Showing posts with label hurricane. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hurricane. Show all posts

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Waves from Hurricane Earl

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Hurricanes in the Atlantic Ocean have been plentiful this year, as predicted. Fortunately, none have struck the U.S. mainland. But many states along the East Coast have felt some of their neater effects: the surf. Hurricane Earl passed 400 miles to the east of Florida, sending high waves to the shore Sept. 1 and 2. For the newspaper, I shot them before and after they peaked on Sept. 2 at 12 feet or so. Above, some tourists from Lithuania awaited a large wave on Sept. 1 near Minutemen Causeway in Cocoa Beach.

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On Sept. 2, a Carnival cruise ship sailed from Port Canaveral, as seen from Lori Wilson Park in Cocoa Beach.

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A shot down the length of the beach shows the turbulent surf, which presented a danger through rip currents and the waves' raw power.

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A Wallenius Wilhelmsen cargo ship left Port Canaveral in this view from Lori Wilson Park in Cocoa Beach.

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This 3-year-old, Summer, mimicked a crab for a good five minutes or so. Notice the crab's claws and her hands.

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Earl's waves crashed into 9-year-old Sebastian, who was styling on a boogie board at Shepard Park in Cocoa Beach.

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Another 3-year-old, Shamayen, falls from the pull of the ocean at Shepard Park in Cocoa Beach.

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A couple frolicked at Lori Wilson Park in Cocoa Beach.

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Some cousins from Orlando lounged on the sand at Shepard Park in Cocoa Beach.

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Most of the serious surfers chose the beach at Second Light at Patrick Air Force Base.

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A skilled surfer took advantage of the waning daylight at Second Light.

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The surfers I talked with said the conditions were rough and not conducive for beginners ...

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... but even the more experienced ones suffered serious wipeouts.

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Robert Fuentes, a surfer for 30 years, caught a wave late in the day at Second Light.

Thursday, September 4, 2008

Don't hate me, Floridians: I still want a hurricane

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This is the closest I could get to the large waves being kicked up by Tropical Storm Hanna. I was only up to my knees when I took this.


With Tropical Storm Hanna approaching and creating violent rip currents and surf, the Air Force has closed access to its beaches in Brevard County, which creates a dilemma for me. I have been addicted to going for a swim after taking an early afternoon run. But with the closest beach at Patrick Air Force Base closed, I won't be doing that today.

I did go yesterday, however, and I tried an experiment with the camera. It failed miserably, though.

I ventured into the water with the camera in hand. I didn't strap it to my neck; in case I fell in, I would be able to hold the camera above the water.

I waded in slowly, and the water was only halfway up my shins when a surge came in and I was suddenly up to my chest in sandy ocean water. I planted my feet as firmly as possible into the sand to fight the rip currents from pulling me and my camera down. Fortunately, I won that battle.

The waves are large, and I thought a close-up photo of a crest would be cool. But as I found out, it's also impossible without a waterproof camera.

The beating my camera takes with the salty mist at the beach is enough. I quit while I was ahead and while my camera was still dry.

I am, however, investing in some rain-proof sleeves for my camera. That way, I'll be able to take photos during the next hurricane.

Hanna will probably affect Brevard, the town in North Carolina, more than Brevard, the county in Florida. But there are two more storms on its trail.

It won't be cool if Hurricane Ike hits as a Category 4, but if weaker, it might be a fun time. Its track is uncertain: It could head toward South Florida or scurry up the East Coast like Hanna is doing. My fingers are crossed.

Monday, September 1, 2008

Hanna Hanna bo banna: Hurricane's waves are building

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A lone surfer tries to catch one of the waves that are really being kicked up by Hurricane Hanna.


The tropics are really heating up now, as you can tell from the satellite image to the left.

Both Hanna and Ike seem to be on similar paths that would take them just off Florida's east coast.

We may get clipped by something here in Brevard County, but it looks like I'll have to wait a little longer to get my hurricane.

Meanwhile, people keep calling me crazy that I actually want to see one.

Friday, August 29, 2008

Fay flooding: Isn't it ironic, don't you think?

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A bench that once rested alongside Lake Washington is now in Lake Washington.

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The public dock at Lake Washington Park also is sort of inaccessible. I talked to another man who was taking photos yesterday. He was amazed by the scene and said that just a few weeks ago, he had to throw a rope upward from his airboat to attach it to the dock above.


Having missed the real action, I hit the swampy streets of Brevard County yesterday to see Tropical Storm Fay's aftermath for myself.

The first thing I noticed really stood out as the most remarkable thing I saw all day. But oddly, it didn't surprise me.

