Here She Comes! Run!!!

It was August 30th when Hurricane Irma formed far away in the Atlantic near Cape Verde, off the coast of Africa. It’s hurricane season. When those “x’s” show up on NOAA’s National hurricane map, I pay attention. The advantage of a hurricane over a tornado is the warning. Tornados offer little. Hurricanes you can see coming, so when it became obvious that Irma was intent on hunting Floridians, we began the process of getting out of her way.

We had a plan and a checklist, and had always said, that if it was a Category 4 or 5 we would leave, but that was before real life dumps ingredients into the best laid plans. Mariah, our daughter was pregnant, and not just pregnant, past due so there would be no running, at least not for her or her husband, and there was no way I was leaving them behind.

Mariah was to be induced on Tuesday, September 5th, but with the storm looming the hospital was saving beds for those that were in active labor. Tuesday became Wednesday, and Wednesday became Thursday. The clock was ticking! Irma was expected on Sunday, September 10th. I figured that if the baby came by Thursday, maybe we would be able to make a run for it on Saturday. But that isn’t what happened.

Kim and I knew we couldn’t stay in our home. We live in Naples, in Zone A, the hot zone for storm surge, and in a mobile home. I felt both glad and guilty that we only rent this old home. We quickly removed everything from the lanai that wasn’t nailed down, stacking it in the Florida room, which was only slightly more secure than the lanai, and piling things we absolutely wanted to save inside the house. Gas was already in short supply, as was water, and we were days before we’d see landfall here in Florida. Store shelves were sparse and we handed the last roll of duct tape to another shopper who needed it more than we did. We packed our suitcase, loaded two boxes with non-perishable food, and important papers, added three cases of water and one of Gatorade to the backseat, made room for Mariah’s dog that we were babysitting, along with our cat. We knew it was likely we wouldn’t have a home to come back to, so we took one last look around, knowing it could very well be the last time we would see our things. None of it mattered, but the photographs, those were hard to place into plastic tubs and walk away from. Locking the door, we were now running, at least as far as Ft. Myers, 50 miles up the road. The plan was to hunker down in Mariah and Dusty’s house and ride it out.

Mariah was finally induced on Thursday, but it wasn’t working. Something was wrong, and by Friday, September 8th, the decision was made that a c-section was necessary. Turns out our little Aurora was playing jump rope with her umbilical cord and had it tangled all around her neck and leg. In the end everyone was safe and healthy and we were blessed, but a c-section meant there would be no running. Not for them.

For awhile it was a bit like playing dodge ball. Would Irma hit Miami and travel up the east coast, or turn west and hit Naples? Friday, September 8th her path became clear. West is was. Our son, Ben, and his family live in Melbourne, on the east coast of the peninsula. They had originally planned to get out, but with everyone trying to escape, it became difficult to find a place to go, and with fuel in short supply, no guarantee you could get there. Instead, they would ride it out with us in Ft. Myers. That was until Irma made the turn! It was too late to run, but they made the decision to stay in Melbourne and Ben called, begging Kim and I to leave Ft. Myers to come to them. He didn’t know if we’d be safe at Mariah’s home. They are in Zone B for storm surge, but they are close to canals, fed by the Caloosahatchee River. That was a concern. Visions of Houston filled my head, and we brought our kayak and life jackets in case they were needed. It was essential to make a decision and soon!

Kim and I waited in the hospital to see our first granddaughter. The excitement of such an event should not be clouded with anxiety about the fury of Mother Nature. We paced as all waiting grandparents do, but we also kept an eye on the enormous windows that belied the tale that was to come. It looked so beautiful, with just a gentle breeze. It was easy to pretend all was right in the world. Finally the moment we set eyes on Aurora. So beautiful, so tiny, so innocent. Mariah looked joyful, though tired. Dusty’s eyes were filled with delight and love. It was surreal in the scope of all that was happening, but that meant nothing to them. They were a family. Kim and I took turns holding Aurora and feeling blessed, and for a few moments family was all we were.

Dusty was worried about us being safe at their house too. He and Mariah wanted us to go to Ben’s. I felt like I was abandoning my daughter. Kim worried about running into car trouble on the road, not being able to find help, not being able to get gas. If there was something to worry about, you can believe we did, but everyone was begging us to leave. We didn’t know if Melbourne would be any safer, but at least it wasn’t in the direct path and Ben lives upstairs. There was some comfort in that! Mariah took my hand, “Mom, we are in the safest place that we can be. You are not abandoning me. Now take my other baby (their bulldog Cleo) and run!”

