by M.E Ashdown

Created on: July 10, 2008

Capturing the wave

The winter evenings creep in early, so it was already quite dark as we headed home from Bendigo and hit the esses just out of Marong. The open spaces gave us a good view of the evening sky and my first glimpse of a cloud formation I had never seen before.

A long, low cloud with a flat base hung in the sky. It bowed out slightly at the front and looked like a wave of water as it billowed back onto itself at the top. The most curious thing about it though, was its colour it was green.

"Can you stop for a moment?" I asked, "I want to try to get a photo of that"

Bob slowed a moment so he could get a look at the cloud. He is usually very amenable to my photo stops so he surprised me when he sped up again and said that we didn't have time.

Bob has a very scientific mind, which devours all manner of natural phenomenon including meteorological data. He explained that that particular cloud formation was potentially dangerous. The green colour meant that it was carrying large quantities of very cold water, probably hail and we couldn't afford to be caught in the open when it hit.
He took note of the wind direction and the cloud's path and estimated that it would cross the Calder ahead of us. It would be touch and go if we could get past it before it reached the highway.

We reached Bridgewater with the cloud still heading in our direction and looking ominously close. Bob hesitated for a second then made the decision to try for Inglewood, eight klms away.
The tension in the car was almost tangible as the cloud drew closer. Suddenly the wind picked up, tossing the treetops in a thousand directions and as we passed the speed restriction signs the first few raindrops fell on the windscreen.
As we rounded the bend into the main street a curious silence seemed to envelope us. Bob turned a corner into a narrow road surrounded by tall buildings and stopped the car.
The sky above had taken on an eerie yellow glow and for a moment or two there was silence, then a thunderous hammering began on the roof of the car. Within seconds, nothing was visible but water.
Bob put the windscreen wipers on at full speed but they were totally inadequate for such a deluge and so we sat and waited. We were unable to see anything outside, unable to make ourselves heard over the pounding water and ice, and shaken by the strong winds that whipped around the buildings.
I could only ponder on our fate had Bob stopped to allow me to take a few pictures. Even so, I still felt a bit cheated of a spectacular shot, the one chance in a million to capture the image of the strange formation as it bore down on us.

As the rain eased, and we were able to make out the street lights again, Bob turned on the headlights to reveal that we were now sitting in a river about six inches deep as the drains struggled to take on the vast volume that had been served to them.

We waited another 20 minutes before continuing our journey, allowing time for the water to drain from the roads, even so, there were still great expanses of it to wade through and fallen tree branches to move or avoid.
Ten klms from Inglewood however, the roads were dry and at home, twenty-five klms away in Wedderburn, our neighbors were blissfully ignorant of the deluge over the hill.

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