christmas.

But we came out of it safe and sound and our home still has a roof on it, and we were even able to dry out the remains of our Christmas tree and gifts. There are many in the city w+io have lost everything, home, clothes; precious keepsakes, the lot. I am sure most of the people of Townsville will remember 1971 as the year Christmas never came.

"I thought I had better set the table I knew you would come"

CHARLOTTE P. NELSON mentions people in Townsville who "played a small but important part in keeping our morale so high."

CHRISTMAS DAY,

1971, will always stay in my memory as a day when the sound of power saws on wood and hammering on tin pre
dominated.

Twenty-four hours before, we had all been struggling to keep our feet on the ground, our windows from being blown out, our roofs from being blown off. And comforting the scared. We were all scared, but some more than others.

Some who were not so fortunate as ourselves had already lost their roofs by 8.30 a.m., and others, cower- ing under their houses, heard them explode above them.

My overpowering impression was one of noise: wind roaring, sea crashing in gigantic waves as it fell upon houses, destroying them; tin falling, clattering and banging as it brought down more debris; trees uprooted and crashing down.

This great barrage of noise upon the senses is still being felt, and people who lie tossing sleeplessly in the heat, which has been with us since Althea, still have an ache in their cars.

Stories of bravery, even foolhardiness, all inspired by a desire for survival, are commonplace now, and when we have recovered from the shock we have all suffered I am sure everyone will feel indebted to those
people, not mentioned in relief organisations, who played a small but important part in keeping our morale so high.

Food produced

The people who, when our marvellous Electricity Board had restored some power, produced nearly cold drink and stored food, offered a hot meal, or a shower, or those who collected tin for a patched-up roof, or opened their shops so we could finish our Christmas shopping and have some sort of Christmas Day.

My greatest memory will always be of a visit we paid to an elderly lady on Christmas morning.

We went to see if she was safe. When we arrived we found her with a few sheets of iron missing, a yard full of water from the Christmas Eve flood, busy cooking a duck on a paraffin heater. And, lo and behold in the middle of the chaos, on her table was a starched white cloth with all manner of fascinating savories laid out.

Although her power had been off since Thursday night she still had some cold drinks in her picnic cooler. We were greeted with the words, "Happy Christmas! I thought I had better set the table - I knew you would come."

Hi all, just thought I'd tell my little story of my memories of Cyclone Althea, short and brief and relatively unspectacular. Cyclone Althea is probably my second meteorological memory, the first is falling into shallow floodwaters sometime in the late sixties.

At the time I was only a young boy. We lived in Hyde Park across the saltpan from what is now The Hyde Park Centre but at that time was an old sawmill (or was it gasworks?). I remember my parents receiving a phone call from neighbours a few houses up on the other side saying they could see our roof starting to go and asked if we wanted to shelter in their place which so far was still intact. We took them up on the offer and drove three houses up the street to their place. Once inside I was always trying to get to the window to watch the cyclone, but as one would expect my parents kept dragging me away. One of the brief glimpses I did get was of seeing a streetlight flapping around like a flag.

When we returned to our house after the cyclone five sheets of iron were gone and the house was saturated. The big mango tree in the back yard was completely defoliated and paint was blown off the back of the house. There was miscellaneous debris around. A house around the corner only had half of its walls remaining and a house across the road had what looked like a 10 foot spear protruding from the roof. Because our house was uninhabitable at that stage we stayed at "The People's Palace" in Sturt St. for a few days until I presume tarps were organised. I remember being with my father when he tried to drive back to the house, maybe a day after but was blocked by floodwaters. We must have went sightseeing at some stage as there are pictures of my sister and I down at the Strand playing in the erosion and washouts caused by the cyclone.

When I look at the home movie of Althea on Youtube I think the average wind in that was probably equal to the gusts we experienced from Yasi...

Great reading SBT!

Yes it was a good read indeed and a good reminder that tc's also occur in QLD not just NT, the QLD dry air inversion means a nice break from tropical cyclone watching and also a chance for the water temps to get a bit hotter. The way things look late season TC for QLD with near term being more GOC going by those sea temps. Definately the way the Lanina Elnino pattern is changing big TC's will be on the menu for the QLD coast this season and in the next few seasons. SBT i rekon the the severe TC hovering in the Brisbane 512 a few years ago that eventually went SE was pretty asesome. Am still waiting for another transfer wave to begin its journey west from the far east mtsat.

just a few links for those that want some more info on althea,
from BOM -
http://www.bom.gov.au/cyclone/history/althea.shtml

and also some restored footage of her from you tube, being a day time crossing she provided some nice footage. you can hear breaking glass from around 48seconds.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K9Jq_zOh_9k

Awesome footage Mick10, really hope something like that never happens here.

The sound of the wind and glass were all added, much like the applauding in Channel 7 shows hey Mick.

Althea would also have to be the most intense land-falling December cyclone on record for Queensland. Can’t think of any other worse ones off the top of my head.

I grew up in Townsville and my earliest memory is of the coconut tree flapping in the wind during TC Althea. The fronds were slapping on the ground as the tree flexed nearly to a right angle. It was permanently bent over from that day on.

Thankfully the house was relatively unharmed but I've had a fascination with TCs ever since.

Great footage of Althea Mick, the sound of that wind sent shivers up my spine thanks to Yasi, I never want to hear that sound again, but unfortunately I think I live in the wrong place, as it will happen again, its just a matter of When.

i recorded the winds blowing through the front door at work during yasi on my phone. that high pitched howl. very freaky to listen to.

I am sure Althea probably sounded even worse.
So what about the glass breaking, is that real?
After reading SBT account of Althea I am glad we didn't live here then. We are 30ks Nth and I wouldn't like to have that hit head on.

I just watched that video. It was brilliantly done. Very scary though... lets hope that does not happen to us for a long time. Though living in the tropics you never know.