Two months after moving from Texas to Florida, we experienced our first hurricane. Oddly enough, we'd selected central Florida, away from the coasts, just to avoid hurricanes.
When the media began hyping Hurricane Charlie, we patterned our behavior on our neighbors. They said all our area ever received was heavy rain and wind from the edges of the storm. By the time the hurricane crossed to the middle of the state, it would lose steam and merely be a tropical storm. It had been over forty years since a hurricane had reached this part of Florida.
Still we needed to fill the bathtub with water, bring in the patio furniture and grill, and have jugs of drinking water ready. That seemed easy enough. We'd experienced power outages elsewhere, so ho-hum.
Friday, August 13 2004, at 4:30 pm I noted in my journal:
"Current forecast is for a category 4 hurricane (145 mph winds). It is expected to hit south of Tampa and take dead aim for Orlando. They think it will still have 100 mph winds by the time it reaches us. The first band of wind and rain came through at 2 pm with continuous thunder and warnings of tornado activity.
Now at 4:30 pm we're in a respite, waiting for the next wave and then it should be steady rain/wind/whatever after that. Sounds like 7 to 11 pm will be the dangerous time.
We have to sit tight, be ready to get in the closet if tornadoes develop. No basements in Florida. Hopefully it will move through quickly so we'll have less chance of flooding.
The rain is starting up again just now.
We have our battery powered radio, extra batteries, plenty of water, flashlights and stocks of food. Our motor home is vulnerable in its storage lot surrounded by trees, but it's too late to move it from there."
The wind became continuous and water buffeted the house and windows. Darkness started to set in. The power went out, so no lights and no television updates on the storm. The small radio wasn't very informative and we felt cut off and on-our-own.
Our double front doors threatened to give way before the strong winds. I leaned all my weight against one and my husband held the other closed. Even so, they kept pushing inward under the force of the wind and it was taking all our strength to keep them from bursting open.
It was frightening to think of the horrendous wind and rain rampaging inside our house. Through the glass section of the door, we could see the flashes of lightning outside. At one point, my husband noted that the tree out front had fallen. There was a brief easing of the wind, which we assumed was the eye of the hurricane passing. Again the winds flung themselves at the house. With the next flash of lightning, we saw the young tree laying in the opposite direction, indicating the wind shift.
Luckily Hurricane Charlie moved through quickly, as we couldn't hold the doors against the wind for very long. The 40 to 45 minutes spent desperately leaning our bodies against the doors made the storm feel like a personal attack. Before that it was scary but the sturdy walls of our house had given us a false sense of security with the storm outside and us inside.
Neighbors appeared with flashlights in the street. "Are you okay?" we asked each other. Heavy concrete roof tiles littered the lawns and our patio screen was tangled in the bushes of our neighbor's house. Shaken by the event, we reassured each other that we were physically safe and our houses had held together. As the next rain band pelted us, we retreated again into our dark houses.
Knowing that the worst was past, we tried uneasily to sleep. No air conditioning and continuing wind and rain made sleep almost impossible.
Saturday, August 14 – In the light of day, we surveyed the damage. All six of our young trees had been pulled out of the ground by the winds. We went to check on the motor home. Deprived of television updates by the power outage, we were blithely unaware that authorities wanted residents off the roads. Getting out of the community felt like driving a slalom course, weaving from lane to lane avoiding trees in the street. The motor home was undamaged, but we saw quite a few crumpled under fallen trees. We drove ours home and ran a power cord to our refrigerator from its generator. Not knowing how long the power outage would be or how long our gasoline would last, we only ran it intermittently for an hour or so, then off for 3 or 4 hours. Hopefully it would keep the food cooled to a safe level.
Three times during the day hard rain swept through the already sodden community. These outer rain bands reminded us that the hurricane stretched over a wide area.
Without power, there were no hot showers, no stove and microwave, no air conditioning, no lights, no television, no computer. Without news, we wondered if the water system had been compromised. We drank our bottled water and avoided the water from the faucet. It felt like we were camping out in our own house. At least while the motor home’s generator ran briefly, we could heat water for coffee. My husband moved the grille back to the patio and cooked our food on it under the roof.
The cell phones weren’t working and later we heard that the towers were down. The wireless phones didn’t work, but we had one old-fashioned phone that we plugged in.
