From: shipman@zippy.gso.uri.edu (Scott Lindstrom)
Newsgroups: sci.geo.meteorology
Subject: Hurr. Andrew in the Bahamas [long]
Keywords: Eyewitness Report
Date: 29 Sep 92 14:20:14 GMT
Reply-To: shipman@zippy.gso.uri.edu (Scott Lindstrom)
Followup-To: sci.geo.meteorology
Organization: U of Rhode Island, Graduate School of Oceanography


I received the following in the mail and thought it would make interesting
reading for the net.  I don't know how the house mentioned is oriented, but some
inferences can be made from the text.  Note that I posted this without
permission, and that all typos are the result of my fat fingers.  Names have
been changed, of course, to protect the innocent.

Saturday 22 August

It was one of those idyllic days in the Bahamas.  The sun was bright.
Some high clouds, with temperatures in the 80s, and reasonably calm
seas.  For two days I had been tracking a tropical storm, then about 600
miles east in the Atlantic and moving slowly on a course which would
take it within 40 or 50 miles of the Ridge where our vacation home is
located.  I spent most of the day `closing up' the house and getting
ready to return to Rhode Island on Monday.  Went for a leisurely swim.
Read some in the afternoon, but kept the radio on.  Went to bed around
eleven.

Sunday 23 August  The Longest Day!

Awoke around 7:45 AM to the sound of hammering at the house next door.
Checked with the radio for new storm coordinates and realized that the
track of the storm had shifted and was now headed directly for the area
where I stood!

Skipped breakfast (and lunch and dinner!) and began getting the storm
shutters from the garage and putting them on all the windows and sliding
glass doors (there were seven sets of double doors), getting all the
patio furniture and outdoor items which might be lethal in a high wind
put securely away in the house and in the garage.

Drove to Lower Bogue to phone [my wife] and let her know that all was
under control, and not to worry.  No answer.  Returned to the house.  By
3:15 PM, the wind was beginning to pick up and some heavy rain was
beginning to fall -- at perhaps 35-40 mph.

Got the camera out and took a quick picture of the patio and ocean,
brewed a cup of coffee and sat down in the darkened house to ride it out
-- Listening to the radio and learning that the sustained winds were now
reported at about 145-150 mph.  I honestly wasn't too worried -- having
never been in winds that high before.  We had 100 mph winds here in
Providence in teh mid-80s, but I guess I had forgotten how much damage
that hurricane had done.  Besides, the house was all boarded up.

The storm continued to develop with winds coming from the north, and
rising to at least 125-130 mph.  The level of incessant noise continued
to rise, until finally I could no longer hear the radio turned to full
volume so I turned it off.

The first breach of the house occurred in the northeast bedroom where
the frame of the sliding portion of the window was pulling apart.  Just
as I entered the room to see what was happening that window gave way and
I ``caught'' half in my gloved hands as it fell to the floor.  Pulled
the bed away from the window and retreated to the living room, closing
the door to the bedroom tightly behind me.

While I had been in the bedroom, two plywood panels from the sliding
glass doors onto the front porch had ``disappeared'', along with the
shutter for the west window in the little study at the northwest corner
of the house.  Wind was still gaining momentum so there was little to be
done except hope everything else held.  I moved the couch away from a
leack in the little study, and moved a rug to the floor near the front
porch to try to soak up the water blowing in around the sliding doors.

About 5:30 pm the two plywood panels blew loose from the sliding doors
on the south side of the house and were then lying on the patio.  About
6pm the wind began to slacken up and by 6:15pm we were in the `eye' of
the storm.  Still not sensing the danger of what was yet to come, I
grabbed a camera and went outside, and took several pictures of the
damage done to the yard.  At this point, about six to eight feet had
been blown off the roof of the garage.

After a quick survey, I began the process of gathering up the plywood
panels and reinstalling them on the doors and windows.  Got that done in
about 15 minutes or so, just as the eye began to move past  the house
and the wind began to pick up again -- this time, of course, coming from
the opposite direction, from the south.

The tide was high at 6:30pm.  However, the earlier wind from the north
had literally pushed the ocean out several hundred yards and we had
over a thousand feet of beach during the period when we were in the eye.
Just before hte eye had passed fully over us, a ``river'' of water,
perhaps a hundred to two hundred feet wide and several feet deep came
rushing (!) along the shore line from the east at what must have been 50
mph.  Beyond this ``river'' still lay a couple of hundred yards of sand
between it and the ocean's edge which was still several hundred yards
from its normal place.  Then, when the wind reversed itself and the
ocean's edge came flooding back in it crashed against the southern edge
of the ``river'' with explosive force, wild noise like sticks of
dynamite going off and water spouts springing 40 to 50 feet in the air.
Then it became a several-foot-high wall, moving almost as if in slow
motion toward the house and me.

