September 12, 2008
Hurricane Ike (NW Houston, 11:30 AM)
If this thing does what they're saying it will, anyone staying on Galveston Island is likely to drown. They're not kidding. I've never seen an official notice like this one, and neither has anyone else:
The latest Hurricane Local Statement from the Galveston National Weather Service office puts things in pretty stark perspective:
All neighborhoods... and possibly entire coastal communities... will be inundated during high tide. Persons not heeding evacuation orders in single family one or two story homes will face certain death. Many residences of average construction directly on the coast will be destroyed. Widespread and devastating personal property damage is likely elsewhere. Vehicles left behind will likely be swept away. Numerous roads will be swamped... some may be washed away by the water. Entire flood prone coastal communities will be cutoff. Water levels may exceed 9 feet for more than a mile inland. Coastal residents in multi-story facilities risk being cutoff. Conditions will be worsened by battering waves. Such waves will exacerbate property damage... with massive destruction of homes... including those of block construction. Damage from beach erosion could take years to repair."
Source: http://www.wunderground.com/blog/JeffMasters/comment.html?entrynum=1081&tstamp=200809
This is NOT a risk for me and mine - we are way far from the evacuation zones and any risk of this kind of flooding. But spare a prayer for those who refuse to heed the evacuation warnings if (when) Galveston Island finds itself under water. They might get lucky, in which case they're almost certain to face death next time - because they'll point to this and say, "See? You cried wolf during Rita, you cried wolf during Ike, and what happened? NOTHING." But as one commenter pointed out, we could make Cuba and Haiti look good by tomorrow.
Failure to heed a mandatory evacuation means you're on your own - nobody is going to come help you, period, until this thing's over, and even then, only if it's safe. You don't get to put our first responders' lives at risk just because you're determined to exercise your Constitutional right to act like a stubborn old fool.
You can see what our max sustained winds are supposed to be, by neighborhood, here: http://www.houstonhidefromthewind.org/index.php
Click here and you'll know if CERT has been activated or volunteers requested: http://www.harriscountycitizencorps.com/information.asp
I am really hoping this pine tree can withstand whatever Ike dishes out. Much as I'd like a skylight in the family room or the master bedroom, this really isn't how I'd like to get it!This is the same tree that lost a huge branch during Rita - a branch that had to be professionally removed from the branches it was hanging on so that it wouldn't fall on some poor unsuspecting bystander's head. It's a healthy, well-cared-for tree, though, and adds a bit of shade and interest to the back yard. I'd hate to lose it.
Of course, losing it would be better than finding it next to the bed tomorrow morning. ;)
(Photo taken on 9/12/08, 10:15 AM CDT)
Hurricane Ike (NW Houston, 1:00 PM)
"We asked them to write their Social Security numbers on their arms for us."
-- Police Chief Randy Smith, talking about evacuation hold-outs in Surfside Beach, TX, where the water is already topping mailboxes.
If that doesn't drive the point home, nothing will. My neighbors are getting prepared, cutting and nailing up plywood. I just hope they haven't gotten too complacent and left anything out in their yards to fly through my unboarded windows tonight!
It looks like J.J. will have to work through the night. I could have predicted this yesterday (there's my sense of Hurricane Rita déjà vu), but hope springs eternal.
I'm as ready as I'll ever be. I looked around earlier and thought, "I really should clean up some of this clutter." That thought was immediately followed by, "Why? If a tornado hits, it'll get scattered across three counties no matter how neat you make it now, and if it doesn't - why bother?"
I had to concede that the lazy side of my brain had a point.
Am I ready for a hurricane? Bet your bippy I am. I have an envelope of Pat O'Brien's Hurricane mix and a half bottle of 151 to wash down a lifetime supply of Pop-Tarts. That, and five cases of bottled water, canned meats, fruits, pasta, pasta sauce, frozen fruits and veggies, lots of ice, a five-day cooler - yeah, I joke, but I'm prepared.
