Shelter in Place

The first tendrils of Ike.

Portland, Texas

Friday 9:30 a.m.

Ike

26.9N  92.2W

Winds 105 mph

Gusts 125 mph

230 miles from Galveston

Moving WNW at 13 mph

Our new plan:  shelter in place.  The storm is currently expected to make one more turn to the north and make a direct hit on Galveston and Houston.  If it does not turn, it will make landfall between Port Lavaca and Freeport.  All of these towns are up the coast from us, leaving us on the dryer side of the storm by more than 100 miles.  

We will shut ourselves in this evening, boarding the last window and bracing the garage door.  Just in case.  The storm is expected to make landfall around 1:00 a.m.  Fifteen hours or so.  

Right now, it’s beautiful.  The air feels cool (82F/2C) and there is a light breeze from the northeast.  Those wisps of cloud are the first tendrils of Ike sweeping across our sky.  This storm is huge, spanning more than forty percent of the Gulf of Mexico.  It is still a Category 2 storm, but is expected to intensify suddenly to a Category 3 just before landfall.  

Here’s what scares me.  Galveston has (intelligently) ordered an evacuation.  Houston has not followed.  Take a look at this map of the hurricane.  Now, zoom in on the landfall point.  The bumps in the blue water are an ocean shelf that allows a huge amount of water to build up suddenly.  When that water is being pushed from behind by a titanic freight train, the only place for it to go is right up the shelf onto the land.  Right into that big bay and to the densely populated urban area around and beyond it.  The seawall at Galveston is 17 feet.  People beyond Galveston in low-lying areas have been evacuated.  But the bulk of Houston’s population is not being evacuated.  

I fear what will happen if the eye of the storm comes ashore southwest of Galveston, with the strongest part of the storm and its surge just to the right of the eye.  I equally fear what would happen if Houston told everyone to leave right now.  At least 118 people died in the evacuation for Hurricane Rita in 2005.  Perhaps city officials waited too long on this one, and feared that an evacuation order now would create that same kind of chaos again.    

Perhaps a donation to the Red Cross would not be out of order just now.  

Turning North

A glance to the southeast from the back porch.  Ike’s out there somewhere.  

Portland, Texas

Thursday 4:30 p.m.

403 miles and closing

Landfall estimated in 33 hours

We’re in a liminal space.  The storm has turned to the north.  We are now no longer in the Cone of Uncertainty for hurricane force winds.  There could be a wobble back toward us, of course, but the closer we get to landfall, the less likely that becomes.  

We are receiving mixed messages.  Minutes after the county issued a mandatory evacuation order earlier, the city indicated that evacuation was still recommended and NOT mandatory (“…contrary to what you may have heard…”).  Huh?  

Stay or go?  We don’t know.  Stay, and make room for the evacuation of those more directly in the path of the storm now?  Go, on the chance that this large and unusually unpredictable storm could drive back toward us?  

So we wait.  I have the utmost sympathy for anyone wanting to drive westbound on I-10 out of Houston right now.  

Oh, and there’s been some knitting.  This represents Clue 1 from Mystery Stole 4.  

Celery with lemon. In the shade.

Mandatory

Portland, Texas

Thursday 10:00 a.m.

584 miles to Ike

The neighbors are out in force boarding up their windows.  We’ve put away all of the laundry and need to do a few dishes. 

San Patricio County has now issued a mandatory evacuation order for the eastern part of the county, including Portland.  Though the storm continues to track farther to the north, and we had begun to entertain thoughts of sheltering in place, we will now stick to the original plan of getting the heck out of the way.  

I’ve packed essential bathroom items and medicines into bags.  I’m using the (now empty) laundry baskets for batteries, radios, irreplaceable objects (like photo albums and my copy of Bright’s Anglo-Saxon Poetry that my undergraduate advisor gave me when I finished my Honor’s Thesis.  A sort of academic heirloom, it is very old and had been passed to my advisor from his advisory, etc.).

Our windows are covered, except for the back door, which will be covered as we leave.  

Our preparations are punctuated by pauses to chat with neighbors.  Now and again, we all stop and confer.  There is not a schedule to this, and we do not interrupt any serious work.  But during the lulls, the water breaks, there is talking.  I have to say that preparing for a hurricane is not how I wanted to spend my week, but this gathering, this taking a few moments to connect with the neighbors that normally zoom by with a wave on the way to and fro, this is a cherished bit of the hurricane preparations.  I like my neighbors, but our busy lives generally keep us from this sort of lingering interaction.  So I will hold on to those moments of connection as precious.  

Closures

The dinosaur plant in the front yard (and in the dark), much pruned last year. 

Portland, Texas

9:30 p.m.

726 miles to Ike

The library closed early tonight.  We just missed them at five this evening, hoping to get a copy of the book Sonar X8 is reading.  His teachers asked the students to leave their school library books at school.  Pshaw.  When we found the library closed, we headed for our local used bookstore.  And lo, we readily found a copy of Lillian Jackson Braun’s The Cat Who Wasn’t There.  And Tuck Everlasting.  And another book who’s title escapes me now.  Oh, and there could have been more.  There could always be more.  Praise Ms. Hay and her lovely little shop.  

At six this evening, the city issued a Recommendation for Evacuation to begin at seven o’clock tomorrow morning.  Not mandatory.  Just sort of Pretty Please.  

Partner spent three hours tonight helping a neighbor cut plywood to fit her windows.  Her husband is stranded in Maryland and won’t make it back into town before Tuesday (!) at the earliest.  Helping was fine, but can I just say, that figuring out how to cover the windows is not a job to be left for the last minute.  Cover with shutters.  Cover with plywood.  Cover with those corrugated aluminum things.  Putting them up at the eleventh hour is fine, but they should be fit and ready to go.  The stress and fatigue and aggravation of the measuring and cutting and hanging, on top of the general anxiety that precedes the storm, is just too much.  

We plan to board our windows tomorrow first thing.  And we are holding steady with the plan to leave early Friday morning unless forced out sooner by mandatory evacuation.  

The Sonars and every other child under twelve at this end of our street played in our yard all evening (with breaks to run home for dinner), carrying on an epic water fight while swinging and chasing each other around.  Ten kids at the peak.  Ranging in age from three to 11.  

There is some temptation to sit up all night and watch the weather.  But my allergies are kicking my butt, chest aches… oh, did I mention that I have a fever?  And that vague bronchitis-y feeling.  Shhh.  Never mind that. 

Doesn’t everyone put baby socks on their claw-footed piano chairs to keep them from scratching the floor?  

Cancellations

A cupboard full of books.

Portland, TX

Wednesday 2:00 p.m.

School is cancelled for the remainder of the week, and will reopen as soon as possible after the storm.  

That second part is ominous, no?  I’ve got one better than that though…

Emergency management officials expect the storm to make landfall at 150 miles per hour, or a strong Category 4 storm.  Very likely to be the worst Texas hurricane for the past thirty or forty years.  

According to the Wikipedia, “Category 4 hurricanes tend to produce more extensive curtainwall failures, with some complete roof structural failure on small residences.  Heavy, irreparable damage and near complete destruction of gas station canopies and other wide span overhang type structures are also common.  Mobile and manufactured homes are leveled.  These hurricanes cause major erosion of beach areas and terrain may be flooded inland as well.  Hurricanes of this intensity are extremely dangerous to populated ares.  The Galveston [Texas] Hurricane of 1900, the deadliest natural disaster to hit the United States, would be classified as Category 4 if it occurred today.”  

Hang on to yer hats.