It was at this point that I ``came to my senses'' and realized that this
storm was not going to continue to be a Sunday School Picnic!  I beat a
hasty retreat into the house just as the first blasts of part two began
to seriously build up on the south face of the house.

My repair to the shutter on the window of the little study was
short-lived.  Within a few minutes, the window shattered, and the wind
was blowing in at perhaps a hundred miles an hour.  I grabbed, through
the now open window, at the board, thinking foolishly that I might be
able to hold it somewhat in place.  That lasted about 30 seconds before
the force of the rain beating against my hands became so painful that I
had to let go.

It was then only a few minutes until the force of the
then-still-accelerating wind blew out the northern sliding doors and the
plywood shutters in that same room.  I retreated quickly to the opposite
corner of the house and crouched down in the corner of the kitchen,
somewhat protected by the kitchen cabinets and the stove.  I grimly
recalled that I had not remembered to disconnect the gas lines from the
stove -- or even to turn off the gas at the tanks.

The wind pressure and the noise continued to increase.  I became acutely
aware that one cannot think when being buffeted by the levels of noise
which the wind was causing.  It felt roughly comparable to being trapped
in a small sealed room with several large jet engines open to full
throttle, and that seemed to go on for at least two hours.

Within a few minutes of my retreat to the kitchen, I began to notice the
flexing along the north side of the roof beam.  Although it was
beginning to approach dark outside, I remember seeing daylight as the
boards would pull away from the beam momentarily and then slowly settle
back again.  This happened several times, and then it was as if an
explosion had occurred under that section of roof and it simply sprang
high into the air and disappeared to the north.  

At this point, the pace of change accelerated!  One of my hastily
repaired panels on the patio doors came loose and the glass shattered,
followed quickly by the shattering of its opposite number door leading
to the front porch.  The wind, rain, and all the lighter articles in the
central portion of the house were now being blown out the front doors.
At one point I vividly remember the large picnic table (which had been
brought in from the patio and placed above the glass coffee table) was
suddenly airborne and swept over the couch and wiped out what remained
of the front doors.

Shortly thereafter, I was able to see waves from the ocean washing over
the sill from the patio and blowing across the living room floor.  Then
several waves washed in about 18 inches high.

The refrigerator began to float across the kitchen floor in a haphazard
fashion.  At this point, it seemed time to vacate the kitchen!  I
retreated once more, this time to the bedroom right off the kitchen.

From roughly 8pm or so until 10:30 pm, I stayed in the bedroom holding
off the storm literally, by wedging myself against the door.  I put my
foot against the bottom and more or less stayed in that position, at one
point pulling the door from the bathroom off its hinges and wedging it
also against the door to the kitchen.

WHen the winds began to slacken, I relaxed enough to drag the dresser to
the door and used it as a wedge to hold everything in place.  Even
though the storm was beginning to subside, large waves were still
assaulting the interior of the house, and I was afraid to venture out of
the room until around 11:15 pm.

Shortly after midnight, I ventured into the kitchen, wading through
water still about six inches deep in the house.  I righted the
refrigerator and grabbed a coke and some cheese, picked up the loaf of
bread that was still on the counter, got a tray of ice from the freezer,
and went back into the bedroom where I made a rum and coke, and had a
cheese sandwich.  Surprisingly, I was able to find a dry book of matches
and got a candle lit to survey the room:  a shambles!  The beds were
still made, but somewhat askew and soaked with water;  the floors were
covered with rocks, broken glass, and other debris.  Discovered my
airline tickets (still in my carry-on bag) quite soaked.  Found my
wallet still in the top dresser drawer in the other bedroom, but also
soaked.  Laid them all out in the dresser with a candle lighted to help
dry them out.

Discovered some blankets and a pillow on the closet shelf, wrapped in
plastic and thus quite dry.  Put the plastic on a bed, laid out blanket,
and tried to get some sleep about 1 am or so.  Probably slept an hour or
two between then and daybreak at 6am, with the wind continuing to blow
rather strongly throughout the night.

Monday August 24

Awoke to see bright light streaming through a small hole in the roof of
the bedroom.  Another idyllic Bahamas day begins.

The devastation I had seen in the dark at midnight was worse by the
light of the new day, but I nevertheless awoke with a profound sense of
gratitude.  The previous 24 hours were not a dream, but I could wake up.
I could see what had happened.  And I had not a scratch on me.  I am
alive.

I must have wandered in kind of a haze for more than an hour just
looking.  All the furniture in the two bedrooms was intact, although
soaked with rain and salt water.  The kitchen, although rearranged a
bit, was still secure.  The refrigerator was by the back door.  The work
station had shifted, and the microwave was half-buried in debris.

The front yard looked like a bomb had dropped on it.  Trees were strewn
like toothpicks, every leaf blown off.  Large boulders and three to four
foot chunks of the patio were lying in the living room and kitchen and
all over the area around the house.

