Posted on 10/29/2005 3:12:11 PM PDT by laz
As I jot this down on paper, it is Monday evening, October 24, and Hurricane Wilma is moving over the Atlantic after her morning rampage across South Florida. My power went out shortly before 7 AM as the eastern eyewall approached Miami-Dade, and I'm listening to ABC Channel 10 on my radio. They are reporting that 98% of both Broward and Miami-Dade Counties are without power, and FPL says it could take up to four weeks to restore all power. So I have no idea when anyone else will be able to read these words, but I'm putting them down on paper so I can share them once I have the opportunity.
With her 70 mile-wide eye cutting a vast swath of destruction across South Florida, Wilma has knocked us back to the Stone Age. How ironically appropriate. I'm living in Bedrock now, not Miami. But even in Bedrock, they had more amenities than we seem to have now. The only service that remains intact is the telephone. I wish I had one of those animal-powered contraptions Fred Flintstone had, with some armadillo-like creature running on a wheel like a hamster. I'm so used to typing everything on my computer that writing this out in longhand is strange and even painful, but I need to document what I've experienced over the past several hours since power went out and I lost contact with the outside world.
I will skip over the early morning hours between 3 and 6 AM as Wilma steadily approached, increasing both in speed and intensity, and conditions here in Miami began to deteriorate. I will start at the point where she was making landfall on the western coast of Florida and I lost power. My own location is in Cutler Ridge, about halfway between downtown Miami to the north and Homestead to the south.
Around 7 AM, as Wilma approached Miami-Dade, the winds that had been blowing since 4 AM suddenly began to increase, along with very strong gusts. The sound during this time is something I can only describe as cats screeching and wailing somewhere in the distance. According to Wilma's northeast track, this was the approach and passage of the eastern eyewall. I was in my Florida room for most of this, completely cocooned inside my shuttered house, unable to see what was happening outside. But hearing it was more than enough. From time to time, I put my ear against the door to my back yard, which faces south, and was sickened by the forlorn, wailing noise. It was so disconcerting that I went to my bedroom and lay down in bed and closed my eyes.
The wind and noise continued for two hours, rising in intensity, until they seemed to finally level off. Then, from 9 AM to 9:30 AM, they began to subside, and gusts were fewer and farther between. It was like an engine that was sputtering and dying out. This must have been Wilma's eye. It was a welcome respite, but one that lasted only half an hour.
At 9:30 AM, all hell broke loose. The wind suddenly picked up with ferocious intensity, as if someone had flipped a switch and sent things into overdrive. There was no gradual increase to mirror the gradual decrease thirty minutes earlier. It just suddenly started, all at once. I jumped out of bed and went back to the Florida room. This was the western eyewall, and for the next three hours, I can only describe it as hell on earth. Continuous ferocious wind without any slackening whatsoever, punctuated by extremely violent gusts -- each of which lasted almost full minute before dying off and giving way to the next one. The buffeting was so fierce, it felt as if my house was hurtling down a wind tunnel. The sound was very different too. No high-pitched wailing this time. It was a deep, throaty roar, constant, with very little fluctuation in pitch. And the terrible gusts that could be heard over it sounded like evil spirits were flying around my house and moaning in unison, determined to drive me mad. After the first hour of it, I tried to open my backyard door just a crack to see what was going on, to take a peek at what I was sure was some sort of surreal netherworld, but I couldn't even open the door. It was as if several people stood on the other side, all pushing on it to keep it closed.
Around 11 AM, I got the scare of my life. Along with the roar of the wind and the continuous gusts, I heard a sound I can only describe as a jet plane somewhere nearby. It was faint at first, in the background, then grew louder. I listened intently, but I couldn't determine which direction it was coming from. It seemed to be all around me. For several minutes, I thought a tornado was passing through the area, and I have never felt so helpless in my life. The sound diminished and finally went away, and since I've heard no reports of tornadoes in Miami-Dade, I have absolutely no idea what that sound could have been.
