Facing Irene #1

Hurricane Irene is barreling up the coast, threatening my mom, my brother, two of my nephews and their families, my niece. Okay, lets just say that Irene is a family affair. We’re all praying she won’t be a home wrecker.

Doris and I rode out Hurricane Isabelle (September, 2003) with mom and dad, and the destruction was significant, so I decided to come to Broad Reach to help her through Irene’s visit. Thank you BFC Board for allowing me to go on short notice; thank you, Pastor Robb, for preaching and handling Sunday School on such short notice.

I’ll be posting frequent updates to my blog (until we lose power) with the latest news from Broad Reach.

Let’s start with the drive. Twelve looong hours. It started clear.





As I headed east, it was clouding up

It was a long drive, but it wound up being a radio feast. Today I listened to:

• Rimsky-Korsakov’s Scheherazade (awesome stuff!)
• strait-laced Christian music
• Beethoven’s Eight Symphony
• A bunch of country and western music
• An Adrian Rogers sermon
• a bunch of country and western Christian music
• A James MacDonald sermon
• And the absolute best bluegrass pickin, grinnin, and fiddlin you ever wrapped your ears around. Found this great station around Richmond. I’ve got to find out who was playing that banjo – unbelieveable. Take me home, country road!

As I got into Virginia, I began passing bucket trucks, usually in pairs. Looked like someone was pre-positioning repair stuff for the electric grid.

Relax - what you're seeing here is not a bad case of tailgating; he's towing that red car. Guess that sometimes linemen need to drive somewhere without taking the bucket truck with 'em.

Finally got to the Northern Neck. By this time I was listening to that incredible Richmond station, and deciding that I absolutely had to find out the name of that album they were playing. Good thing no one was in the car with me, as I was yee-hawing through the Virginia country side.

This is deer country, by the way. Listen, we don't have a deer population in Darke County. Here on the Northern Neck they are as thick as mosquitos. Sometime I'll have to tell you the story of Ginger the Deer. But you'd never believe me, so, maybe not. She rides in cars and has the run of someone's house here on the Northern Neck. . . . told you wouldn't believe me! It's true, though. They haven't taught Ginger how to drive yet, however. And that's the truth, too. If you visit and see a good sized doe sporting a red ribbon around her neck, that's Ginger. By all means, don't shoot her. You'd have half the county after you.

I'll bet Ginger's gonna be wearing a life-preserver tomorrow.

So what does all this have to do with a hurricane? Oh, absolutely nothing. Today was a travel day. Tomorrow is when the serious stuff starts.

Finally, my GPS tells me I have arrived. Since Doris is in Iowa (shooting a wedding), the GPS has to tell me. By the way, this road runs right into the creek. Pretty exciting drive, late at night, if you don't watch the signs. Notice the GPS is encouraging me to turn left. Now.

Mom and Rosie are waiting. By the way, she cooked a terrific steak for dinner. Delicious. You can just sign me up for all the future hurricanes.

The house looks out on the confluence of the Rappahannock and Corrotoman rivers, just 8 miles from the Chesapeake Bay. See the tip of the yellow push-pin.

It is a straight-shot due south-east to the bay: when the wind comes from that direction, nothing stops it.

Anchored about six miles off is this barge. I hope it's not sitting in the front yard tomorrow night.

It's 11:30 PM now and overcast. I can hear the surf on the beach. We've got a steady 12kt breeze (estimated) coming out of the east. The air is hot, wet, and heavy; a perfect fuel for cyclonic circulation.

The Emergency Mgmt people were out earlier tonight at the point just across the little creek (see the picture above the barge), ordering an evacuation. The land and road on that point is very low. We're high enough here to be safe from the high-tide plus storm surge, coming in conjunction tomorrow night. High enough, that is, unless God forgets His promise to Noah. Not likely.

Pray for Louie - his house is like, 5 feet out of the evacuation zone in Norfolk. That's too close for comfort. Most of his yard, including his wood shop, are in the evacuation zone. That zone is based on elevation above mean sea level. When Isabelle came through, his street was under water.

Next post - tomorrow morning.