The area between the front porch and the walk to the garage now held the
northern half of the roof, along with various pieces of the furniture
from the house, all tangled with the trees, vines, and other material
deposited by wind and water.

The bikes in the garage were still hanging, a bit askew, and the
waterline on the wall testified that the car had been completely covered
by the flood.

The road was impassable -- still under three to four feet of water, with
trees and downed electrical lines blocking it every several hundred
feet.  The foliage which had covered most of the coral between our house
and the ocean was completely stripped or had been blown away altogether.

A most depressing sight!  I guess I was numb and in shock for that hour
as I just wandered and looked.  It was at this point that I remember
first experiencing that terrible sense of isolation, and wondering if
anyone else on the Ridge had survived.  I left the house around 8:30 am
and began wandering up the ocean front toward Lower Bogue.

Out next-door neighbor's two homes were gone!  Seeing the desolation of
their homes did little to relieve my sense of isolation, but I remember
uttering a prayer of thanksgiving for my own life, and that they had
left two weeks earlier.  The next house was standing but quite battered.

I moved on to the Simpsons' house, which appeared to have sustained little
damage.  Happily, when I called out, voices answered!  All the Simpsons
family had survived well, along with several others who had taken refuge
with them during the storm.  They will probably never know how much the
sound of their voices relieved my fears.

I visited with them for an hour or so, and accepted their welcome offer
of fresh coffee.  They had a generator, thus electricity, thus fresh
water from their well.  As far as I can tell, that was the only source
of fresh water on the Ridge for the first few days after the storm.

I went back to our home and began sorting out clothing.  The next 24
hours are something of a blur.  I remember a great deal, but the
sequence is difficult to recapture.  I recall going through my dresser
and finding nothing dry.  I pulled out what clothing I would need, and
hung it on some bushes in the sun to dry.  I remember thinking that the
last shower I had was Saturday afternoon, and being aware that both
clothing and I smelled like rank seawater -- something akin to the smell
of a dog after he's been swimming in the pond all day.

I emptied the refrigerator of all edible foods and packed them to take
with me to the Simpsons' where I would spend the next 24 hours.  I recall
my dismay at realizing that I had forgotten to take my pills the
preceding evening!

Back at the Simpsons', I spent the night on the couch in the living room,
shared their Bible study and prayers Tuesday morning, helped clean up
the yard somewhat, helped cut up several large trees blocking the road
in front of their house, and worried that my family had no way of
knowing if I was alive or not.

Tuesday August 25

In addition to the work around the Simpsons' house, I went back to our
house, thinking I would begin the process of trying to sort out what
might be salvageable and trying to secure it somewhat, but physical
strength had disappeared and I was almost completely dysfunctional.
After putting what I could in locked closets, I packed my gear and
returned to the Simpsons house.  About 1 pm, I decided that the time had
come to try and make it to the airport and see if I could get a flight
to Florida.

The water depth in the road was still too great (for a vehicle).  There
was a small boat which had been left at the water's edge, and I
liberated it, putting my two bags in it and pulling it through the water
roughly a mile walking towards Lower Bogue, until I hit some dry spots
where the boat would not pass.  At that point, I shouldered the bags and
began walking the remaining mile and a half, mostly through knee-deep
water, into the village.

I remember the faces of the people in Lower Bogue, mostly vacant and
just staring at the devastation all around them, as I walked through the
village.  I remember the woman at the well -- one of the outdoor public
water spigots in Lower Bogue -- and the despair on her face that there
was no drinkable water in the village.  The same was true at the
airport, another three miles to the east.

As I reached the eastern outskirts of Lower Bogue, I hitched a ride in a
pickup truck the remaining two miles to the airport, arriving there at
about 4 pm.  The windows and doors of the terminal were all blown out,
but otherwise it had weathered the storm very well.  As I walked in, I
recall my surprise at seeing the USAir agent, impeccably dressed
standing behind the counter, checking people in as if nothing was amiss!

As I walked up to the counter and inquired, she said a flight to Ft.
Lauderdale was expected momentarily.  Unbelievable!  I went into the
restroom and changed into some cleaner clothes, put on my shoes, and
came out just as the plane landed.  I got on along with seven others,
and we were off at 4:30pm, arriving at Lauderdale an hour later.

Hurried through Customs with little difficulty, and ran to the gate
where I got the last seat on the flight to Charlotte.  Called home from
there and headed on the last flight of the day to Providence, arriving
at 10:30pm, just one day late!

[END]

I found the description of the sea state particularly interesting in light of
the Nof and Paldor article in the March issue of BAMS (the one on the parting of
the Red Sea).  Also thought it was interesting that all of the roof was not
removed!

Scott
--
   The only other sound's the sweep of easy wind and downy flake

shipman@zippy.gso.uri.edu 4017926509 URI GSO NBC Narragansett RI 02882
Newsgroups: sci.geo.meteorology