Hurricane Fun In Baja 1995
Gigantic pounding waves inspired me to leave the comfort of an air-conditioned office, at the small seaside resort I worked at, and see for myself the epic size surf, which were so enormous I could feel the vibrations of each boom!
I was lazily making my way around the cute little resort and couldn’t help but notice a small army of workers expertly placing each lounge chair in the pool. Yes, IN the pool. All the outdoor patio furnishings, including the smaller drink tables, were being individually sunk to the bottom of each pool! (Remember, smart phones were not yet invented for a winning photo Op) Clearly, this sunken mound of white plastic was not going to be for some wild treasure hunt. It was September 4th, 1995, and the hot muggy air was thick with salt misting from the ever-increasing crashing waves.
We were smack dab in the center of hurricane season.
Our little fishing village of Cabo San Lucas had already suffered through the intimidation of hurricane Flossie, a baby sized category 1, which blasted just west of our sandy coastline a few weeks prior. We were not prepared for Flossie so once she opened her flood gates of water did we scramble to put all our patio furniture and flower pots away just in case there was enough wind to carry them through windows. She took her sweet time traveling northwest and we all welcomed her much needed rain. Flossie stuck around for 3 long days and luckily we didn’t have to endure her mighty inner rings of powerful winds up to 95mph.
Our Baja dessert is dry and parched for most of the year and the mountain reservoirs are thirsty for the mere 15 days of rain we get. These underground canyons provide the Los Cabos area with water for the year.
Home I go and tell my New York husband (who knows everything) that there is talk at work that we are ‘red zoned’ for a direct hurricane hit and we better get prepared. I recounted how ridiculous it all looked with bulges of white plastic lounge chairs overflowing each of the pools in preparation for the big hurricane now named Henriette. Our little casa is right on the beach about 50 yards from the waters edge and vulnerable to wind and surf surges. He was guffawing and chortled saying he doubted very much a hurricane was coming and recounted, with authority, the direction that Hurricane Flossie took veered west ‘like they all do’. He also said that his boat captain buddies expertly advised him we had nothing to worry about. ‘After all, we have had no hurricanes since 1992 and even Flossie travelled northwest of Cabo. Honey, there is nothing to worry about.’ (Famous last words)
We had just put all the planters and outdoor patio furnishings back in place so I had no desire to duplicate the chore. I dropped the whole thing. (Big Mistake)
Some simple hurricane preparedness tips had been circulating around town and I paid serious attention to it all because the first year I had arrived to Cabo we had an unexpected horrendous rainfall that wreaked mass destruction in the entire Los Cabos area. It was November 3rd, 1993, and 30 inches fell within a 24 hour period and the storm was not even classified a tropical depression. I awoke in the night, around 4:30 am (No Squid Roe fun that night) to thundering sounds of ‘I didn’t know what’ and went out the balcony to investigate and realized it was an impenetrable waterfall of pouring rain making such a loud noise. At that very moment the electricity went out and I was instantly afraid. I was mesmerized and watched the rain pour like nothing I had ever seen. I couldn’t imagine what type of damage was to be revealed the next day.
Windy sisters, Flossie and Henriette
When morning arrived it was still raining and many of us gathered around the Marina Sol lobby area commiserating like little refugees marveling at what Mother Nature is capable of. The underground parking lot was flooded in four feet of water and the one-acre center pool and grass area was completely submerged. Reports were coming in via the few CB radios as to the kind of destruction already being reported.
The brand new four-lane highway was torn apart, the raging water sent chunks and entire mountainsides swept into the ocean. Flooding was instant and entire neighborhoods were destroyed being buried under tons of sand and mud. Cars were dragged and pushed and piled upon each other at the edge of every corner.
Once the rain settled down a bit we were able to walk through town and see for ourselves the level of destruction. Shocking sites of flooded streets and a rushing river still gushing down the Centre of town naturally making way to the marina and out to sea. Electric poles were lying around like match sticks and sand and brown murky water covered everything. The beach was littered piles of wood and palm trees and debris of every size and shape. The normally pristine aqua blue water was now a boiling frothy dirty brown for hundreds of yards off shore. We were walking in a brown and white world, surreal, without color, as everywhere we looked was brown.
Even with all that rainfall we were still withering in the relentless heat and humidity. No relief in sight.
