The day the earth shook
From Griffith REVIEW Edition 35: Surviving
© Copyright Griffith University & the author.
Written by Ian Lowe
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Ian Lowe’s biography and other articles by this writer
BEING in the middle of the Christchurch earthquake was the most frightening experience of my life. It was a category 6.3 on the Richter scale. So I could hardly believe the intensity of the Japanese earthquake that triggered the catastrophic tsunami. It was a category 9. Since the scale is logarithmic, the Tokyo event was about 500 times more violent than the tremor that devastated Christchurch.
I was in the city for the annual tour of the Honest Trundlers, a group of mature-age cricketers. The trip began wonderfully, with final-over wins in our first two games. I had played a useful role on the field and was feeling cheerful. On Tuesday, 22 February 2011 we were scheduled to play our third game in Rangiora, about fifty kilometres north of the city, but there was heavy overnight rain and the pitch was unfit for play. Most of the team took the minibus and headed out to Mount Hutt.
I chose to stay at our city-centre hotel and work on a report I was writing. I had received comments on the first draft, so I pounded the keyboard all morning. With the work completed except for tidying the footnotes, I went downstairs hoping to meet a colleague for lunch, but I couldn't see him in the foyer.
While I was looking around a man came in wearing a name badge with a logo I recognised: the New Zealand professional engineering body. He was on his way to a seminar with local experts to discuss how Christchurch buildings had coped with the September 2010 earthquake. Another cricketer arrived in the foyer, but he wasn't interested in lunch and said he was going for a walk. So I strolled down High Street and decided to patronise a small shop called Coffee Culture. I went inside, paid for a toasted panini and a flat white, and sat down to read a newspaper while I waited.
THEN IT ALL went to custard. There was a noise like an onrushing train, the floor heaved, things started flying around the small shop. The staff were screaming as the counter lurched violently. I saw other customers diving under tables, so I quickly crouched under mine. The violent shaking only lasted about ten seconds, but it seemed a lot longer - plates and cups crashed to the floor, walls swayed and the ground rose and fell under me. I could die here, I thought. When the shaking stopped I again took my lead from the locals. I covered my head, ducked and ran out into the street. I could see that the building was severely damaged. While the coffee shop was littered with debris, the offices upstairs were a chaotic jumble of fallen beams. A man called for a ladder to rescue trapped people, as the stairs were blocked by debris.
I met James, another cricketer, who had been in an internet café and also taken shelter under his desk before making his way into the street. He had done better than me: he had used the internet but left without paying; I had paid for lunch and left without being served. ‘I don't suppose I can go back in and ask for a refund,' I said. There are times when mordant humour is the only way of coping.
I was worried about the risk of aftershocks and suggested we leave the relatively narrow street for the comparatively open space of the main square in front of the cathedral. He agreed and we set out in that direction. We had just reached the first intersection when there was a violent aftershock. Chunks of masonry fell from buildings and we were glad to be in the middle of the street. I fell to the ground, as did many others. We picked ourselves up and moved on to the square, where we saw the ruins of the cathedral spire, flattened cars and injured people being treated. Hundreds of people were standing around in the comparative safety of the open square, gazing in disbelief at the devastation.
About half an hour after we reached the square, Civil Defence authorities used a loudhailer to tell us that the central area was being evacuated. They told us that we would not be allowed back to our hotel, and must move either to Victoria Park, by the river, or Hagley Park, further away on the western edge of the city. We opted for the shorter walk, edging nervously past buildings that were seriously damaged to the riverside park, and took up a position well away from buildings and trees. The river was swollen, flowing swiftly and carrying lots of debris in its discoloured water. We could see people trapped in a tall office block, out on balconies signalling for help, waving fluorescent vests; apparently the fire escape stairs had collapsed. They were eventually rescued by helicopter.
About an hour later the crowd in the park was again told to move. This time we were ordered to set out on the long trek to Hagley Park where, we were assured, emergency responses were being organised. The hour-long walk west revealed the scale of the devastation, as we passed collapsed buildings and streets littered with masonry. A car parked in a city street had grey sand up to the top of its wheels - the first time we saw the effects of liquefaction.
Two more large aftershocks occurred while we headed out of the CBD. The second forced me to hang on grimly to a timber railing to stay upright. Trees swayed alarmingly above us. We had seen enough fallen trees to be very worried.
At the park we found that the municipal golf course had new water hazards, large areas of grey sand and crevasses extending deep into the earth. There were lots of people, but no facilities of any kind. Desperate for a pee, we relieved ourselves in a small clump of trees, reassuring each other that the Christchurch police had more important things to do than worry about Australian cricketers pissing in the bushes.
MY MOBILE PHONE was in my hotel room but James had his, so we sent messages home to reassure families that we were safe: ‘Shaken but not stirred,' I joked. I later discovered that the system was so overloaded that my message did not reach my partner in South Australia until about 4 pm local time - five hours after I sent it, but fortunately only ten minutes after she was horrified to be told of a devastating earthquake in Christchurch with heavy losses.
About two hours after the earthquake we got a text saying that the other three cricketers who had been in the CBD were all safe, but had been directed to another park on the east of the city. One had been in his hotel room when the earthquake hit. He gathered his passport and wallet to head down the fire stairs, pausing only to shout at a group standing by the lift, pointing out it wouldn't work without electricity. A second had been in a coffee shop at the other end of High Street, where he had eaten most of his lunch before the shop began to fall down around him. The third, the man who told me in the foyer he was going to have a quiet walk rather than lunch, had been strolling down a city street when two buildings on either side collapsed about twenty metres in front of him.