Surveying the neighborhood, we found the hurricane ripped apart about 70% of the large screen rooms. These comfortable outdoor living spaces were disasters with tangles of aluminum beams jutting in all directions. The owners faced costs of $10,000 to $20,000 to replace them. We felt so lucky that ours was still on the drawing board.
Sunday, August 15 – We ran the generator from 8 am until noon, and then ran it again at 3:30. The hotdogs stayed frozen, so I used that as an indicator that the meat was still safe. Since the neighbors were without even a generator, we put on a pot of coffee and posted a sign on the motor home saying “Come over for coffee.” Several people brought their cell phones over to charge up and a neighbor brought his battery powered saw to recharge. He was trying to cut through the debris of his former screen room.
The Orlando Sentinel on our doorstep seemed like a lifeline. Who knew when things would return to normal, but at least we had some information. It listed areas where you had to boil water, and thankfully, ours was not on the list. We pored over the stories telling of damages and of utility crews working to restore power and to clear fallen trees. There were heart-rending stories of people with ruined homes. Again we realized how lucky we were. Sure we were taking cold showers since there was no electricity to heat the water. At least we had water and with the steamy heat, a cold shower didn’t sound so bad.
Without air conditioners and lights, people were coming out of their houses and standing around the street talking to the neighbors. Rehashing the events of the hurricane and exchanging any bits of news resulted in a bonding effect in this new neighborhood. We were no longer strangers, but survivors of a shared experience that forced us to rely on each other. Sustained winds for Hurricane Charlie were 100 to 105 mph when the eye crossed just 10 miles from us. Gusts and micro-bursts made it even worse, but we still fared better than the coast where winds were 145 mph.
We held a neighborhood cookout in our driveway with everyone bringing the thawed food from their freezers. Before long, it would have to be thrown out. The cookout was short on side dishes, but everyone filled up on steak, burgers, brats and shrimp scampi cooked on two grilles. Finally the mosquitoes drove everyone back into their houses.
Monday, August 16 – We sat in the driveway on lawn chairs sharing coffee and chatting with neighbors. Joanne and Flo came by and we planned another cookout with the remaining food for that evening.
A Proscape truck pulled into the neighborhood and workers started replanting the trees. It took them all day to restore the trees for the thirteen houses on our street. We cooked some of the remaining hot dogs and hamburgers for them at noon. We moved the golf cart out of the garage so they could sit in the shade. Earlier a volunteer had come by with bags of ice to distribute. When she heard about fixing lunch for the workers, she brought over some minute steaks to cook for them. We still had sodas, water and chips. Although most of them only spoke Spanish, one was designated to tell us, “It is good.”
In the middle of serving lunch, the power came back on. That ended the worry about how long we would suffer the stifling heat and lack of services.
That evening Carl, Flo and Mike helped us eat the BBQ chicken and the lasagna saved from a neighbor’s freezer. Heating it in the microwave seemed so easy after days of cooking on a grill. We sat in air-conditioned comfort, eating at the table with electric lights shining down on us. What a relief to return to a fairly normal existence.
Issues still remained that would keep the hurricane fresh in our minds for some time. Closed stores with damage or no power, grocery shelves with no bread, no frozen foods, no milk, and no gas at gas stations were some immediate problems. Repairs ($4000 to our house), insurance coverage, and seeing trees and roofing and soggy furniture piled by the roadside waiting for pick up would take months to resolve. We felt exhausted by the adventures and uncertainty of the past few days. (Our cable TV and internet service weren’t restored for three weeks as the service people dealt with more urgent cases.)
Tuesday, August 17 – Many street lights were out or knocked down, so police directed traffic is some spots. Other intersections were just free-for-alls. Driving to the store we saw buildings without roofs, blue tarps on roofs, many homes with large trees toppled against them and most of the commercial signs were down. Some roads were flooded. That made it hard to find our way around. It was strange to see the empty shelves in the supermarket and the freezer cases empty where everything had to be thrown out after the power outage.
The Home Depot parking lot was full as people loaded big boxes containing generators into their cars. Many bought chain saws and crates of bottled water. Although our power was restored, some sections didn’t get electricity back for almost two weeks. Again we realized how fortunate we were to have such minimal damage.
Two weeks later, Hurricane Frances hit central Florida. Then in late September, Hurricane Jeanne struck the same area. What an initiation we had to our newly adopted state!