What are your hurricane experiences?

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
1

Wow, Bertha’s sure in a hurry to get the hurricane ball rolling this year, isn’t she? It’s been a long time since a hurricane hit my part of the country (Massachusetts), but still I remember:

In 1954, Hurricane Carol churned up the Eastern Seaboard, leaving devastation in its wake, and made its last landfall in Connecticut as a Category 2. Although it inevitably weakened over land, dying at last over southern Quebec, still the damage it did to New England was enormous.

I was five years old then, living in a suburb north of Boston, and have jumbled memories of stunning ferocity raging outside our home; of downed trees and power lines scattered in pick-up-stick piles about our neighborhood when at last it was over; of knowing, even so young, how gnawed by worry my mother was for days afterwards, because my father, a telephone lineman, was out there working incredible hours amid wicked tangles of still-live wires to restore the lines.

There’ve been other great storms in my life since then, such as the Blizzard of '78, pretty much a winter hurricane as far as I’m concerned, but that is my first memory of nature’s terrible power unleashed. What’s yours?

2

The 2004 season was a “good” one for us… between Charley and Frances our power was out for a total of three weeks (including my birthday - yay!)

Charley was also kind enough to drop a tree branch onto the front of my car, which damaged the bumper, fender and hood in just such a way as to convince the State Farm field adjuster that I had driven into a tree.

Oh, and Frances dropped a 40-foot tree onto our (well, our landlord’s) aboveground pool, rendering it two useless plastic semicircles.

I did, however, win $400 playing “hurricane poker” - ie. you get really trashed and then play poker in lantern-light that’s just bright enough to make the numbers on the cards visible, but not the suits :slight_smile:

Since I was working at Disney at the time- and Disney employees are exempt from curfews in Orange, Seminole and Osceola counties- I was expected to work the day Charley was due to arrive, close the store early, and drive the hour back across town… half an hour before the outer bands of the storm would be directly over my house!!!

I made it from Disney, in the southwest corner of the city, to Oviedo, the northeast corner - usually a journey of at least 1 hour on a weekday at 5pm - in 23 minutes. Doing 125 the entire way, in really, really high winds. :eek:

3

:eek:

I hope you had a really, really low-slung car!

4

I visited Nelson County, VA in 1968 after the remains of Hurricane Camille dumped more than 2 feet of rain over the county in 8 hours. My grandfather was from the County and several members of his family were particularly hard hit. NPR did a story on the disaster several years back and I wrote a letter to them with my remembrances - it was even read on the air (so I guess that makes me a very minor celebrity?)

In 1972 Agnes flooded the city where I grew up and I have some pretty vivid memories of that.

I’ve been forced to evacuate the Outer Banks more times than I can count due to advancing hurricanes (twice within a two week period a couple of years ago).

Hurricane Isabel left me without power for 14 days and living in a rented house that was partially destroyed by a falling poplar tree. Another tree crushed my truck during the same event.

5

Nope - a small four-door sedan.

And really, really low-slung balls :wink:

The whole city was already under curfew, so I didn’t have to worry about hitting other cars or anything; I saw fewer than a dozen (on the highway at least) the whole way home, and one of those was a patrol car and another was parked under an overpass.

The only hard part was squeezing through the abandoned toll booths. I admit I slowed down to 90 for those.

Besides, the alternative was driving all the way home on an empty highway (which is raised above the ground for much of its length, and therefore offers about as much cover as an empty field) in even higher winds, in a torrential downpour, with cows and trees and roofing tiles and all the assorted detritus that gathers by the side of a road smacking into the car…

6

I was heading to Key West and when I got there the roads were blocked in anticipation of a hurricane… We drove up tp Homestead and got a room. The hurricane changed direction and made a direct hit on Homestead. I watched the trees bend and rain come down sideways for hours. Then after the eye ,everything changed direction. Trees bent the other way and rain came the other direction.
If they let us into Key West we would have been fine. But I always wanted to see a hurricane. I got a good look at that one.

7

Actually, much worse that this was Connie on August 11, 1955 followed by Diane on August 19, 1955. The resulting flood destroyed much on the Naugatuck River corridor from Winsted to Shelton. Worst flood ever here in Connecticut. I was 1 at the time, so no memory of it at all.

I was in Myrtle Beach SC July 1996 and we were evacuated at 4:30am on July 11 when Bertha turned towards the east coast. Rained all the way up to the Jersey border. Wrightsville Beach NC took a direct hit 10 hours after we went through there. It was not a pleasant experience.

8

2004, Orlando…Charley, Frances, Jean.

The longest we lost power was about 12 hours. My MIL lost the screen around her pool when the tree from her backyard neighbor came crashing down.

We were lucky. No damage to our house, and there were some people at work that didn’t get their power back for days.

