Rough Weather on the Way

By Rick Horowitz

AVON, N.C. -- The first thing we did was move the car to higher ground. It was a rental car, after all, and we didn't relish trying to explain -- even assuming we could eventually get it running, and get it back to the mainland -- what the Atlantic Ocean was doing in the back seat.

So we took the car to the parking lot behind the real-estate office; the real-estate people had called on Friday evening to tell us we could leave it there. The parking lot was only a few feet higher than the rest of the town. But when the storm blew across Hatteras Island some time Saturday -- when the waves started crashing over the dunes on the ocean side and joined forces with the storm surge on the sound side -- a few feet of extra elevation could make all the difference. They'd been through this before, people who rent out beach houses to the likes of us, and they knew what was coming.

Hurricane Charley was coming, just days after Bonnie had been here, and only a week or so after Alex. We'd seen the remnants -- downed trees, broken windows, missing shingles. This time, we'd have a front-row seat.

Lucky us.

Moving the car was the first thing we did. We also grabbed the folding chairs from the rooftop deck and hustled them downstairs; we couldn't have them flying all over the neighborhood. We took the big picnic table on the screened porch and turned it upside down. It was a heavy wooden thing, and the very idea that the wind might be strong enough to lift it up and carry it away --

We flipped the rest of the porch furniture, too -- more chairs, a few benches. (The porch swing, we decided, would have to fend for itself.) We tried to tuck the garbage can into the outdoor shower stall; it didn't fit. We'd have battened down the hatches, too, if only we knew where the hatches were, and if we'd had the slightest idea what battening is.

Still, we were ready for the worst of it -- or so we hoped. And the waiting began.

Saturday morning dawned an eerie gray. No rain yet, and barely a breeze, but a definite sense of looming...loomingness. The TV was still working (for the moment, at least); the Weather Channel was saying that the heaviest rains and strongest winds would arrive after noon, with major gusts and drenching downpours lasting into the evening hours. A few of the housemates slipped outside for one last brief walk along the beach before Charley roared in, while others stayed glued to the tube, monitoring the up-to-the-minute storm track.

Outside, the waves were starting to pound with new intensity, and off to the south, the wind was rising. The center of the hurricane was going to track to our west, the announcers said -- small consolation, since the worst of the storm, they said, would be on its eastern side. In other words, where we were. Our housemates were finally back from their walk on the beach. They'd been gone for hours, and we'd been worried about them. Still no rain, they reported. Still no hurricane. They had, however, gotten a little sunburned.

We went out for lunch.

While we were out, we reinforced our defenses against the onrushing storm -- more bottled water, more candles and another flashlight in case the power went off, and extra batteries for the radio. An excellent strategy, we soon discovered.

"A flood watch, a hurricane warning, and a tornado watch have been issued for your area by the National Weather Service."

We were back at the house, and the Weather Channel was back to sounding the alarm, except that it sounded even worse than it had before. Flood? Hurricane? Tornado? Any of the three could be devastating. We should have evacuated when we had the chance!

The waves were still growing, and the wind was getting stronger by the minute. We hadn't felt a breeze like that for years. It wasn't yet strong enough to do any damage; in fact, it felt strangely refreshing. On the screened porch, we turned the chairs back to upright and let the wind have at us while we waited for Charley.

And waited. And waited. From time to time, raindrops would start to fall. "Here it comes!" we'd think. "This is it!" Then the raindrops would stop again. Afternoon turned to late afternoon and still no hurricane. Late afternoon turned to evening and still no hurricane; the clouds were beginning to break apart, and the wind was dying down. To our south and our west, the TV said, there was plenty of rain and plenty of flooding. To our north, there was plenty of rain, plenty of flooding -- and a tornado.

But right here? Right here, where the island juts into the ocean like an exposed chin? Nothing. Somehow, we'd been spared.

The last thing we did was go get the car. We pulled back into a grassy spot alongside the house and started the long climb up the stairs.

Above us, the stars were shining.

Posted 8/17/04. In foul weather or fair, make "Rick's" your place for award-winning commentary!

Rick Horowitz is a syndicated columnist, TV commentator, writing coach and public speaker.

Search the Web Search Rick's!