I just upgraded my trial version of Sony Vegas Movie Studio 9.0 so that I could edit weather video until the power goes out or the storm forces me to stay indoors. I am still fascinated by these "bands" that swirl overhead, alternating between gray and menacing and sunny with blue skies. It's just...weird. I'm beginning to understand why animals behave strangely in advance of a hurricane. I have a slight headache an itchy sort of restlessness in anticipation of being cooped up here for hours while the wind howls outside. The whine of my neighbor's saw is becoming a real irritation as it hints at things to come.
Hurricane Ike (NW Houston, 3:00 PM)
Just a small reminder that the sun is, in fact, still out there.
Latest max. sustained wind speed projections for my neighborhood, courtesy of http://www.houstonhidefromthewind.org/, are 85 mph. Of course, my dad put that into perspective for me, yesterday. "You've driven down the Interstate at 85-90 miles an hour, right?"
"Yeah..." Well, where do you think I inherited the lead in my toes, anyway? There's no point in lying to the man.
"That's 85-90 mph winds, right there. Did anything happen to the car?"
"No." The bugs on the windshield didn't fare too well, though.
"Nothing's going to happen to the windows, or the house."
"Unless a stop sign goes flying through one of the windows."
"Or a neighbor's trash can. You know, our trash can never moved during Gustav." There was a momentary pause. "We did have a couple of big trees fall down, though."
Well, gee, Dad - thanks for that happy thought.
Hurricane Ike (NW Houston, 5:00 PM)
Hurricane Ike, as seen from the International Space Station:
Some who had thought they would stick it out instead made a last-minute exit from Galveston. The city was hit by a hurricane in 1900 that was the deadliest weather disaster in U.S. history, with a death toll of at least 8,000.
"The water got to coming over the sea wall, we were scared," said Charlotte Pines, who was fuelling up an SUV filled with relatives. "It's going to be bad."
Source
Just to put it in perspective for those who have never been to the Gulf Coast and don't really understand the significance of waves crashing over the seawall, the following video was uploaded over four hours ago to YouTube:
Now, compare that to our visit to Galveston Island during Labor Day weekend, just before Gustav was due to land in Louisiana. These stairs lead down to the beach from the seawall:
I was sitting on a bench atop the seawall when I shot the following video of the seawall, Flagship Pier, and beach:
I'm tempted to start singing, "Where Have All the Flowers Gone?"
They have already announced that there will be no emergency services response in Galveston after 9 PM tonight. I haven't seen an update on the poor folks stranded out there on the freighter, but spare a prayer for them if you can.
Although Ike is weaker than 2005's Hurricane Katrina, the last storm to pummel a U.S. urban area and a major disaster, its large scope gives it more water-moving power.
Source
Keep an eye on Jeff Masters' blog for updates, if you like detailed (if somewhat frightening) information and meteorological predictions.
Hurricane Ike (NW Houston, 6:00 PM)
Galveston just can't catch a break this weekend:
GALVESTON, TX -- A Galveston boat and yacht repair warehouse has been destroyed by flames because the streets were too flooded by Hurricane Ike for fire trucks to reach it.
Source
Winds are picking up significantly here. I'm going to go fix dinner before we risk losing power. I'll be back in a bit.
Hurricane Ike (NW Houston, 8:30 PM)
Sunset at the edge of Hurricane Ike:
Galveston Island has gone dark.
"Aftermath" is the New "Paradigm"
In the aftermath of Hurricane Ike...
Did we not get enough "aftermath" with Hurricane Katrina, back in 2005? Isn't three years time enough to invent a whole new word?? The word "aftermath," a perfectly good word four years ago, now sounds like such a cliché.
Anyway, just before midnight, someone in the media made the remark that they'd joked about taking a shot of caffeine every time someone spoke the words "hunker down." They were going to show photos of "hunkering down." I thought it might be fun to take one of William and me, "hunkering down" before the storm:
Hey, Cy-Fair CERT members - see the phone tree? The CERT bag was on the counter, right behind it!
