It’s Hurricane Season
What an amazing, life changing experience last week held for Boxes in Fields. There was sandlands, desert lands, and mountainlands, moose, elk, and pronghorns, and highways, backways, and dirt ways. There was camp food, fast food, and local joint food.
Just a few hours short of one week from the start date, the Solar Eclipse traveling truck was returned, traveling gear switched vehicles, and the solar eclipse viewers continued traveling for another three hours to get home. Last week Thursday we were starting our vacation so the three hours were filled with eagerness and excitement. This week Thursday, the three hours were filled with silence, stress, and an impending sense of doom. Oh, and traffic. Lots and lots of traffic. Traffic was to be expected, but at this late in the stage, the sheer number of procrastinators going to prepare second homes and remove travel trailers and boats was impressive. Sure, sure, we are not stuck in traffic we are traffic. But come on, unlike all these other traffic goers, we were in Sonora, CO two days ago! There were thousands and thousands miles to cover and speed limits to follow. I would like to note, as the distance to the impact zone neared, speed limits were observed less and less. As I was saying, we were in CO trying to get home. What was the excuse for the local residents? Hmm? Procrastion? Oblivion? Ignoration?
As the miles passed, it became apparent with such little time left in the day, items to prepare were going to be prioritized. So much to prepare and mentally organize, yet the mind wanders. How can it be just two days ago on Wednesday afternoon ago this above image was Hurricane Harvey? Nothing more than a tropical storm in the Gulf with a slight chance to be a category one hurricane. Now predictions are at a category four. Holy-e-crap, a category four! This is a major difference. In just two days, mind you.
Two days to go from a tropical storm to a category four. Two days to go from normal spring winds at 30 mph to batten down the hatches and grab your ruby red slippers winds at 130 mph. Ugh. Yes, living on the coast everyone knows hurricane season runs April-October with August and September being the target months for storms due to the heat of the Gulf. However, as years go by with no hurricane activity, the mind forgets. There has not been a hurricane to hit this portion of the coastal bend since Hurricane Celia in 1970. And let me say nature is making up for the lapse of time with a vengeance.
Luckily for us, the Doubter was able to leave the Big City #1 to start preparations early Thursday morning since we were still in North Texas. The Doubter was our saving grace. Without him, there would not have been time to do much other than hook onto the Airstream and leave.
Having arrived before lunch, the Doubter measured, cut, and mounted window coverings for the chicken coop and strapped open the door for their release. This release came with great debate. It is safer to lock them up in the coop or to have free range of the trees and underbrush? Wild animals do not have hutches to hideout in and they seem to manage nature just fine. It was decided to let them roam free in the event of tree damage. With a couple of zip ties, the door was secured to remain open for comings and goings.
Freedom was not a high priority as they have never been free before. What is this freedom you speak of humans? They were just happy to have a ginormous water bucket to play in. A water bucket was added in case their watering system was damaged. Oh, good grief, the bucket is going to be a cesspool before the days end as they are going to stand in it, poop in it, drop food in it. Gross. Can’t think about that right now. Go free and stay safe little peepers. Hopefully, we will see you on the flipside.
The water management system was filled with water securing it to the platform in sheer weight. If the hurricane removes a 300-gallon tote filled with water, there will be other more pressing issues than the lack of water at Boxes in Fields.
The Planner and the Doubter finished taking and welding the hatches closed. Being as the hatches have not been completed with bolts and pins, welding was the only way to secure the hatches from being pulled open. While the Planner designed the boxes for 150 mph wind, no one really wants their stuff to be tested at 150 mph. Remember, the concern is not in the wind itself, but what the wind is blowing. In this case, it could be boats, travel trailers, trees, tin buildings, and lumber. Good grief here goes nothing.
The Airstream was readied for travel. Guess living in a trailer does have its advantage. Home is where the truck is parked. Gonna have to give this more thought at a later date. Right now, there is no room to ponder on my poor taxed brain. with the Airstream hooked up and ready to go, the Doubter’s trailer was prepared for damage mitigation. It cannot be hauled out as it hauled in because the tractor is on the same trailer. Being the tractor is more valuable, the trailer was wished good luck. Last but not least, the Planner and the Doubter helped our friend the Sailor trailer his 28′ sailboat. With all preparations made within the time allotment allowed, Boxes in Fields headed out.
Unlike our happy caravan November of last year, today’s caravan pulled out of the driveway at 6pm not knowing what the future held. As we left, the chickens finally decided to venture outside of their coop confinement.. Notice how close they are around the rooster. This once free roaming, vagrant rooster was now protecting his flock. It was a sight to see as this could be the last time they are all together. Not something anyone wants to think about. Put that on the to-do list for later too.
