Back from the Twilight Zone

I've been writing this post since just after Irma hit Naples, but without power, water, and any hint of a cell signal, I haven't been able to get online to post. So, I'll try to make this as coherent and orderly as possible.

Monday, September 12, 2017: 

Well, we survived a direct hit from Hurricane Irma. Sadly, our two story pool screen and a few of our trees weren't so lucky. 

As of this writing (offline, on my laptop), we have no Internet, no power, and no running water. We take turns charging phones and laptops in the Tesla. Oh yeah, we also have no phone service, and no cell phone service. The signal went out shortly after the really strong winds began. 

Mother Nature is certainly not one to be trifled with. The wind was unbelievably strong. As the eye wall crept over us, I would remark, “That’s the strongest wind we’ve seen yet.”

And then five minutes later, I’d say the same thing. Just when you think the wind speed had topped out, Mother Nature would just slam down on the gas pedal to prove you wrong. 

For the most part, I sat by the window, watching in awe, and videoing. I got one video up one YouTube before the Internet went out and the strong part of the storm arrived.

At noon, the winds were starting to pick up, so I decided to cook the chicken that was in the freezer, anticipating a power outage as the storm grew closer. I was really looking forward to some yummy teriyaki chicken and rice. 

Well, I didn’t get very far, because the power went out at 12:02 pm. Lol. 

So, I went back to the windows upstairs to film. I wanted to document the experience for my kids, and future generations. James and Joe didn’t like to look outside, but I was fascinated. The tree limbs I thought would fly off, didn’t, and some of the really strong ones I thought would hold, snapped like twigs and went flying. Trying to predict which structures or trees would stand and which ones would fall was impossible. Hidden weaknesses can be found in the most formidable-appearing foes. And silent strengths found in the most vulnerable-seeming statures.

When the screens started blowing out in the pool area, I thought we were seeing the strongest aspect of the storm. Lololol, it wasn't even close to how hard the winds would later blow. But screen netting blowing out is supposed to be a good thing, because then the air will flow through without much resistance. 

But Irma was stronger than that, and the gusts grew ever more fierce. Irma was beginning to look like she’d live up to the meaning of her name, “War Goddess.”

My inner peace contrasted with the chaos outside. The house was very sturdy. It didn't even shudder, not even when vehemently buffeted by the strongest gale. I just moved between my two watching spots upstairs. 

In the master bedroom viewing area, I heard a creak or two…then noticed the palm trees and palm shrubs start to drift up, slowly. It was weird, like watching a bird’s feathers drift up in the breeze. 

I knew something was different right then, and I said, “I think a tornado is coming down.” 

I started to back away from the window, and then to stand up, while still filming. All of a sudden, with a shriek of metal, the screen just went over. I shouted, "There it went! We have to go DOWN." That was the loudest I got during the storm. I shouted for James and Joe to get downstairs. Joe already was, and when James and I went downstairs, the "danger" had passed. After watching the video, I don't think a tornado touched down at that moment. It appears that there was an uplifting of the wind just prior to the strong gust that blew the screen down, but no tornado. You can watch it here. 

We thought we'd just experienced the strongest part of the storm. Lol. We were wrong.

For about ten minutes or so, the gusts let up a little. It reminded me of a bully pounding on a little kid until they cried before retreating. 

I ran downstairs to charge my phone up in the car. By the time I got back up, the rest of the screen had come down. I was upset that I didn’t get that moment on film.

But I filmed some unbelievably strong gusts that stripped our palms of fronds. James has a couple videos of the strongest part--and one of me running out back during that time. I ran outside, disturbing a bunny taking refuge by the pool pump. I apologized and told him to go back to safety. 

Then I ran out a little ways, turned toward the upstairs window where James was videoing, gave a quick peace sign, then turned toward the lake and experienced the turbulent wind shoving me from behind. Then I ran back inside. 

Once the winds began to shift direction, we walked downstairs to see how the front was faring. The street was flooded. A couple huge, very heavy (110 pounds +) planters, about a hundred or so pounds each, had toppled over and rolled all around. One of them wedged under James’s car. We didn’t think they would move since they were so heavy.

When the surge started to occur around 6:00 pm, the water on our street was about 8” deep, and about 3-6” at the bottom of our driveway. 

