By mid-Wednesday, no one had done much to prepare for the slowly approaching freight train named Matthew. The sole places with protective window coverings on Tybee Island were City Hall and the town library. Savannah had done nothing.
Matthew’s hurricane watch for the Georgia coast (i.e., hurricane force conditions within 48 hours) was declared Wednesday at 3 PM. Thursday hurricane preparations were done in intermittent sunshine. Friday storm security work was done during occasional rain squalls and tropical storm force winds. Handling 4×8 foot pieces of plywood would have been Laurel & Hardy funny, had it been not so scary and stupid to wait so long to do this.
Compliance with evacuation orders by inhabitants of Georgia’s barrier islands and low lying mainland plains to the east of I95 was excellent. Savannah city resident compliance was spotty, since the town sits on a bluff high above the coastal plain, the river and likely combined storm surge and rain flooding areas. After all, water is the major cause of death and injury during hurricanes. When storm surge begins, water rises like an elevator. Storm surges are more powerful than anything one can imagine. You should always run from the water, the earlier the better.
A single story to illustrate this point should suffice. During category 3 Hurricane Wilma’s brush with the lower Florida Keys in October 2005, a family living in a grade level home just above sea level on Big Coppitt Key found itself threatened by Wilma’s surge. Despite climbing atop their home’s roof. Wilma threatened to sweep them away. With no other options, they timed their jump into the rushing waters and swam to a nearby stilt home. They rode out the rest of Wilma’s surge in the rafters of the stilt home.
Inundation projection graphics of coastal cities along Hurricane Matthew’s path pointedly made the case for deadly surge conditions along the American southeast coast.
http://www.pbs.org/newshour/rundown/heres-hurricane-matthew-might-cause-worst-flooding/
http://www.nhc.noaa.gov/refresh/graphics_at4+shtml/095334.shtml?inundation#contents
That left the other damage mechanism – wind.
The tropical storm wind strength portion of Matthew was scheduled to arrive in Savannah just past midday Friday. He was prompt. His hurricane force strength offerings were likewise delivered on time late Friday evening.
Late Thursday afternoon, the sun folded itself upon itself. Dark grey skies were all they had for the next few days. Friday afternoon the rain came in force accompanied by an introduction to the wind’s three furies.
In ancient lore, these wraiths were named Allecto (endless), Tisiphone (punishment), and Megaera (jealous rage). These are only aliases. Their real names are Death, Destruction and Vengeance. They formed the crest of Matthew’s cyclone before which 500 miles of American barrier island and mainland coastline was swept over a precipice. They announced Matthew’s arrival as wing-shaped storm bands of swirling shades of darkness. Clouds of insects were seen arising in reaction to their approach flying off in various directions to escape them.
A cyclone’s winds can’t be snared or steered. One may flee them, but sometimes these ocean twisters wobble off of their intended paths and chase those trying to escape. Those in a cyclone wind field’s way must get to hiding in storm shelters or solid buildings at top speed.
For a long time Friday, Savannah was quiet save for gentle rain shower sounds, comforting those who stayed and sheltered themselves in their Hostess City homes. This may have fooled a few who assumed that Matthew might have weakened or changed course. Fewer still may have toasted their good fortune. Those with hurricane experience knew otherwise.
The sounds were the first clues. They always are. An electrical pop was heard. In retrospect, it signaled that a neighborhood power transformer failed. Lights flickered and for some went out.
Early during Saturday morning’s dark hours, the ocean burst forth, inundating the coastal empire’s marshes, inlets and grassy plains. Many hours of building rain torrents caused river flooding and coupled with the storm surge floated barrier island and low country homes away and turned some graves upside down.
The furies howled and clamored for what seemed more than a night and a day of noise. When the trio bellowed in unison, listeners’ ears popped. At times, these voices drove the unlucky to the brink of madness.
None knew the wind’s strength outside, but they could sense its power. Buildings creaked, cracked and groaned under the furies relentless assault. When winds peaked, outside doors wouldn’t budge. The pressure sealed them shut, trapping occupants. At times everything — windows, rain, doors, wind, sinks, fireplaces, water pipes, walls, toilets — talked to those who stayed . . .
There were two things old hurricane pro’s did not want to hear. First was the change in the furies pitch from a scream to a shriek. One of these changes was okay but a pulsing series of them was a bad sign. The second and more threatening thing was a not-so-subtle harbinger of impending death — the freight-train rumble. While Matthew’s train did not come, the stayers saw wingless things rocket about like unguided missiles outside their unprotected windows.
When the howling died down, Savannah stayers exited their shelters to see that debris lofted by the furies had breached exterior house walls and car windshields.
Birds were scattered about in all directions. After Matthew’s winds died down, native Florida birds were observed perched in Georgia peach trees, while Georgia birds were seen supping near dropped oranges in the Sunshine State. Georgia coastal empire’s lush vegetation devastated. Blue tarps appeared on roof tops.
With the passing of Matthew’s storm surge, formerly inundated riverside streets and sidewalks were monstrously foul smelling and littered with all sorts of flotsam, jetsam and dead and battered sea creatures. These odors would torment inhabitants until municipal water main pressure was restored and clean up started.
Thus accompanied did super storm Matthew open briefly a portal to a hellish underworld during his visit this week to Savannah.
The gates of hell were open for a night and a day
Watery was the descent, storm tossed was the way
Today calm returned as did cheerful skies
Now in their tasks mighty labor lies
All will be well. at least better, tomorrow.
No solar storm or election apocalypse sorrow
Landscape destroyed, naturally it will return
Manscape to rebuild, mountains of debris to burn
Copyright © 2016 From My Isle Seat
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