One and half hours later, Boxes in Fields and it’s evacuation train was only ten miles outside of town. Car traffic, truck traffic, motorhome traffic, boat traffic, and RV traffic. Flat tires, blown out tires, overloaded trucks, overheated rvs, and multiple car accidents. And yes, I was well aware of the fact we were once again traffic. There was the Planner and the Kid with the Airstream leading the way, the Sailor and his 23′ sailboat, me and the doggo in the beep-beep, and the Doubter with his tractor and trailer bringing up the rear. For whatever reason, at the fifteen-mile marker four-way stop sign, traffic ceased to exist. That is not true. Traffic was there but traffic was running at 80 mph or above instead of stop and go. Why you ask was there stop and go traffic only up to this point? No reason other than just because.
At 8:30, halfway to our destination for the night, the evacuation train detoured for a much needed break. There were legs to stretch, backs to straighten, and a fight for the bathroom. Another hour later with less than 30 minutes to spare I pulled into the local mom and pop grocer in a tiny town half way to Big City #1 where the Doubter has a tiny lake house/shack. Hey, it’s a framed house with two beds and a couch, it’s free, and it’s perfect. Our final destination while not in predicted hurricane path would still receive lots of rain. Not wanting to chance flooding in town, food supplies and staples for the next three days were bought. Remember, just two days ago it was a nothing storm. Who knows what it will be before it makes landfall tomorrow night. Ugh, double ugh, and triple ugh. There was still 24 hours before the storm makes landfall.
Friday morning, the Doubter left to return to work and his home in Big City #1 leaving us evacuees to stew. The Planner and the Sailor made a quick trip back to collect more belongings and check on the Sailor’s elderly neighbor. Once returned to the safety of the lake house by 9am, there was really nothing else to do but stew. And stew. And stew. Oh, I guess you could stress, scream, and stomp. But what good will that do? Stew, stew, stew. By Friday at 7pm, the stew had reached maximum brewing capacity and the contents had to be seperated. To bedrooms we went where phones were watched on seperate anxiety levels as the storm made headway directly for our homes, our lives, our futures.
By 10:00 the Kid was blissfully sleeping. The rest of us, not so much. Seriously, who could sleep during a time like this? There are friends at home who didn’t leave to worry about. There are homes being ripped apart to worry about. There are lives being forever altered to worry about.
By 1:40 am Saturday morning there was still no sleep to be had. Sick with worry the minutes ticked by at anything but the 150 mph winds that were being reported from home. In fact, I could swear the minutes stopped ticking all together.
Or maybe, the minutes ticked backwards. Honestly at this point in the game……
By 6 am Saturday morning, the worst of the worst was over. What was done was done. There was nothing that could be done expect wait for the rain to lay so we could return. Tomorrow, Sunday we will return to the new Boxes in Fields, the new coastal bend, the new home. Make no mistake, from this day forward, there is only pre-Hurricane Harvey and post-Hurricane Harvey.
While breakfast was being eaten, stories were told to remind ourselves life goes on. Right, wrong, or otherwise, it will move on. No, it will not be what it was before but it will be. So with those thoughts, we laughed, we played games, and we thanked the Doubter again and again. In fact it was his generosity that allowed Boxes in Fields and the Sailor to ride out this storm of storms in the safety of a fully furnished, air-conditioned house, with running hot water, and electricity while there are displaced friends sitting in hotels or in cars on the sides of roads. Thank you Doubter for we could not have survived Hurricane Harvey without you.
As we spent Saturday waiting and wondering, the rest of the world prepared their generous outpourings. The first was to be sent by Verizon. It was because of Verizon we were able to stay connected during the last three days. Videos of the damage started appearing first thing Saturday morning and we were like addicts looking for our crack dealers. Can’t stand to take a hit but can’t stand to not take one either. And as we all know, videos hits on WIFI are data whores. But without those videos, people were left in the unknown. Could we see our home? No. But we could see our neighborhood and it was not pretty. And because of Verizon I was able to maintain some sanity as it allowed me to work on my blog creating a mental escape from all the things that I could and could not see in videos, Facebook posts, and text messages.
By Saturday evening, videos and misinformation were running wild leading to a massive meltdown. The phone just had to be put away. There was nothing to see and too much to see all at once. Tomorrow. Tomorrow is the end of the end, the beginning of new. Tomorrow.