Dorian

It has been 6+ months since Hurricane Dorian ravaged the Outer Banks. I have tried to put words on paper about this experience from our perspective but I seem to fail  time after time. I guess the reason is that I don’t feel worthy of writing about something that I didn’t actually have to live through. There is no way I can give Ocracoke Island what it deserves in the aftermath of this destruction and devastation. Now I’m sitting in Social Isolation because of Covid 19 (Day 6) and I’ve exhausted things to do around the house (at least for today) and maybe it’s time to try to write again, really just for something to do and because I’ve had more time to think lately.

Looking back over these blog years, I see that I am strongly inspired by natural beauty in water, sunsets, bird life, marshland, flowers, color, etc. Beauty in nature inspires me to write to help fulfill the longing to reach out to the Source, the Creator of all beauty.  So to put in words what we have witnessed of Dorian destruction has been very difficult for me because I was unprepared for the pure ugliness it left behind on Ocracoke. It has been extremely challenging to write about it. Yet I feel compelled to try!

We went to Ocracoke 3 weeks after Dorian hit, as soon as non-resident property owners were allowed on the island, the purpose being to survey the damage and to clean up around the property. If you’ve never experienced, firsthand, a natural disaster, then you are in for an experience of a lifetime. The island was impacted by the worst flood in about 80 years if not longer. I’m only going to write about what we saw, not what people there experienced. There is much on social media about what residents there experienced. We were extremely fortunate in that our little 10 Cuttin Sage was a built on stilts (or pilings) which kept it 18 inches above the Dorian flood line. Our house stayed dry! Any house not on stilts was flooded. With Ocracoke being as old and historical as it is, many homes were not built on stilts and every one of those was flooded. 

Things I noticed when we arrived: 

Garbage.  

Piles and piles of it. Trash lined the edges of every street. The detritus of people’s lives lined Ocracoke’s streets and grew higher and higher each day we were there. To me, a home is like a living being; it breathes and lives and laughs and cries and has history and worth because people live there and cry there and laugh there and die there and build memories there. And piled on the streets of Ocracoke were the inner organs of people’s homes, the lifeblood  (things like stoves and dish washers and furniture and wood and siding and insulation and books and toys and photos) left out in the sun to decompose and be hauled away. I know, much of these things have no value, but this “trash” represents people’s lives and livelihoods hauled out to the street to be eventually hauled away by earth moving equipment.

Smells. 

There are certain smells on an island, like pluff mud (I’m still not sure what the heck that is but I think it’s what I smell when I sit on the dock on our canal. It’s a good smell. Southern novelists love to write about pluff mud), salty air, fresh fish just hauled in to the harbor docks, wonderful food smells from local restaurants, people cooking on their grills in their backyards, diesel fumes from fishing boats and ferries. The smells this time were much different. Garbage smells. Rotting stuff.  Dead fish. It permeated the island. I couldn’t get away from it. It was sickening.

Mud. 

Flood mud is way different from rain mud. It’s nasty smell and putrid, slimy blackness are something I couldn’t let my mind linger on for long. Flood mud raises with it everything below ground and on the canal floors (like septic systems and canal floor decay) and spreads it all over the island where it doesn’t belong. Boots, gloves, Chorox necessary!

Things I noticed as we stayed and worked that week doing clean up:

People.

The residents seemed extraordinarily patient, pulled together, and polite, although sad. Ocracoke was certainly missing it’s normal laid back, joyful, summertime beauty attitude, but I was blown away by the community and care exhibited by all the residents. It was humbling for me.

People made time for each other by helping others whenever and wherever possible. One beautiful evening, Molasses Creek gave a little concert on the public dock at the Community Center so people could gather and square dance if they wanted and forget, even for a few moments, the damage to their homes and livelihood.

Second and third responders. 

These are the groups that come immediately after first responders to help restore basic services to the public and provide food, water, and other necessities to help residents simply function so that they can start rebuilding their lives. The Salvation Army, Red Cross, Samaritan’s Purse, Baptist Men (which included women!), the Methodist Church, etc. were there with absolutely incredible speed and efficiency to provide generators, hot showers, full meals all day long, washing machines, tools, clothing, cleaning supplies, literally anything anyone could possibly need was supplied by these organizations (including prayer and spiritual support). I was completely astounded by the kindness, generosity, helpfulness, and teamwork of these people. Anything one needed was supplied within a couple of days if not immediately.

Back at 10 Cuttin Sage, we spent the week cleaning out everything that was under the house where we store things, adding much to the street piles; cleaning out the debris in the canal where our dock was destroyed; cleaning the boat house and all its contents which was flooded and knocked off its pilings; cutting up and pulling out an old cistern which we no longer need; wearing masks and gloves and using lots of bleach. We are so fortunate. Dorian did not rob us of our home or our livelihood. Yes, we lost some rental income but, thankfully, we’re not dependent on it. 

So I began this post by writing of nature’s beauty and nature’s ugliness. Even though we were affronted with some really ugly sights, the true beauty of this last trip was in the people. Hardship generally brings out goodness in people. Now Ocracoke is dealing with the Coronavirus and quarantines, just when they are ready to open up for a new tourist season. More hardship, more beauty to eventually come out.

God never in His word promised us an easy life, but He promises His strength and presence if we desire a personal relationship with Him through His Son, Jesus. I am just overwhelmed with gratitude that He reached out to me to save me from the ravages, not of hurricanes, but my own sinful willfulness. Sin is destructive, like hurricanes, but we have to see it’s ugliness for what it is first.... 

Here’s our street garbage beginning to pile up.

  This is what every street on Ocracoke looked like.

The island used a public beach access parking lot to collect the garbage. We called it Mt. Trashmore. It was literally turning into a mountain.

Another photo of Mt. Trashmore. I guess it wasn’t clear enough that this beach was closed?

The fish camp board walk was annihilated. The cabin owners were using their small boats and waders to get out to their cabins to clean up. Fortunately, no cabins were destroyed (that we know of) but all contents inside cabins were flooded.

Our back deck was lifted up by the flood and will have to be replaced. My gnarly Davy Jones tree root ended up under the deck and lodged there.

One dock chair ended up in a tree. One was swept away somewhere. The other 2 stayed grounded! 

What was left of our dock. The dock “finger” on the right doesn’t even belong to us! It floated down the canal and got caught on one of our pilings!

We are planning to go down in a week to do spring cleaning for a new year. All this is subject, of course, to Coronavirus protocols. After 6 months, we finally have a contractor ready to rebuild the dock and repair the boathouse hopefully beginning next week. Perhaps I’ll update again while we’re there!