"Ivan"
by
Gretchen Steen
It began as TD #9; it was the peak of the season. Across the Atlantic Ocean, where would it go? We watched and we waited as it marched westward, it grew by the hour as it set its aim.
A little more than a week since its inevitable birth, it was now a tropical storm bearing down on the Caribbean. Nowhere to run as the storm approached, and no longer a tropical storm, it had grown to a hurricane, we called it “Ivan the Terrible”.
It passed the islands leaving a path of destruction, Jamaica, Dominican Republic, Haiti and Cuba unfortunately fared no better. It was a monster on the loose, an unforgiving menace and growing.
It had increased in size and its strength was horrific. It skirted the Florida Keys and made a quick turn. Into the Gulf of Mexico it marched. The radar was unbelievable. The storm was 400 miles wide, winds over 150 mph, a Category 5.
We watched and waited as it churned northward. We boarded the windows and packed our vehicles, turned off the gas and covered everything inside with heavy plastic, and fled our home that may not last. We traveled 900 miles to escape the wrath of this monster headed toward our door.
We evacuated as we were told, in an exodus of only northbound traffic, reaching Memphis hours before landfall. We got a room and watched in horror, continuing news coverage as the bands overtook the Emerald Coast.
Finally, in the middle of the night, the evil eye was in sight. It came ashore just west of home, the worst it could be. The storm moved inland quickly but its demise was not imminent. Moving northward the winds and rain continued to wreak havoc over the land.
We watched the horrendous news over and over again, two days passed and we headed home. We had travelled all the way to Memphis, Tennessee and off to our east, we could see the remnants as the storm pressed northward through Alabama. The caravans of help coming from the north drove alongside us, already making their trip. Hundreds of miles from our destination, the traffic going south began to crawl.
There was no news, just static to our ears. Was there anything left or had it disappeared? I rolled down the windows as I drove. The silence was eerie as I crept along. Debris littered the Interstate, the forests were bare…all GONE!
The smell of pine from the broken trees filled my head and made me see what Mother Nature was capable of. My heart sank as I thought of home. Would it be there or would it be gone?
As I approached the city, the traffic lights were ripped from their moorings, not lying by the roadside, they had just disappeared. Miles of power lines torn away, buildings ceased to exist, everything blown down in a strange pattern, laid to waste from east to west.
I turned down my street and avoided downed trees; a narrow path had been cut through the debris. Slowly I continued. I had to see what remained. Uprooted trees greeted my headlights and ghostly silence filled my ears.
The house still stood as we had left it, the roof was intact. The fence was gone and so were the trees. All pulled up and turned over, I could only see the massive roots towering above me. I pulled in the driveway and breathed a sigh of relief. We were lucky, or were we?
Daylight would bring the horrible truth, what we couldn’t see in the blackness of night. A tornado had spun through our yard during the storm and left its ugly path. Trees twisted and some completely gone. No water, no power and all the food spoiled.
Weeks would pass as we survived, in this nightmarish condition. We sat in gas lines for limited fuel, patrolled by armed military guards. Don’t butt in line, or you’d be staring down the barrel of a well-aimed gun. Food and ice lines we sat in for hours and miles. Each day we’d wait for two bags of ice per car and a box of MRE’s.
The community baseball fields served as refuse deposits. Caravans of trucks, all shapes and sizes would fill with debris and dump in this central location. It held four baseball diamonds and two football fields, plus vendor and spectator accommodations. This whole area was piled four-stories high, and they still needed more space.
We finally regained service, water, electric, and telephone the end of October.
It was a nightmare that I will NEVER forget. Hurricane seasons come, and every year we wait. I never gave it much thought until September 16, 2004, when “Ivan the Terrible” came to town and showed us all who was boss.
~~~~~
Hurricane Ivan made landfall just west of Gulf Shores, Alabama at approximately 2:45 am EDT on September 16, 2004, with maximum sustained winds of 130 mph. Gulf Shores, Alabama is 45 miles southwest of Pensacola, Florida where I lived at the time. The worst area of a land-falling hurricane is the northeast quadrant, which went directly over Pensacola.
I spent most of my life in the Northeast. I didn’t give hurricanes a second thought. We had frigid cold, blinding snowstorms, crippling ice storms and the dreaded “Nor’easters”.
For a long time now, even before Ivan, I had a deep respect for the weather … an uncontrollable force that reminds us of who really is in charge!
© 2011 Gretchen Steen
