It’s that time of year again, when a website we barely acknowledge for at least six months of the year suddenly becomes one of our top choices.
I’m speaking, of course, of the National Hurricane Center’s online address; or Windguru; or Weather Underground … everyone has their favourite and swears by it in storm season. Seriously, one of the first indicators of us entering this time of year is people arguing at the bars about which site is the most comprehensive and informative. We’re all ready to give meteorologist Jim Cantore a run for his money.
I remember in September 2004 when Hurricane Ivan was starting to make its way into the Caribbean, and I suddenly fancied myself a bit of an expert. Friends of mine at work were getting concerned about the path it was going to take, and I was ready – nay, eager – to reassure them that we would be absolutely fine. I began with the history of storms in the area, then I pointed to a map or two indicating probable routes, probably muttering something about isobars along the way. By the time I was done, they seemed quite relieved and convinced it was basically going to make a U-turn and die quietly off the coast of South America. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how that all worked out.
It was an old Caymanian seaman who made the most solid prediction. A couple of days before we got hit, it looked as though our Sister Islands were going to take the brunt of it, but this man told us to never count out the impact of the mountains in Jamaica. Sure enough, Ivan took a little hop to the left under our neighbour to the east before continuing on its journey, with Grand Cayman right in its path.
Accepting that perhaps I should leave my prediction skills to the qualified, I’m trying to be better this year about prepping for a storm, rather than studying the stars; watching the direction of butterflies; and checking the colours of mangoes on the trees. (“A-ha … this is more orange than yellow, which must mean a Category 2 in the first half of October … ”.)
My best friend and housemate, Lynne, has always been the more organised of the two of us. For the last umpteen weeks, she’s been begging me to go through all the lawn furniture strewn about in varying stages of decay. You know the type – woven ‘wicker’ that disintegrates in the blazing hot sun. You don’t realise how brittle it’s become, until maybe you try to sit on it and disappear through the seat. Here’s a tip, based on personal experience: Test it out over the grass, not concrete. I bought loads of the stuff secondhand a few years ago. I guess I had all these notions of garden parties and the outdoor soirees we would hold at the house, until I accepted that I hate the heat; and tea, crumpets and mosquitoes just don’t mix.
Such furniture can turn into projectiles in a storm, which means having to drag it inside and pile it up like giant Jenga every time there’s an alert. Having done it once before, you’d imagine the notion of repeating that gruntfest alone would be enough to have me chucking away anything in disrepair, Lynne’s nudging (see: badgering) aside. As I write this, I’m suddenly determined to get on that project this week.
From May, Lynne starts buying hurricane supplies. The problem is that if I don’t monitor her at the supermarkets, she purchases food items that I wouldn’t consume under the best of circumstances, let alone the aftermath of a hurricane. Like taking clothes on vacation that we’ve never worn before, but for some reason think they will suddenly appeal in another country, so stocking up on groceries we would never usually eat makes no sense. Last week, I came home to a huge VALU-PACK of different flavoured crisps sitting on the kitchen counter, made by an unfamiliar brand. She’d been at it again.
“Lynne, what are these?” I asked, holding aloft one bag of 100 in some experimental flavour.
“Hurricane supplies,” she answered.
“Can’t we get food we actually like?”
“I like those,” she said.
Apparently, hurricane prep can bring out the selfishness in all of us. Problem is, I could counteract with, “Fine – I’ll just get my own!” but then will I actually get around to it? Aye, there’s the rub.
All kidding aside, it really does make sense to stock up in advance. Hazard Management, the media, the Red Cross … knowledgeable organisations all, constantly recommend that we have a particular group of supplies at the ready. So why do so many of us insist on waiting until the eleventh hour? I’ll be the first to put my hand up and say I’ve fought someone off for the last can of SpaghettiOs, or a pack of batteries, before getting into a queue at the supermarket that stretches from the cashier to the fish counter.
This year, I’m going to be different. I’m going to get rid of that old lawn furniture, buy my batteries in bulk, and fill a larder with tins of my staples.
Chef Boyardee and off-brand crisps. Please, God … no hurricanes.
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