9

Now that was a storm! So many people stranded on Rte. 128. We had 11-foot drifts on our two story garage and couldn’t go to work for a week. I lived in Framingham then and the town had little caterpillar sidewalk plows that weren’t up to the job. The sidewalks never did get plowed after that!

Honestly, though, I’d take that storm in a heartbeat over getting slammed by Charley in 2004 and living without power for five days in 95º heat. :stuck_out_tongue:

10

My first hurricane was 1989 when Hugo decided to take the inland route through Charlotte. I heard a crash and woke up. My mom and my older sister were also awake so we went out on the front porch and watched the storm. We saw a couple of idiots driving in it (we lived on a very heavily wooded road out in the back of beyond). A small tree in the church yard across the street got caught in the wind and spiralled out of the ground. That was the point where I decided going inside would be a better plan. My dad, true to form, slept through the whole thing. We were without water and power for two weeks. Lesson learned: a gallon of water is sufficient for four people to take sponge baths.

Then I went to college out in Hurricane Country. Bonnie in 1998 was okay, we mostly watched movies and watched people play in the flooded streets*. I missed Dennis in 1999 due to being out of town, but I was there for Floyd (also known as “The Hurricane that Made People Shut Up About Fran”.) When the university closed, we knew it was bad news so I went back home for a week and came back to a very messy, sandy town. Now Floyd’s the one people won’t shut up about.

There was a hurricane in 2003 (Isabel) that was another Boring Bonnie. Since then nothing.

[SPOILER]*The very next year we found out what a stupid idea that was. What happens when streets flood? The storm drains back up! What happens if the backing up gets worse? The sewers back up! What happens when one girl, whose name has been lost to legend, plays in the flooded streets with all kinds of backflow? Nasty infections!

Don’t play in flooded streets. This has been a message from the Use Your Brain During a Hurricane Foundation.[/SPOILER]

11

In mid-September 1988, Gilbert was essentially covering the entire Gulf of Mexico and looking mighty threatening. I was working near Bay City, TX, at the time, which is right near the coast. I packed up my dog and my guitar and went up to my mom’s for the weekend (she lived in Dallas at the time). I was looking for something to do, and noticed there was a big concert at Texas Stadium. So I got tix and went. Great show! Here’s the bill:

INXS
Guns n Roses (Appetite For Destruction lineup)
Iggy Pop
The Smithereens
Ziggy Marley

Pretty diverse show; they were all good, but I have to say Iggy absolutely stole that show.

More recently, Floyd knocked down a small tree in my yard (yawn).

12

Central Florida–2004. Four hurricanes, three of which passed directly through my county, almost directly over my house. Fortunately, little to no damage at my house. Total days without power…I think 6-7?3

13

September 1998 - I was stationed at the Base Comm Center (BCC) at Tyndall AFB. The BCC had to be manned at all times. And I was lucky enough to be working the swing shift when Hurricane Earl decided to hit the panhandle. First of all, Earl? Seriously? Hurricanes are supposed to have pretty names like (hi!) Opal or Rose. When I think of Earl (no offense to anyone actually named Earl) I think of a crooked car mechanic or a plumber with the namesake crack or maybe even a plucky good natured redneck with a list of wrongs to right. Fine whatever. I’m destined to having my day ruined by an Earl.

I got to work at 2:30 PM like any other day. There were rumors of possibly getting hit, but most predicted that the hurricane would make land fall far to the west of Panama City. I was scheduled to work my normal 8 hr shift so I had a light dinner packed, but was otherwise unprepared for what was about to happen. IIRC, it started raining at about 5:00PM, by about 7:00 the winds had picked up dramatically. My NCOIC gave me a call and informed me that the bridge to base - which was the only way in or out - had just been closed down and if it didn’t reopen by shift turnover, I would be putting in some overtime.

I didn’t figure it to be any big deal. Since the BCC had to be manned at all times, the building was designed to take a nuclear bomb - so a hurricane would stand no chance against it. And, since my job was mostly to just make sure that all the machines were running smoothly, I had a TV and VCR to occupy my time. Everything was just hunky dorey until I got another call from my NCOIC at about 10:00 PM. The first bit of ‘good’ news was that the bridge was going to remained closed until 8:00AM at the earliest. The other bit? Tyndall AFB was now officially in the path of the hurricane and because there was a good chance of power outages, I had to switch the building to generator power.

I hadn’t really looked outside at all up until this point. And, since my office was essentially a steel vault, there was no indication of what the weather was actually doing. After hanging up with my boss, I figured I would take a nice stroll out to the generator, fire it up, switch power and get back to my movie (I’m pretty sure I was watching Primal Fear). I walked to the back of the building, turned the pushed the bar to open the door, and the door was literally ripped from my hands as it violently swung open. It slammed against the outside wall and I got my first look at the beginnings of a hurricane. While it is a true statement to say that it was windy and raining, it doesn’t very well describe what I saw outside that door.