Between noon and 12:30 PM, the wind and noise increased even more, like a symphony building up to a crescendo. The wind rushing past my house seemed like the suction from a giant vaccuum cleaner. Then the fury slowly abated as Wilma's backside moved out of range, as if some huge mothership had pulled away and left me further and further in its wake. By 1:30 PM, the wind had dwindled enough for me to finally venture outside.
The last time I had looked outside had been over twelve hours earlier, and when I had shut and locked the front door, I predicted that the next time I looked outside, I probably wouldn't recognize my street. Now, with Wilma gone, and having spent twelve hours cocooned inside a completely shuttered house, I knew that opening my front door would be like stepping out into a different world. Part of me was anxious to see what had happened, while the rest of me didn't want to see it at all. I braced myself, opened the door, and looked... and the cliche "war zone" was the first thing that popped into my mind. I had seen similar scenes on television, but in those instances it had been someone else's neighborhood somewhere else. Now I was witnessing such a scene in front of me with my own eyes.
Fallen trees were everywhere. Tiles ripped from my roof littered my front lawn and the street. Fences and gates across the street were all down. On the corner, the stop sign lay flat on the ground, the metal pole bent at a ninety degree angle a couple of inches above the ground. All kinds of debris was scattered everywhere. There was no flooding, however, as there had been with Katrina. In fact, the ground was dry. I know it had rained, because I had heard the wind-driven drops strike my shutters like pellets, but apparently it hadn't accumulated at all. As I surveyed the scene, neighbors emerged from their own cocoons and gazed at the unfamiliar landscape, as dazed as I was.
I opened the door to my back yard, the one I hadn't been able to open during the height of the storm, and found more destruction. The huge oak tree that had stood in the middle was completely toppled over, lying across my smashed fence and sticking out into the street. It had fallen to the northeast, its bared roots pointing southwest in the direction Wilma had approached South Florida. Had it fallen to the north, it would have crashed onto the house. Most of the landscaping around the house had been uprooted, each bush also pointing northeast. Only the palm trees had survived, but each was missing at least a frond or two.
There were tiles from my roof all over the backyard as well, so I got out my ladder and climbed onto the roof. At least 75% of the tiles were gone. Thankfully, there was no other damage to the roof. When Katrina hit Miami, she lifted off the southwest corner of my roof, and though I covered it with a small tarp, I didn't have it repaired until a week before Wilma arrived. If I hadn't gotten it fixed, Wilma would have grabbed onto my roof at that spot and torn the whole thing off.
I spent the next couple of hours taking pictures of all the damage, the tiles scattered everywhere, and the fallen oak and crushed fence. Then I cleaned up as much of the debris as possible. Around 4 PM, I went back inside and dropped on the couch to take a nap, certain that the past eighteen hours or so had been a dream, and that when I woke up, things would be the way they had been on October 23. But when I woke up later, no such luck, and I decided to jot down my thoughts while the event was still fresh in my mind. I probably needn't have hurried, though, because I'm sure that weeks and months from now, the experience will still be fresh in my mind.
Update, October 25: When Hurricane Wilma hit the southwest coast of Florida, her winds were 125 mph, making her a strong Category 3. She had a forward speed of about 20 mph, and she was still strengthening as she came in. I'm certain that at some point Monday morning, I experienced Category 4 effects. By the time she left the east coast in Palm Beach County, her winds had dropped to 105 mph, making her Category 2. As I listen to ABC Channel 10 this evening, I've just heard that Wilma is racing away from Florida and over the Atlantic at 37 mph, and that she has regained Category 3 status with winds of 120 mph. What an absolutely unbelievable hurricane. I'll never forget my encounter with her.
