#before I swiftly return to my copy of To Survive On This Shore which I am reading to procrastinate getting started on The Night Watchman

[toastybugguy]

No transmed could ever be as powerful as a trans man who loves his tits and a trans woman who loves her penis

[earthstory]

A First Hand Experience of the Kaikoura Earthquake Sequence

At 12:02am on Monday 14th November 2016 a 7.8 Magnitude quake struck near the small town of Waiau, South Island, New Zealand. This is what it felt like.

It’s 12:01am on Monday morning and I’m curled up in bed with my girlfriend trying to catch some sleep before our flight out of Wellington in the morning. Our host's flat is 10 floors up, giving excellent views of the central business district in which it's situated. Hailing originally from the UK, I have spent the last year living in Christchurch and thought that a weekend trip to New Zealand’s capital might be a nice break from several weeks’ worth of panicked work.

What had been a relaxing and enjoyable weekend was about to change very quickly. At 12:02 I’m woken up by a weak shaking, as if the bed and entire apartment has started to vibrate gently. In Christchurch, it's common for houses to shake like this when large trucks or busses drive past, however being 10 floors up this shaking can only mean one thing: Earthquake.

I sit up in bed and wait. The shaking will either gently subside and I can go back to sleep or it will suddenly intensify. I look around the room noting that nothing hangs from the ceiling but that the only source of cover is a small desk. It's barely big enough to shield one of us and its proximity to the floor to ceiling glass windows make me think twice. Being caught in a big quake is bad enough – staring down 10 floors while desperately holding on seemed worse.

After the first few seconds the shaking intensifies, the gentle vibrations being replaced with sudden shunting motions. I leap out of bed – simultaneously grabbing my partner and my clothes. Running out of the building isn’t an option – horror stories of Christchurch residents having stairwells bend and twist underneath them and of people opening doorways only to find staircases entirely missing means leaving the building isn't an option. Not until it stops shaking.

As the violence of the shaking continues items begin to fall off the wall – first a book swiftly followed by a mirror. Having discarded the desk as an unfeasible option we both head for the door frame. As I go to turn the door handle I hear the wine bottles in the hall way starting to smash, with some hitting the door to our room. If I don’t open the door, then I can’t stand in the doorway and can’t utilise the stability it provides. However, if I do open it I risk being hit by glass and other debris which is now loose in the hallway.

I decide to remain poised – if the glass bottles stop but the shaking continues then I open the door but up until then I remain trapped in the room. At this point the shaking is at its most violent, we can hear the building groan as it sways and I desperately struggle to remain upright. Realising that I am completely hopeless – that nothing I can do can influence my chance of survival and that my entire existence rests on the integrity of a building I know nothing about – I grab my partner and we hold each other as we wait for the shaking to stop.

After what feels like a decade (somewhere in the region of 1 to 2 minutes) the building comes to a rest. I hurriedly dress myself and then slowly ease open the door into the corridor. Before I survey the damage I call out to our host to make sure he is ok. He appears in the hallway looking confused, his previously immaculate flat now running red with ruined wine. I turn back into the room, conscious of the fact that we have mere seconds until the aftershocks begin but also aware that this may be the last time we are allowed into this building over the coming days. I tell my partner to grab all our belongings and we desperately begin to fumble in the dark, the earthquake having blown the fuses for the apartment.

We then race downstairs, saying silent prayers that we can make it down the ten flights before the next earthquake rolls in. Once outside our attempts to understand what has just happened begin. My first port of call is an app called ‘GeoNet Quake’ which provides information on where the earthquake occurred and how strong it was. I look at the screen in horror – a 7.2 centred in Culverden, in the South Island. This area is far closer to my hometown of Christchurch than it is to Wellington and I furiously begin contacting my friends to see how they are. Christchurch is still recovering from the 2010/2011 sequence that took 185 lives and decimated what was once the country’s second largest city (see here for more information: http://bit.ly/2jC3iYm). Even if people were ok physically, the shaking was sure to have brought back memories that have haunted residents for the past 5 years.