The next day I learned that at around 10:00PM - while I was trying to wrap my head around what I was seeing - the winds were a sustained 60 MPH with gusts up to 90. The rain was coming down hard - well not down so much as left to right at nearly 90°. We got about 15" over the course of a few hours.

I took a couple steps back into the building to access the situation. I looked out into the darkness to where I knew the generator to be - but all I saw was rain. I grabbed a rain poncho that we had in the back room for just these types of situations. It wasn’t a raincoat - think more along the lines of a large plastic sheet with a hole in the middle to stick your head. I’m not sure what I thought it was going to do for me under these conditions, but I figured it was better than nothing.

I stepped out into the storm and immediately had to take five or six steps down wind to catch my balance. The rain was sharp. I could barely breath or open my eyes. I had my shoulder into the wind and my head turned away as I slowly made my way in the direction of the generator. It was only about 50 yds away, but I was soaked to the bone by the time I got there. There was 5 things steps in order that had to be taken in order to start the generator. Luckily, to make sure the generator was in working order, I had done it once a week every week for the past year. I could do it with my eyes closed - which turned out to be a necessity.

The process went smoothly and the generator was running strong. I made my way back to the building. There was one more thing that needed to be done. The building was still on commercial power - I had to manually switch it to generator power. There was a large junction box on the outside of the building. On the outside of that box there’s a 3’ long handle. With the handle pointed up, you have commercial power. The handle has to be swung away from the wall, 180° and slammed so it is pointing down. Think of ‘throwing the switch’ in the old Frankenstein movies. As I grabbed the handle - something I had done 50+ times - a realization hit me. I was soaking wet and standing in about 2’ of water. In my right hand, there was a lever that was physically attached to a circuit that had enough power to run an entire building. The wooden end on the handle to provide insulation offered little comfort. I took a deep breath and slammed the handle. The generator bogged and caught on - which was a good sign.

I stumbled back to the door and struggled to pull it shut again. I took off the poncho with had been shredded by the wind. I took off my boots and hung up my socks. I took off my outer uniform shirt and hung that up as well. After a quick check to make sure everything was up and running, I went into the bathroom and wrung out the rest of my clothes. Of course they weren’t dry. But, at least they weren’t dripping wet.

The rest of the night went by with little excitement. The bridge didn’t get reopened until after 10:00AM and I by the time my relief showed up and I got the shift turnover taken care of it was almost noon. I was supposed to be back at work in 2 1/2 hours, but under the circumstances, I was told I could take the rest of the day off.

14

I had lived in Raleigh for about a month when Fran hit in 1996. I was working for Carolina Power & Light and living in the Hayes Barton district (which was hit very hard - St. Mary’s Street on the NE side of Glenwood), so you can guess how my first few months in Raleigh shaped up. I actually slept through the storm. My father still doesn’t believe me. I woke up the next morning, skipped the shower because I didn’t have any power or water, and went outside to get in my car and go to work. The hundreds of huge oak trees scattered everywhere and the standing water with downed power lines in it dispelled me of that idea. I got water back in a few days and power back in ten. It took them a couple days to clear enough oaks so that we could drive out of the neighborhood. I lived in a big old house that had been made into apartments, so all of us renters pooled our stuff - grill, potatoes, other random ingredients, alcohol - and kept each other company. We also helped people cut the trees off of their gigantic houses. The National Guard patrolled after sundown and we had a curfew, which was very surreal. A few months after that, I met my future husband. We eventually moved to Surfside Beach, SC (just south of Myrtle Beach), and we experienced a few hurricanes there, but we evacuated for the ones that were projected to be big.

The other hurricane that stands out in my mind is Irene, in 1999. I don’t even think it made landfall, but it’s memorable because it came during our wedding, which was held in my parents’ backyard in Swansboro, NC. We had squally rain throughout the day, then it all cleared up in time for us to take our vows and get pictures, with a spectacular sunset as the backdrop. Then, as we were sitting down to dinner - luckily, under a tent - the real rain came. The generator went out. I had one of the groomsmen’s Driza Bone coat on over my dress. The guests broke out into the theme song from Titanic. We had planned to spend the first night of our marriage over on Emerald Isle. We went over there, then got a call in the middle of the night that we were being evacuated. We ended up on the floor of my parents’ living room along with a bunch of our guests. Many of our guests had flown in from overseas and the airport in Jacksonville closed, so that they couldn’t get to their connecting flights in Raleigh. They stayed and helped my dad pull up the planks on his dock (which was newly replaced after Fran floated it away). We served them margaritas and crabs and everyone was happy. They airline finally bussed them over to Raleigh. Irene really just amounted to a big rainstorm, but it was an adventure for us! If we had had a baby girl, we would have used the name.

