The diary of a storm warning

[Dimly Lit]

I found myself doing something that I haven’t done in quite a long time. I was actually writing words on a note pad. The lights had been flickering and the power was deciding whether to fade out completely. A new storm had arrived on the scene and it grew to be a long gray and blustery day.<P>For the northern coast, this series of low-pressure systems stacking to the horizon will be known as the Friday the 13th storm, as it arrived early in the morning hours. I guess one could say it was sort of a fitting tribute to a rather strange day. Weather forecasters began to call for a possible return of the sun by Wednesday, yet even that won’t last very long. Saturday the 14th was supposedly when the worst of the disturbance would arrive.<P>And the worst of it Mother Nature did deliver, right on schedule. I went for my usual 3-mile morning walk and practically watched this beast pour over the surrounding hills as the howling winds flew through the valley like a runaway freight train. It was kind of spooky, yet groovy too. There were telltale signs of the night before, and the rain that previously drenched the area. <P>Once I got home, the weather channel came on… just in time to see just how strong of a storm this had become. There were reports of 90 mile per hour winds along the northern Oregon coast. Low 50s were clocked in Crescent City and I am sure at times, it was blowing pretty hard down here as well. <P>Lights began to flicker soon after. Pretty soon a loud boom echoed through the neighborhood. A transformer had blown nearby. The scanner was turned on and I listened to dispatches from PG&E concerning downed power poles, lines and more transformer explosions. The city maintenance crews were out trying to get a jump on downed trees and flooding streets. <P>Then there was a moment, a brief instant where I was staring out the kitchen window while sipping a cup of hot coffee. As soon as I heard the monotone voice issue a “Storm Warning” for the entire coastal region, flashbacks of the winter of 1993 popped into my head. <P>NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE<BR>300 PM PST SATURDAY DECEMBER 14 2002<BR>…STORM WARNING SUNDAY… …HIGH SURF ADVISORY TONIGHT THROUGH EARLY WEDNESDAY… <BR>TONIGHT…SOUTH WIND 30 TO 40 KNOTS EARLY…WIND BECOMING SOUTHWEST AND DIMINISHING TO 25 KNOTS LATE… COMBINED SEAS 24 TO 26 FEET AT 17 SECONDS… SHOWERS AND ISOLATED THUNDERSTORMS…<BR>SUNDAY…SOUTHWEST WIND 20 TO 30 KNOTS…BECOMING SOUTH 40 TO 50 KNOTS LATE… COMBINED SEAS 25 TO 27 FEET AT 17 SECONDS… BUILDING TO 30 TO 33 FEET LATE… RAIN AND ISOLATED THUNDERSTORMS…<P>Back then, I would often catch myself watching the elements with coffee cup in hand. The NOAA weather band was this surf rat’s only available knowledge for local conditions. The monotone voice was always the determining factor in whether I’d be wave sliding on any given rainy day.<P>The lights flickered again and I decided that since I could not surf this time around, I’d sit down with a nice view of the outside world and write. Between the rain beating down on the rooftop and the howling wind, I felt inspired.<BR>

 

[Kalani]

You described last night well, I now wait for a call to do it again. We kept our grid up, with only a few outages from tree limbs. A few missed shorts that caused the usual loud boom and flash of light as I slammed in fuses with a hot stick...I could only smell 2 stroke chainsaw exhaust, fir, rain and lingering ozone...It's not bad...yet.

 

[Waldo]

Cool Post, DL.<BR>Reminds me of nights spent camping in my old VW van on the Central Coast, listening to the weather radio and the sound of the surf, unable to sleep cause of the anticipation for the next day.<P>Good luck in the storm. Hope you and yours get through it all intact.