Took most of my shutters down today. I found a one-foot long green iguana hiding behind one of them. As for the other creatures that usually inhabit my back yard, I've seen none of them. The small brown lizards that are usually everywhere are gone. The huge toads are nowhere to be found either. Live ones, that is. I came across two dead ones which were as flat as a cardboard cutout. They were actually thinner than my roof tiles. I suppose the intense pressure from the winds must have killed them outright.
On a different note, I'm absolutely flabbergasted that less than 24 hours after Wilma moved out of the area, I'm hearing reports about people already in line at the ice and water distribution centers and condemning FEMA because the ice and water aren't there yet. Do people have any common sense or grasp of reality any more? Do they expect the government to have everything available for them at the snap of their fingers? For almost a week before Wilma arrived, Governor Bush, local authorities, and local media instructed people over and over again to stock up on enough supplies for three days. That's standard practice for all natural disasters. Three days. FEMA's supplies were staged OUTSIDE of the disaster area, and it takes time to get the trucks down into this part of the state. Particularly with power out and roads filled with debris. How dare these people, who obviously didn't bother to buy some water, ice, and canned food at their local Publix last week, show up at distribution centers less than 24 hours after Wilma and start the tired litany of complaints about FEMA? Why didn't they simply stock up for 72 hours, as they were repeatedly advised to do? I did. I have ice, water, and canned food in my house, and I don't even need to go to a distribution center at all. These people are victims of their own apathy and stupidity, a bunch of whining babies who need to grow up, and they have absolutely no one to blame but themselves. I'm sick of hearing people blame everyone else for their own mistakes. And I'm sick of reporters who have created the myth that FEMA is supposed to be on the spot immediately after a disaster strikes. It's always been 72 hours.
Update, October 26: Just heard that Wilma's foward speed has increased to 48 mph and that her winds are up to 125 now. Is she ever going to fall apart, or will she reach Europe like Vince did?
My power was just restored this afternoon! Yabba dabba do! But only because there's a gas station a few blocks away. Gas stations have been a priority for FPL, and restoring power to this particular gas station also restored power to my block. So everyone on my block now has power. No one else in the neighborhood does, though.
Cable service is still out, so I can only view the local stations. Internet is still out as well, so I'm still cut off from the outside world.
Update, October 27: I'm pleased to see NBC Channel 6 stressing the point that people should have stocked up on water, ice, food, and gas BEFORE the storm, instead of immediately showing up at distribution centers and gas stations AFTER the storm. Pointing out yet again the standard practice of stocking up for the first three days. Apparently, that was too much for some people to do, and now they whine and complain. I wonder if such people wait for the government to tuck them into bed every night.
NBC Channel 6 is also pointing out that while the national media has been claiming that there weren't enough supplies staged by local and fed, and that those supplies are running out, the truth is that there are plenty of supplies now. Lots of ice and water, and distribution is running smoothly. Doesn't surprise me that national media is once again lying blatantly to serve their own agenda, but I'm glad to see local media correcting the lie.
President Bush was here in Florida today, in Pompano Beach. The media really needs to get over their childish reactions to everything this man does. If he doesn't visit a disaster area, they say he doesn't care. If he DOES visit, then they say it's just a photo op. It would be funny if it weren't so pathetic. Perhaps Bush should create a clone of himself. That way, one Bush can stay in Washington or Crawford while the other Bush visits a distaster area, and the media's collective head can explode trying to criticize him from both directions at once.
Update, October 28: Most of the neighborhood around me now has power. Cable and internet are still out. Long gas lines along US 1. The local Publix is starting to run out of stuff.
Update, October 29: Hurricane scientists at the University of Miami are saying that Wilma's winds in Miami-Dade County were 85 mph or less. Sorry, but I have to disagree with that vehemently. When Katrina hit Miami-Dade, her winds were 80 mph. Compared to Wilma, Katrina was a big, prolonged thunderstorm. I didn't hear the wind make a single sound during Katrina. There was no noise whatsoever. Not a single one of my roof tiles was torn off by Katrina. Not one tree or street sign was downed by Katrina in my neighborhood. I didn't even put up my shutters for Katrina, and I went outside during the height of the storm. During Wilma, I couldn't even open my door.