After only a few minutes of baby cuddling time, Kim and I did just that. We went back to their house, scrambling to gather up the rest of the stuff that needed securing before the storm, unplugging appliances and lamps, throwing photo albums up high and under cover in case they get hit with flooding. We left food and water behind for them, so they would have supplies when they got home. Gathering up the pets once again, we locked the doors and fled!

Driving from the west side of the peninsula to the east side, in the dark, with occasional flashes of lightning that illuminated foreboding clouds, warning of what was to come, lit the fires of urgency, but the road was eerie. Stores were closed, including fast food. Gas stations closed, pumps wrapped in plastic to protect electronics and keep nozzles from lashing out in the wind. There were few people on the road and those that were, were like us, trying to get out of the way.

Irma sparked the largest mass evacuation in Florida history. Not only was she bearing down as an unprecedented Cat 5, with a sustained wind speed of 185 mph, she was large, spanning 300 miles. At its widest part, the peninsula is only 160 miles across. It really didn’t matter where you were. If you were on the peninsula you’d be impacted, it was just a matter of degree.

We drove on through the dark, merged onto I-95 to a surreal situation. Six lanes nearly devoid of traffic! It was like the rapture had happened and we were the few left behind. At 11:30 p.m. we made it to Melbourne. Exiting the freeway I saw the most fantastic sight! An open gas station and they had gas! We stopped to gas up, not knowing when we would encounter more fuel, or when we would need it. We were taking no chances and nothing for granted.

Arriving at Ben’s we were finally able to breathe more deeply, lay our heads upon our pillows and rest. Tomorrow would be another day of prepping, making sure we had covered our bases and were ready for whatever Irma could throw at us. I knew Mariah and her family would be safe inside hospital walls, now it was good to be with Ben and his family. No matter what, I knew we were stronger together.

Sunday, September 10th, like most we were glued to the Weather Channel. In hours Irma would show Florida what she was made of. Overnight Cuba had taken a swing at her and we cheered as those blessed tall mountains of the island did what they could to tear Irma apart, but she was still coming. So, we waited, turned the a/c up, knowing eventually we would lose it and wanting the apartment to be as cool as possible when it happened, lined up the flashlights, and the candles. We were ready.

Irma walloped the Keys as a Cat 4 and then made second landfall on Marco Island, 8 miles due south of our home in Naples as a Cat 3, but still recording wind gusts of 145 mph! We were in line for a direct hit. The Weather Channel had people on the ground and as luck would have it, there was a storm chaser parked just outside our neighborhood, waiting for the northern eye wall. He would not be disappointed. We saw no way our home would survive and I began to cry. Mariah and Dusty sent pictures of them now camped in the hospital hallway, away from all windows. Things in Naples were turning from bad to worse and all we could do was wait.

We fixed a hot supper, knowing it might be awhile before we could cook again. The wind had begun to gust in Melbourne, and the rain had started to squall. I heard a loud crack and turned in time to see a huge tree come crashing through the bushes toward us like a T-rex on rampage, as it had broken in half and toppled over, just missing Ben’s lanai. There would be more than one tree snapped in half, or completely uprooted in the neighborhood before it was over.

Time and again the lights flickered through dinner. Each time we’d breathe a sigh of relief as they came back on. At 7:30 p.m. it went dark for good. They would not come back on for another 88 hours. Soon the emergency alerts started going off on our phones. Tornado warnings, the unpleasant byproduct of a hurricane, as if sustained monster winds were not bad enough! We finally had to turn the alert system off. They were sounding every few minutes. It was unnerving and there was not a thing we could do about it. This is Florida, not Kansas! You won’t find a cellar anywhere here. There is no safe place to be. The best we could do was move away from the windows and put it in the hands of God. One natural disaster at a time, please!

I lay on the floor in the dark. I listened as the wind lashed out at the trees and drove the rain. Trees buckled and fell, yet Irma kept coming, and coming, and coming. When would it end? Because I couldn’t do anything else, I texted my sister at 1:30 a.m., her time and simply said, “I can no longer stand the wind”.

….To be continued