15

Correction - it was Floyd that floated the dock away.

16

Charley in 2004. I live in Lee County which is where it made landfall. I slept through much of Charley since watching the trees bend in the wind gets old after a while. My roomie and I were at my friends apartment. power went out in the afternoon and we used candles after dark. At midnight, my roomie and I went home and found the power out there, too. So we got to see the stars in the Florida sky for the first time. Then the power came on and we called our friends at their apartment to stay with us until they got power. That turned out to be a week and a half. Charley trashed my county pretty well and even broke one of our islands into two pieces.

In 2005, Wilma hit while my friend and I were in London. It was a problem for us because it almost prevented our return flight to Miami. Then in Miami, everyone was lined up for gas which added several hours to our return to the gulf coast.

17

We got whacked by Wilma a couple of years ago. Left us without power for ten days. It struck in October; the day before “she” arrived, the temperature was in the 90’s! After it passed, our landscape had changed, but that night’s temperatures were in the mid-60’s – delightful! Our neighbors were sitting outside their doors by candle-light, playing a guitar & singing Brazilian songs. Since there were no city lights, the stars were clearly visible. A really nice vibe which made up for the feelings of terror earlier in the day, when we were wondering whether or not the sliding glass doors that make up one of exterior walls would hold or implode. I’d never seen glass bend before … :eek:

18

Hurricane Hugo, 1989. I was in the sleepy town of Eutaw Springs, the closest available lodging to Holly Hill, where I was located. Holly Hill is about 50 miles outside of Charleston—and that night was in the direct line of fire for Hugo.

At the time, there were various reports on where Hugo might make landfall. Most seemed to think it would be in the Charleston area, but some thought it might be Myrtle Beach.

As I remember it, at around 6:00 pm, the first of the rain started in Holly Hill, so our crew headed out to our lodging on Lake Marion in the village of Eutaw Springs.

Around 9:00 pm or so, I noticed the first uptick in the wind, but didn’t think much of it and went on to bed.

“Sometime” later, I was awakened by the incredibly loud noise of the wind. Hugo made landfall around midnight, so this would probably have been around 2:00 am. All the time I’m thinking to myself, “I just hope this motel window holds.”

After listening to the pouding wind for about 20 minutes or so, the wind abated. And I know that one of two things had happened. Either
a) Hugo had skittered by to the north, and we got only a touch of it.
or
b) The eye was passing overhead, and the second half of the storm was yet to come.

A bunch of us staying at the same motel went outside to check out what we could see. However, we had lost power, and we could only see what our flashlight could illuminate. Some broken limbs, but we couldn’t really tell the extent of the damage.

So we were outside for 15-20 minutes, and then. . . we noticed the wind started picking up again. We all knew what that meant, so we hustled back inside and battened down the hatches to ride out the second half of the storm.

When we awoke the next morning, we packed up to travel back to Holly Hill. It was about a ten-mile drive, but it took about two hours to get there. Reason: The crews riding ahead of us had to cut all the fallen trees out of the road.

One thing I realized from the experience that I had previously taken for granted: Being without electricity is problem. But being without running water was really a problem. Not having water available just to even brush your teeth.

Looking back, the big regret I have is the timing: That’s probably the only time in my life (I hope) that I will ever be in the literal eye of the hurricane. I thought it would have been so cool to look up and see blue skies while 100 mph winds are leveling destruction just a few miles away in all directions. However, this all happened in the dead of night.

19

Seriously. The absolute worst thing about hurricanes is pooping and then realizing you can’t flush for 72 hours.

20

First one that I remember making a stir in our household was Hurricane Carla . After that, I was living in the Hill Country and not affected by them. I moved back to Houston in 1979 and since then have experienced a few fun times.

Hurricane Allen 1980. It hit down the coast from us, so we just got some rain and wind. However, my best friend and I were called to do first aid work at a refugee shelter that was established in the newly constructed Fort Bend County jail, so I always say that Hurricane Allen cost me a weekend in jail. :smiley:

Hurricane Alicia 1983. I was living in Angleton at the time and Alicia came straight up what is now highway 288, passing right over my house. Amazingly, we suffered no damage.

Tropical Storm Alison 2001. Almost flooded the house, water stopped about halfway up the yard.

Hurricane Rita 2005. I stayed in the house to do storm duty, and the worst we got was some 40 mph gusts that blew branches in the street.

And in 1988, I was on the island of Kwajalein when it was hit by Tropical Storm Roy. The average elevation of Kwaj is about six feet; you can imagine how much fun that was.