Although the winds were still raging, we saw a couple guys walk out from the home across the street. One guy picked up a piece of plywood that fell off his window, and I saw that he was about to make a big mistake. “I yelled “Don’t do that!” but of course he couldn’t hear me. Holding the plywood behind his back like he was giving it a piggyback ride, he turned so the wind blasted against the plywood, and he was blown flat on his back. He was a big guy, so he got back up and a couple more guys came outside (probably laughing) and started wading in the street. 

After seeing they didn’t get electrocuted, Joe wanted to walk in the water, so I took him outside and we walked in the water that was covered our street. After a minute or two, James came out too and took some video. 

Then we watched the guys get some galoshes on and start clearing the storm drains. After about thirty minutes, they’d cleared enough so that the water quickly drained off the street. 

This morning, we cleaned most of the debris--palm fronds, mostly-- from the yard. We're going for a walk now to check out the damage in our neighborhood and look for any sign of power trucks. 

We just got back, and trees are down everywhere. Most of the people in our neighborhood stayed, and a few have generators. We met a lot of nice people. One of the guys with a generator says that FPL is working on getting power back on, but the water and sewer treatment plant was hit pretty hard, so water and sewer may not be around for a while. 

We have brief few second intervals of one bar cell signal, and I keep getting texts from family and friends. They’re worried because I can’t get a text back out to tell them we’re okay…

That was probably the worst part of the storm--not being able to let friends and family know we were safe.

The whole event was filled with uncertainty, because we had no way of knowing exactly where the storm was, and what part of the storm we were experiencing at any time. We had no signal for anything, and no way to connect with the outside world. So, the storm raged on for hours, and we waited and waited for an eye that never came. At one point, I noticed that the winds sort of died down, and I thought we might be experiencing the outer edge of the eye, but later I heard we never saw the eye--it was just one constant, powerful eye wall--for hours.

It reminded me of what a weatherman had said prior to the storm. He related a story about Hurricane Donna in 1960. He said that the people hunkering down to ride out the hurricane noticed an abrupt "end" to the storm--the winds calmed, and the sun came out. There was no power, so they didn't know they were actually in the eye, and still had another round with the fighter in the ring. They were out cleaning up debris when the second part of the storm raged in like hounds of hell unleashed by a vengeful god.

Anyway, we kept trying to connect to the Internet to see where the storm was, and how much longer it would last, because by 5:00, after three solid hours of storm, we noticed the street was really flooding.

The raw, unbridled power of that immense storm is something that’s burned into my memory forever, and, for me, it’s not a bad memory. It was an experience like no other, and I saw it with my own eyes, first hand. There's something about staring danger calmly in the eye and coming out stronger on the other end. 

Here's what Irma did to nearly everyone's basketball hoop, including ours:

So, I sorta regret calling Irma a witch. She was more like a creature of destiny. I'm sure she was a medium for the call to adventure for some, and maybe an impetus of threshold moments for others. I know it was for me, and the thoughts I had during the storm are hard to put into words.

I wonder why something like this has to happen for humans to get out and meet their neighbors. Why does it take a catastrophe to push us out of our comfort zone and learn our neighbor's name? Regardless, that's what has happened, and I'm witnessing a community coming together and becoming more than neighbors—they're becoming friends.

Tuesday, September 12: The heat in the house was miserable, and many of our friends and family still hadn't received word from us and were worried. We'd cleaned up as much as we could, and ended up throwing away everything in our refrigerator and freezer. We needed to make telephone calls and get some insurance balls rolling. With no idea when power would be restored or when cell service would resume, Joe and I headed south on I 75 and found a hotel room in Ft Lauderdale. We spent the evening catching up with friends and relatives.

James texted around 9:00 pm that power was back on (thank God!) but cell service was still out. 

So, we will probably stay in the hotel tonight, and head back tomorrow. I need to make contact with some eBay buyers to assure them their items will be on the way in the next couple days. I also need to re-list several items and answer questions from buyers on other items. And then, the insurance calls. 

Anyway, my heart goes out to all those more seriously impacted by the storm than we were. I didn't use my safety whistle at all, except to test it beforehand. Man, that sucker is loud. It's one of those survival ones for hikers, and maybe Irma heard it and responded to it's call by heading our way. Maybe that whistle was her call to adventure. 

Who knows? Nature does what she pleases, and she doesn't care who or what lay in her path. It's best not to tempt her.