Nevertheless, they're saying the damage caused by Wilma in Miami-Dade is the result of microbursts, and that Wilma will probably be downgraded to Cat 1. Give me a break! Is the NHC saying this? Those were no two- or three-second microbursts I heard roaring continuously Monday morning. And winds less than 85 mph did not knock down my huge oak tree or tear off 75% of my roof tiles.
When Wilma made landfall, she was almost a Cat 4, according to NHC. By the time she exited over the Atlantic, she was a Cat 2, and she quickly went back up to Cat 3. And these scientists are now claiming she was a Cat 1 while she crossed Florida? Who the hell are they kidding?
Everyone in South Florida who went through both Katrina and Wilma within the span of the past two months knows there's absolutely no comparison whatsoever between each experience, in any way. And there's no comparison between the damage, either. Small wonder the Miami Herald's response to these scientists is their headline today: A CATEGORY 1 DID THIS? My response, not as a scientist but as someone who sat in his house and listened to the wind for six hours Monday morning, would be a resounding: NO, A CATEGORY 3 DID THIS.
It's Saturday evening, and I just got my cable and internet back. Boy, do I have a lot of catching up to do.
PING
You're BACK!
WooHoo!
Welcome back, we've been worried about you.
WOW, Laz. Excellent post.
I recall posting back and forth to you prior to Wilma and you posted something about "getting the dirty side of the hurricane."
GOOD you're OK. The repairs can be made, but we can't replace you.
While you were gone....the war ended. Hillary Clinton resigned from the Senate to pursue a career as a mud wrestler. Ted Kennedy took up teaching children at the local YMCA how to swim..
Laz, so glad you're alright! That "sound" sure could have been a tornado, even if none were reported. Had two of them pass near us (about 20 years apart), and it sounded like what you describe. What little they've shown of the Wilma damage was mixed--some of it indeed looked like a 2 or 3, and other parts of Florida seemed to fare much better.
Brave of you to go through it. After Betsy, I've vowed to never do that again. I'm pretty much hurricane-phobic.
Good reporting!
Hey, Laz did the hurricane blow you "-amataz" off?
You didn't mention any damage to the claymores or the machine gun emplacements so I guess your defensive perimeter remained unscathed.
nice summary. I am here in Coconut Grove still without power my next door neighbors have power but I am on another grid.
Going to Montys tonight for dinner. Good luck down there.
God Bless
Cool. Can't wait to read this. Thanks.
Welcome back from Wilma AND your most recent restriction.
Nam Vet
Thank God you are safe and sound, sir.
Irony would lose a champion if you were gone.
I would lose a Freeper friend.
Thanks for allowing us a sense of what it was like.
Without actually going through it....
Good to see you back!
Good post!
Thanks for sharing your account.
What troubles me more and more is this utter dependence on FEMA or someone else to provide for them. For example,as you noted, water! Why didn't people stock up? Could it be because they knew Mom and Dad, (Uncle Sam) would provide it for "free"? So why bother? This is NOT a good sign. It's one thing when EVERYTHING is destroyed but these folks seem to see this as Santa Claus time.
Thanks for posting this - save for later.
Glad you got through this!
Welcome back.
Great read. We're so glad you're okay! I've been thinking of you all week, off and on. Every time something was breaking in the news, I wondered if you were going thru FRetox like I did a few weeks ago. :-)
Seriesly, going with electricity made me feel like I was living in the 1800s or something. Did you get to know your neighbors better?
Let me know if there is anything we can do to assist.
Glad you are safe and sound. My sister and her family are still without power in the Bayview Area of Ft. Lauderdale. She will be jealous. The water is running but the boil order is still out. Most important though, everyone is safe and healthy.
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