In the Parkway Meadows neighborhood - which is next door to mine, Baymeadows, and experienced some of the worst flooding - the sprinklers were on in full force. We get 2 feet of rain, and people still see the need to water their lawns. Floridians need to make sure their lawns don't get one blade of dry grass.

In Parkway Meadows and in most of the communities I visited, there were large puddles, but the water had mostly receded. The retention ponds that give Florida its beauty, however, were overflowing. Another strong rainstorm would certainly turn Melbourne into Lake Melbourne.

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A pathetic line of sandbags is strewn in front of a house in the Parkway Meadows subdivision.

Sandbags still sat near the outside walls of some homes, and there were piles of carpeting, boards and discarded furniture at the end of several driveways along John Rodes Boulevard, a few miles from my house.

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One of the more ironic aspects of the storm was that it flooded the woods that were burned in the May wildfires in Palm Bay.

Probably even more ironic than the sprinklers was the scene of the flooded forests that were burned during the May wildfires that destroyed 33 homes in Palm Bay. The last time I had seen those trees, they were on fire. Now, they're wading in a foot of water.

On my way back home, I drove through another rainstorm that wiped out visibility. But it lasted two minutes, then the sun came out again.

My last stop was at Lamplighter Village, a trailer park off John Rodes Boulevard that was hit hard by Fay. The devastation was still apparent, though it was no post-Katrina NOLA. It wasn't even Cedar Rapids or Des Moines.

The village is developed around a large retention pond - or lake, as they call it in Florida. Interstate 95 runs along the west side of the village and John Rodes is to the east. Because they're both elevated, the roadways effectively create the sides of a bowl that held the stormwater during Fay. The lake couldn't retain all that Fay had to offer, so water spilled into the homes surrounding it.

The National Guard, I think, has had a presence in the neighborhood since Fay hit. Guards were posted at the entrances to make sure only residents were allowed access. I must have caught one sleeping inside his vehicle because he jumped out of it well after I drove past him. So I was lucky to get into the community.

Workers were gutting trailers of their contents and throwing the waterlogged material into piles along the road. Some of the lakefront homes have docks, but they weren't reachable, as there was water surrounding them, too.

I had to drive through 6 inches of water in the roadway. If I complain about that, I can't imagine what it was like during the storm.

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A worker secures a flooded car on the back of a truck that was loaded with destroyed vehicles from the Lamplighter Neighborhood of Melbourne.

One of the saddest aspects, though, is a large tractor-trailer that was being loading with cars destroyed by the flood.


View Larger Map

To get a sense of what the neighborhood was like before the flood, take a look at the Google Street View map that is embedded above. The house you see is the one I photographed, below, with a man working outside.

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There is a dock to the right of this photo's frame. It's surrounded by water.

Thursday, August 28, 2008

After flight, back in Brevard and ready for hurricane

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I flew over an old home yesterday: Long Island. The photo shows the middle of the island, with Great South Bay at the bottom of the image. I could see the skyscrapers of New York City in the distance and the huge ships chugging toward the harbor. We then flew parallel to the Jersey Shore for a while. It was a spectacular.


I tell everyone here in Brevard County, Fla., that I'm disappointed that I missed Tropical Storm Fay's 27 inches of rain and that I want to see a big storm for myself. They look at me like I'm crazy.

But the tropics are really kicking into gear, with Tropical Storm Gustav heading into the Gulf of Mexico and Hanna, which may come closer to Florida, to the northeast of it.

Though I missed the storm, there are many obvious effects of Fay that are still visible. After flying into Sanford, just north of Orlando, and seeing the waterlogged region from above, I crossed a bridge over Lake Jesup, the alligator haven. The homes along the shore were still surrounded by water.

And it's a good thing I didn't use State Road 46 to get back to Melbourne because that's flooded, too, and quite impassable.

I did, however, take Interstate 95 just as a strong thunderstorm hit. The clouds dumped about 4 inches of standing water into the left-hand lane of the highway. As people passed me, they sprayed water onto my car, reducing visibility to zero. I almost crashed.

I managed to keep my car on the road, but a delivery truck driver wasn't as fortunate. He lost control and drove his truck into the flooded swampy area along I-95. About one-quarter of the truck was underwater as I drove by the scene.

My house is fine, of course. The water came close but didn't enter it. My mail, which probably wasn't extracted from the box until yesterday when my former roommate came by, was soaked.

The most noticeable effect of Fay, which caused $60 million in damage in Brevard, is that it is extremely humid here now, more so than I have ever experienced. The ground is saturated with water. Really, everything is just wet.