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Surviving Ivan!
The week of 7 September 2004, CNN and NBC gave repeated updates of the progress of Hurricane Ivan. Those on Grand Cayman paid little or no attention. After all, hurricanes never hit the island; the last one was in 1932!! Like the storm that hit the UK in 1987, the weathermen were unable to predict Ivan’s path. No one was concerned.
By 11 September people started to become edgy as reports came in of the unpredictability of Ivan. Some started to board up their homes, some managed to board flights off the island, tourists were still arriving! That afternoon diving was cancelled. The waves hitting the reef were starting to stir troubled waters in the lagoon.
By 12 September people were afraid. What if?? Could it happen? Are we prepared? We were to find out.
That afternoon guests at Ocean Frontiers were told to pack enough food and clothes for 24 hours. We would be taken to a shelter as a precaution.
The shelter was a civic hall, with a fully equipped kitchen, toilets and hosepipe that served as a shower. It also had an independent diesel generator and air conditioning. The latter considered a necessity on Grand Cayman.
There were 60 people altogether, laughing, joking, chatting and looking fairly relaxed. It was an adventure. A story to tell, to laugh about when we returned home.
That evening the hurricane hit. A category 5 and allegedly the most destructive hurricane ever. The wind howled round the building and crashes were heard outside. Unease spread, as we couldn’t see out, so we had no way of knowing what was happening. Then, at midnight, water started seeping through and under the fire door. Towels were donated to soak up the water.
An hour later an emergency was announced. Two families were outside and needed shelter. The door would have to be opened. The wind was already at 100 mph. It took half an hour to pull the 20 refugees into safety; soaked, in shock and extremely scared. Their houses had just blown away in the hurricane winds. Those in the shelter showed their compassion by donating any dry, clean clothes they had; while others tried to comfort the families.
The wind picked up and by 4.00am seawater was pouring through the fire door and floor. Water cascaded through a light switch and the fire door bowed inwards. At the same time water had started to penetrate the roof and ceiling panels started to sag and then fall. There was no time to think. For six hours we mopped water continuously, chain-gang style, while others removed ceiling panels before they fell down. Another group took an internal door off its hinges to reinforce the bowing fire door. The generator failed. The hall went dark. The air conditioning stopped. There was no running water. The toilets wouldn’t flush. There was no electricity. The wind screamed and rain hammered. Three volunteers went out into the still raging winds to try and fix it.
After three hours and some improvisations, they were successful; a loud cheer went up. The lights and cooler air lifted peoples’ spirits instantly. In the meantime, some Caymanians had completed some improvisations of their own and delivered both breakfast and lunch to the 80 people in the shelter.
Towards 4.00pm the surf and rain had eased and mopping duties were reduced to hourly. The respite was heavenly, and the inhabitants of the shelter started to relax. By 9.30pm people were starting to make their beds and fall asleep.
At 1.00am that morning I awoke to the sound of sobbing. There was another storm raging outside and water had started to seep through the fire door again. Immediately the mopping crew reformed and started to mop the water, assessing the volume and arranging a rota to control it. Most of that day was spent monitoring the building and listening to the wind outside. At lunchtime, a small party went out to recce the East End. After a couple of hours they returned, soaked through, with some digital pictures of the devastation outside. After some debate, it was agreed to show them. The damage was horrific. Houses blown down, pylons with their wires stretched across the remains of the road, beaches destroyed and created. There was a stunned silence. No one had ever dreamed this could happen. Not on Grand Cayman. Hurricanes didn’t hit Grand Cayman. Well, not since 1932.
Later that afternoon our group went to Ocean Frontiers. The wind was still strong enough to blow us over and the sand stung our legs as we picked our way through debris; a child’s boat, coconuts, a mattress, trees, clothes, rubble, holes in the road. A bulldozer went past, sweeping it all aside like snow.
When we reached Ocean Frontiers, the ground floor condos were gutted, their contents spread across what was left of the car park and road. The condos on the top floor were flooded; their ceilings collapsed. Those on the middle floor were only flooded, although water was already seeping through from the rooms above. All our belongings were soaked, including the clothes we stood up in.
We hurriedly packed our cases and put them into our hire car. Staying at the condo wasn’t an option, as looting had been reported, so we returned to the shelter where we spent another night, albeit more peacefully.
Morning dawned early. Our group discussed the fact that water and food was scarce at the shelter and that we needed to get off the island. There were no communications, even mobile phones refused to work. We decided to try and get to the airport and see if there was a flight or any news.
The drive to George Town was awful. Everywhere we looked was devastated; homes, cars, cemeteries, roads. When we arrived at the airport we were told it was closed and the island was under martial law. We had to be off the streets by 6.00pm or we could be shot! The policeman (a young man on a “cushy” exchange from the Met) didn’t look like he was kidding. He’d seen looting the previous night and wasn’t taking any chances. Since he was armed, neither were we.
Our first priority was to find shelter and water. Alex, our trip organiser, had a condo in George Town, and although the caretaker was using it, she found us another empty condo. The group split into teams. Some to find water and food, others to mop and clean the condo and see what food could be found in the kitchen.
By 2.00pm we had regrouped, with both teams having some success. We then agreed to go back to the airport and see what was happening. Off we set, suffering a punctured tyre on the way, a blessing really as when we stopped to change the tyre, we obtained a mobile phone signal, the first for four days. Hasty phone calls were made to reassure parents, then off we set again.
By the time we arrived there were about 200 people queuing for a flight to anywhere. The options were Cayman Brac or Miami. At 5.40pm we were lucky to get a flight to Miami. We didn’t hesitate. We handed over our bags, had a large blue sticker slapped on our chests and boarded the plane. The rest of the group managed to board a private jet to Nassau.
We were relieved, we were lucky - we were safe! Oh, and did we need a shower!!!!!
If you would like to see what happened to East End, there are pictures on www.amustard.com/ivan and www.eastend.demon.co.uk and there are up to date reports on www.caymannetnews.com.
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