We've got our tub full of water for flushing, our sleeping bags, extra blankets, lots of bottled water, Gatorade, fully-charged Nintendo DS, cell phone, laptop, first-aid supplies, etc. We're set!
About ten minutes later, just as I hit "Submit" on the first comment of the Trockle Blog Book Tour, the power went down hard. And came up, only to crash loudly again - twice. My UPS system, upstairs, began an incessant beeping that continued, on and off, until the battery backup died. (I tried to kill it, but it wouldn't die until it ran out of juice.) In utter boredom, we went to sleep. I reminded William that he might want to save a little battery life in his video game for the next day, when we'd be without power and have nowhere to go.
Around 5:21 AM, the wind picked up. Things hit the side of the house with a sharp crack, like rocks against concrete. There was a low rumbling. I wondered, "Is this the 'freight train' sound of a tornado?" It didn't seem loud enough. The ground vibrated. It felt like a small earthquake - nothing alarming, just a humming vibration. It stopped. 1...2... It started again. Only a few seconds. I sent a text message to my husband, who was working through the storm at the hotel. I forwarded it to friends. I told them that the worst of it had finally reached us, but we were okay. I hoped that would still be true in a few hours. Like an idiot, I left our little "shelter" in the master bathroom and made the rounds. My father in law was sleeping soundly, comfortably. No windows broken. The "Killer Pine" was standing tall, swaying slightly in the wind. I couldn't see much through the rain falling on the windowpanes. Even what I could hear was not as scary as I'd expected - I'd expected to hear the wind howling like a banshee as it assaulted the house and the trees. It was just wind and rain.
But what a wind...
I wish I'd had an anemometer. This is what I woke up to:
Later, we laughed with our "new" neighbors in these townhomes; this is the kind of neighborhood I grew up in, one with no fences. I think we all felt a small twinge of reluctance at the thought of rebuilding. While it may be true that "good fences make good neighbors," I think it's also true that too many fences lead to isolation. Everyone I talked to Saturday and Sunday agreed that disasters have one good consequence - we all talk to each other, we all express concern for our neighbors' well-being. Two doors down, our neighbors had a generator and were kind enough to offer to charge everyone's cell phones. We were able to charge ours in the car, but they generously allowed William to charge his Nintendo DS.
I walked the length of our street, checking to be sure everyone was okay. I stopped to talk for a while with Wil, a kind, older man who lives alone, whose biggest problem was loneliness and boredom. Sunday, William went down there with his magnetic Chess and Checkers set, and challenged him to a couple of games. We got his cell phone charged for him, too, so that he could call his friends and relatives.
One house was pelted with oranges and grapefruit during the storm. A couple of homes had trees resting across their roofs, but the roof damage looked minimal. All in all, we were lucky. And as of about noon today, our power was restored.
Traffic lights are still out all over town. It's not safe to drive, especially after dark. Katie stayed with a friend. I texted her today and reminded her not to try to come home after dark. "Curfew is 9 PM," I wrote. "Not MY rules, this time, but the State's, for once." (We'd argued, when she was younger, that the State curfew for minors was midnight. Ours was more restrictive.) I got this reply: "LOL - I know about the curfew. Now all of Houston knows my struggle!"
Funny kid.
College classes - for her - resume Wednesday. William's out until Thursday, at least. I'm in no rush - supplies are still hard to come by, lines for gas are unbelievable, and it's not safe to be on the roads if you don't have to be. It's a matter of priorities. I mean, I was glad to go to work this morning - my fingers were twitching from lack of Internet, and I craved a little air conditioning. But part of me feels it's terribly irresponsible to be out driving at all, unless there's a critical NEED to do so. Ironically, if I'd had power this morning, I'd have been all set to work from home. I may do that tomorrow.
My husband deserves major props for getting up before dawn this morning to cook us a hot breakfast - coffee and biscuits cooked on a two-burner camp stove. He took today off, having worked around the clock during the hurricane.
This is the sunrise that greeted us this morning.
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