Bracing for Impact: The Familiar Dance Before the Storm
Hurricane Ida arrived August 29, 2021. That’s sixteen years to the day after Katrina. An eerie coincidence to folks elsewhere, but I live on the Gulf Coast and trust me it’s a pattern. Katrina (2005) and Gustav (2008), plus a list of others between and after, were Labor Day storms. So, I keep the weekend circled in red on my mental/emotional calendar. And cross my fingers, at the start of each hurricane season, that we can slide by the date. If that ever works, this year it didn’t.
Hunkering Down: Riding Out Hurricane Ida’s Fury
Ida was big, topping off the Saffir-Simpson Scale at Category 4, with sustained winds at least 180 mph. Some friends who grew up here insist it was an even stronger Cat 5. While my husband lived, and for a while after, I’d go inland to my mother-in-law’s. But circumstances changed and took away that option. And I didn’t relish getting on gridlocked roads without a definite destination. So, by default I hunkered down with my two cats. Not well prepared, no way to board up windows, but with an external charger for my phone, I could watch the track and text with family and friends. Though the storm kept shifting east, it never zeroed in on my area. And I thought we’d probably be okay enough.
Surveying the Aftermath: Morning After Hurricane Ida
Hurricanes have timelines—before, during, and after. Before can turn frantic, a kaleidoscope of traffic seeming to come from every direction, with adrenaline pumping as folks rush around picking up supplies. I did top off my car’s gas tank. With long lines extending along the sides of roads, I tried a couple stations and had to pay premium price. Gouging starting already (?), but worth it if I had to make a quick exit, since pumps won’t work once the power goes. During is just sitting and waiting for the storm to pass. Electricity went out mid-afternoon, amid warnings of possible tornadoes, and that left us sweating and then near sightless in the dark, as day turned to night without streetlights. Grateful for good flashlights, I fell into a mix of sensory deprivation and a sound collage of winds swirling and whistling, interspersed with the crashing of unidentified objects blown away or knocked down. Too dark, the few times I tried to peek out, to see what was happening.
From Darkness to Light: The Journey Back to Normalcy
After comes the following morning when we crawl out to assess damages. The high winds hit roofs and trees hard. I got lucky: a swath of shingles ripped from my roof, the backyard shed, and parts of the fence knocked down. Other folks had it much worse. No electric yet, but we’re used to going without for a while after. Then we got even worse news: the whole electric grid was wrecked and needed a complete rebuild that could take a month or longer. Thrown into primitive survival mode, we had no “modern conveniences”—lights, air conditioning, refrigerators, TV, internet. Nothing else to do and nowhere to go, folks sweated picking up debris from our yards but couldn’t wash or dry clothes. Water safety was questionable; can’t run treatment plants without electric either. I drank bottled just in case, but still assumed I could take showers to cool off some, till my upper arms turned pebbly. Good thing I put off washing my hair. The upside was the feeling of community, with folks helping each other. Restaurants and church groups offered free meals. I loved the way Ring Doorbell messages homed in on shortages of gas, ice, and food, identifying and mapping sources, then segued into tracking where power was coming back as it did. When a few stores came back, I got into the spirit and bought and gave neighbors DampRid to help combat mildew and mold.
With heavy political arm twisting and multiple crews working, restoration moved much quicker than originally projected. Even so, my neighborhood still went powerless for close to two weeks. Halfway through, a friend decided I’d had enough and made me a reservation at a pet-friendly hotel farther inland. I did still have that full tank of gas, the roads wouldn’t be as clogged and now, I had a definite destination.