Hurricane Preparation list:
Drinking water
Propane tank for BBQ
Full tank of gas for car (Baja will run out of gas if roads are impassable for tankers)
Candles and batteries for flashlights
Stock up on canned goods
Ice for coolers
Sheets of plywood to board up windows
Have a ‘safe room’ to ride out the worst winds
First aid kit
Radio with new batteries (Need to know Spanish)
Who knew you had to think ahead for a natural disaster? I was from Edmonton, Alberta where snowstorms and cold weather would cause a day or two of missed school but I don’t ever recall needing to be prepared for weather issues. (Oh, I just remembered we had to have a flashlight and blanket in the trunk of the car just in case we broke down – at night – in the winter – on a rural road – note to self - good reason to move to Cabo)
Hurricane Henriette was making her way slowly, at 9mph, directly toward us but we had no way to find out her expected path. The rain had started and dark ominous clouds were gradually making their way towards us. We had an unobstructed view over the Sea of Cortez, facing southeast, with the entire front of the house being windows. Yes, all windows. The rain was coming in waves and the surf surge was an awesome sight. Each pounding wave reverberated beneath our feet every 12 seconds.
My youngest was turning 7 on September 5th, so I baked a yummy chocolate cake with creamy chocolate icing for the big party the next day. We were going to our favorite kids birthday party place, Squid Roe (Yup – all those wood chips on the floor, cheap tacos, great music and crazy fun waiters, clean up included, made this the best party place for kids)
The kids, aged 7, 11 and 13, two Cabo mutts, and I had some fun running around the beach getting soaked by the glorious rain and chasing the surf line back and forth between each surge. After bath time, we had a delicious fish dinner settled in to watch a VCR Disney movie. (No television, phones, or Internet) We had the air conditioning running on overdrive as the heat was unbearable. We didn’t even notice the barometric pressure was falling fast.
At 5 am, I awoke to a startling screeching sound and one I will never forget. The grinding metal on metal was deafening and my New Yorker, who was already up, yelling at me to hurry and get away from the windows. I noticed he (lovingly) had put a row of pillows along the edge of the bed between the ‘wall to wall’ windows and me. His idea of protecting me in case the window broke. He was herding the kids and dogs into the laundry room and sounding frantic. Our neighbor was standing in the living room holding a flashlight asking what can he do to help prepare? Too late – we were inside Henriette’s path and about to know her powerful wrath up close and personal. I yelled, ‘get the cake, get the cake’, which he did and slid the last few feet into the cramped laundry room.
There we all were, huddled together, breathing each other’s heavy air, awaiting the windows to shatter and splinter everywhere slicing through everything with the powerful wind. The screaming sound of windows and metal rubbing was constant and frightening. Every few minutes we would send one of the men out to grab something we felt we needed. They sprinted for much needed supplies: water and drinking glasses, knife for the cake, chips, paper towels, pillows to sit on, and … OH MY GOD the new Macintosh computer was on the kitchen table and we had to get it! (I just paid big bucks for our first computer)
We witnessed in awe the windows bowing and stretching from their frames at least 6 inches. (Myth Busters kind of amazing) Who knew windows could bend so much. The water was pouring in and flooding the living room and would soon reach us in the laundry area. The adrenalin supercharged our senses and we continued to huddle and wonder how many more hours we would have to endure.
All of a sudden the wind stopped. It was late afternoon and we were grateful the windows held up and it was all over. Phew! We slowly surveyed the damages. Wet floors, beds soaked, chairs and patio table missing but otherwise only elbow grease was needed to clean it all up. (When do I say ‘I told you so’) We were desperate for coffee and without power wondered how we could manage making hot water. AHA! We had a friends travel trailer sitting out back on the sand dune and so we all trotted up there to figure out how to turn on the propane tanks to get the little stove working. As we were fiddling around making coffee it dawned on us that the storm is NOT over yet and we just might be in the EYE of the storm. Yup, we were right.
Holy Crap hurry up and get this coffee made, restock the laundry room with food and water, find the kids and dogs and get the hell back to the safeness of our laundry room. The wind started without warning and the palm trees were now bent to the ground facing the opposite direction! We spent the entire night nestled tightly in the laundry room, drifting in and out of sleep wanting the noise and wind to stop. Morning came and once again, we were so darned lucky to make it through the worst winds, category 2 at 110 mph, without the windows blowing to shreds.
Within a few days we had the house semi back to normal and along with hundreds of other families were without electricity and water for many days. Arroyos filled with rushing rivers cutting off all access to town. No school for the kids. (Darn) Of course the large hot tub on the deck, now full of water, served as our make shift shower and water dunks for emergency toilet flushes. Hot and sweaty, we lived by candlelight (had to conserve the few we had found) and were overcome with JOY the day the electricity returned so we could sleep in air conditioning.
It didn’t take long for our town to clean up the streets and life became normal again. The highway was all torn up and would take at least a year to repair, but we were counting down the days to October 15th when the weather shifts and we no longer dart for air-conditioned rooms.
Less then ten days later I arrived home from work and found my New Yorker frantically putting flowerpots and our NEW outdoor patio furniture into the house. He said, “Hurricane Ismael is on her way”. (He learned fast)