Ike, Take A Hike

The Atlantic Basin is busy again. The parade of late summer tropical systems have begun the relentless march from east to west. As I watch storm tracks and spaghetti models change every few hours, I'm reminded of the realities of living in paradise. It's been two years since I left Florida, but with loved ones still on the peninsula, my attention is never far from developing weather that threatens the Sunshine State.


Ike, a dangerous major hurricane spinning in the Caribbean, is shaping up to be a very real threat to not only Florida, but the Bahamas, Turks and Caicos, and once again, the Gulf states. Today's 5pm forecast put the cyclone in the Gulf by next week, headed for storm-weary New Orleans. But the threat to Florida remains. There is simply no certainty to unpredictable storm tracks. Landfall predictions remain a mystery.

Hurricane amnesia has not yet set in for me. I remember watching, waiting, wondering. I lived for the updates from the National Hurricane Center, posted on the web every six hours. At ten minutes to the hour I'd reload repeatedly until the next update was available. During hurricane season, life was on hold. Do I have everything I'll need in my emergency kit? Will I have enough water? Will we lose power? Will I lose clients if I'm out of commission for a week, or more? Should I evacuate? Where will I go? Will the house be OK if we leave? What about looters? Can I survive the humid summer heat without air conditioning?

I don't ask these questions any more, but I worry about friends and family in Florida. I listen to them asking the same questions. There's little I can do to alleviate their anxiety. It's the waiting that's hardest. At least I don't sleep with my computer anymore, waking in the middle of the night to check updates. It's no way to live.

Ike, take a hike.