CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN: ALL EYES ON SANDY

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN: ALL EYES ON SANDY

Between our departure from Ft. Lauderdale in June, 2012 and now, Sunday, October 28, we have experienced two tropical storms on the Intracoastal Waterway. We are still in the middle of our “Sandy” experience. Sandy is the tropical “Frankenstorm” off the Atlantic Coast, which covers an area of 500 miles and which threatens to devastate the New Jersey seashore, as well as cause two feet of snow to be dumped in West Virginia. Sandy is BIG. And it doesn’t help that cold wind is blowing from Canada and a storm is coming in from the West at the same time. Did I mention that there will also be a full moon making the rising tides rise even higher in another day? These added attractions mean that Sandy will stick around through the middle of next week. For our part, nestled next to a floating dock at Seapath in Wrightsville Beach, we hear howling winds and watch the tide rise to cover some nearby islands (small and uninhabited). The torrential rains of last night have stopped for the moment. So we walked – were partially blown – to the ocean to check out the waves. It was a mile walk with the wind at our backs, but of course, all that wind smacked us pretty good in our faces on the way back to our nest.

This is the silver lining in the Sandy storm clouds for some Wrightsville Beach denizens. The big waves have brought out dozens of surfers to “enjoy” the fruits of Sandy. Never mind that the giant waves crash almost as soon as they form, and the surfers crash with them. We saw one surfer actually ride a big wave, rather expertly, but the rest were tossed about like so much driftwood. Still, they were fearless, maybe a bit reckless, but they were definitely not couch potatoes parked in front of HDTV watching eight hours of pro football. For the Admiral and me, it was a welcome antidote to cabin fever. Slow Motion is a warm, cozy, home on water, but nothing beats fresh air – even when it’s coming at you in 40 mile per hour gusts. This may be the biggest winds we get.

Sandy has moved farther off shore from North Carolina, as she plots her strategy for landfall on Monday somewhere near Philadelphia. Not that Sandy has a “brain”, but her “eye” is huge, so she can certainly see what she’s doing. And what she’s doing right now is scaring the living daylights out of most people in Maryland, Delaware, Pennsylvania and New Jersey. She’s big enough and strong enough to continue to harass us and other North Carolina boaters with her winds of 40 to 45 mph for the next few days. Last night, one boat sank in our marina. It was aptly named “Watertight Alibi”. We watched the SEATOW crew pull it back up out of the water. Now the investigation begins. Was it the rain? Was it the wind? Was it something totally unrelated to Sandy? Moral to this story: Don’t put “watertight” in your boat’s name. That’s just throwing down the gauntlet for a whimsical God, who sees the irony in sinking your boat, rather than “Leaky Bucket” in the slip next to you.

Sandy has been relatively kind to us, so far, and I don’t want to jinx that kindness – knock on this teak table – but she has been the most unpredictable storm in decades. So until she dissipates, really stops swirling and whirling around along the Coast, we’re on alert. Our concern now, however, is for our family and friends north of us. Winds are supposed to be 60 miles per hour in densely wooded Lusby and Solomons Maryland. Thank God Janie and Mike got the big generator this year. Two feet of snow are supposed to fall in West Virginia, which is right next to western Virginia, which is where Gretchen and Jem and Kat live on a mountain. They’re used to snow, just not in October and not accompanied by big winds. My sister and her husband are flying to Philadelphia today, because Butch’s mother is gravely ill. She stopped eating and drinking more than a week ago. That’s her choice, and Hospice is helping her with those decisions. It’s an extremely difficult time for her and the people who love her, so please, Sandy, if you have an “ear” and are listening, give the folks in the Lehigh Valley in Pennsylvania a break. Go around them. And while you’re at it, leave my brother and his wife alone in the Poconos. And don’t bother my niece and nephew in New Jersey or my nephew near Wilmington. Finally, I’m assuming you have a “heart” too, and you will spare Barbara and her family your wrath, as they watch over Mother Sonia in her final days.

All righty then, now I’m talking to a tropical storm. Pleading with a tropical storm. And I think the Admiral’s nuts when he starts talking to “Felicia”, the invisible flea in our salon carpet. Last night he said he taught her to “sit” for the crumbs he dropped. Actually, the Admiral has a great imagination, which can be extremely entertaining. I can see his reasoning: “If we can’t have dogs on Slow Motion, at least we can have their fleas.” I don’t mind, so long as they remain invisible.

But Sandy’s real. And she could be devastating. Don’t turn your back on her. Brace yourself for her winds. Stay out of her rains. And play in her snow, if you can.