Partially thanks to a Facebook check in post, I begin to realise that everyone I care about is ok. As we sit outside feeling the aftershocks rumbling through, I suddenly realise I have no idea what to do now. Desperate Google searches bring up nothing and having never lived in Wellington I am oblivious to any emergency procedures that may be in place. Alarms are going of across the city and emergency vehicles streak past, filling the night with an array of haunting sirens. Other people begin to gather outside, each looking as bewildered as the next. People see our rucksacks and check we are ok and that we have somewhere to stay before walking aimlessly on into the night.

As a potential violent aftershock rumbles through I check Geonet. Panic begins to rise as I notice some of the aftershocks are beginning to arrive from the North Island not the South. Wellington is sat right on top of a fault that has the potential to bring the capital to its knees. It’s not unknown for one earthquake to trigger others on nearby faults and I catch myself before I go into full blown panic. I cross my fingers and continue to scroll through the list of aftershocks.

As I scroll one earthquake captures my eye. Registering a high 5 or low 6 it appears to have been centred in the seaside town of Kaikoura. Once again my stomach drops. Kaikoura is a tourist hotspot famous for the abundance of seals, dolphins and whales that visits its shores. The reason for its abundance of sea life? A huge offshore canyon where nutrients rise and provide a bountiful feast for its watery inhabitants. It’s also a canyon that has the potential to suffer submarine slides during strong earthquakes. This in turn can trigger tsunamis.

It’s now about 1 or 2 hours post-quake, and once again I desperately try to access information on what is going on. In my panicked searching, I find a tweet from a government site stating that a Tsunami warning has been put out for the entire east coast of New Zealand. Back in Christchurch I live in one of the seaside suburbs, one of the suburbs that is now at risk from the quake induced waves. I copy the tweet and forward it on to my housemates – both seeming surprised having yet to receive any information from the New Zealand Defence Force website. Despite the tsunami warning sirens remaining silent, and several websites still oblivious to the threat, they make their way up into the hills to spend a restless night in their car wondering if our house would stand up to the waves headed towards shore.

Feeling more useless than ever I continue to hunt for updates – trying to piece together what has happened. I knock on the window of a nearby car that has a family huddled inside intently listening to the radio. They kindly fill me in on the news but its once again nothing of real substance. I consider our options; no-one has come around to check our building and the aftershocks are still consistently hitting with such force that I have no wish to return to our 10th storey apartment. However, with the tsunami warning out a decision must be made: to head towards the hills encircling the city or to return to the apartment.

Not knowing the damage to the hills or the infrastructure leading there I decide to return to the apartment. We sprint up the 10 flights of stairs and huddle in the only part of the flat not showered in glass or unknown fluids. I set my phone to the local radio station and for the next few hours we sit, huddled under a blanket wincing with each aftershock – waiting to see if this will be another big one and send us running for cover.

After 3 or 4 hours our host returns and we attempt to clean up the apartment. Once that is complete we decide to try and get some sleep. My partner swiftly falls asleep while I lay awake paralysed with fear that the next earthquake will set off the fault slumbering beneath us.

Thankfully damage to infrastructure in Wellington was minor and we were able to fly back to Christchurch the next day. The relief of being in the air and therefore being unable to feel any aftershocks was huge even if short lived. Back in Christchurch we could still feel the aftershocks rocking through and for 24 hours had the car boot packed in case another tsunami warning was released and we had to head to the hills.

While the experience was pretty scary it hasn't left me with any residual anxiety. I do have a greater appreciation of the fact that the earth can move suddenly and without warning (even though I'm a geologist) and that preparation is key to making it through.

Watson

For more information on the Kaikoura Earthquake check out our other posts: https://tmblr.co/Zyv2Js2EhM2SU https://tmblr.co/Zyv2Js2F7Gy_k https://tmblr.co/Zyv2Js2H0eWxk Image Credit: Kate Pedley (http://bit.ly/2jSDc3E) and Tamsin Laird For more awe-inspiring images of post quake features the UC Science (http://bit.ly/2j6XMOI) facebook page