Ida has accelerated and intensified overnight now already a category 4 scheduled to make landfall at Grand Isle just after 1:00pm this Sunday, August 29. Communities in New Orleans outside the levee system have been evacuated. Still, mayor LaToya Cantrell did not call for a city wide evacuation citing “too little time.” Morgan City could see a storm surge inundation of 10-15'. Baton Rouge could see record wind speeds during Ida. Since recording began, there have never been sustained winds over 74mph, the threshold for a category 1. There is no longer any room to doubt the immanence and intensity of Hurricane Ida in South Louisiana and Baton Rouge.
Anticipation
We heard first word of a storm brewing in the Caribbean Wednesday evening. Then, it was only a tropical depression with no name. At this point, there was little reason to believe we would have a significant storm in Baton Rouge or even Louisiana. Still, I was and excited and early on gave the unnamed storm a piece of my heart.
Thursday, there was not much more reason to believe the storm was coming to us other than it becoming a tropical storm with the name Ida. However, by Friday, Ida had become a category 1 soon after traveling over Cuba. Its trajectory towards Louisiana had not changed. Now it was time to at least consider preparation.
I rode all around Baton Rouge this second day before the storm to Walmart, Calvins and Calandros. Though I was thinking of lunch more than the impending hurricane. It was evident when I woke that there was a storm somewhere in the gulf. Instead of the usual stifling heat and humidity we had been blessed with a cool breeze; blessed with sweet relief. Everyone else must have felt the cool and, realizing the oddity, felt the need to prepare as the stores were packed with many items out of stock.
“Sir, you need a mask!” I was told at Walmart. “No I don’t but thank you!” I replied before briskly walking past to continue shopping. In the checkout line, I explained to a lady the difference between Science as an institution and science as a process of reasoning. She had pointed out that most everyone was wearing a mask. I pointed out that I wasn’t. She asked if I was a scientist. Yes, I am 100% a scientist, why are you not?
I made it to Calvins around 1:00pm for some chicken salad of which they seemed to have plenty. Tru and Miranda went a few hours later for the same product but had come too late; it was all sold out. Tru heard someone say they had sold 1,400 lbs of chicken salad.
At Calandros on government I was chased out of the store by the rent-a-cop. I had tried to shop without my mask but he tracked me down, following me through the store making sure I was wearing it properly to his specifications. He did not like how I removed it after I had paid. I grabbed my bike in stride with my little paper bag of soppressata and havarti cheese, running out the door hearing his pounding footsteps behind me. “I’ll tase you!” he yelled. It would have been a tough shot for him to catch me around the backpack I was wearing. 1, 2, 3, I jumped on my bike and peddled away with him close behind before giving him a big nasty finger as I zipped onto the neighborhood street. Priorities.
Saturday morning, there was no doubt. The storm was intensifying, headed still towards Louisiana. Many people left New Orleans and many others left Baton Rouge. For most of the day, I-10 West was gridlocked all the way to, and at times past, Lafayette. If people were not leaving to escape Ida, they left to escape the inevitable power outages or, in some cases, leaving simply for a chance to vacation. Boring!
Sunday morning I woke early to rain but not much wind. The radio said that Ida had “exploded” overnight gaining speed and increasing in intensity. Soon, Tru and Miranda were up. We went walking around the BetR and Duvics, both closed in preparation. The rain had stopped but the wind was growing stronger.
By noontime, just before landfall, most was relatively calm. We sat in-between the interstate and watched the trucks woosh past under the troubled, gray sky. We noted the pigeons all gathered on the power lines seemingly unaware of the impending intensity.
We all walked back to Tru's. The wind was growing stronger now. I had some yogurt for breakfast while Miranda made us Cafe Cubanos. Tru and I buttoned the yard placing most everything in the shed. We considered ourselves ready for the storm.
Ida
By 2:00pm Ida had made landfall (we supposed). We certainly felt the oncoming storm. The wind was strong with little to no rain. Tru, Miranda and I walked the neighborhood for a good last look before the storm.
The sky was beautifully angry. Clouds rolling fast blocked all view. Like blitzing sentries they rushed past moving faster as the storm approached. It was a wild time to be alive in this place. It is difficult to take on the true significance of a hurricane until the wind is actually whipping the trees violently. Now, the wind was still mild and our only fear was for the future. We knew the storm was now bearing down on us, becoming real and slowly showing us what it may be capable of.
We walked under the oak trees: first the one directly North of Tru's where we met Andy and her husband. Next we went over the ridge to Edwards Park (or so we called it). Here there is a clearing between Edwards St. that is crowned by two large, elderly oaks. We watched the trees and sat in the clearing to feel the storms wind and light rain.
Soon, we returned to the house before splitting up for a while
It was now 3:30. I went on my own south down Eugene towards the interstate. It felt like a long walk so I took it briskly, comfortable in my boots and old blue longsleeve.
The storm was picking up but soon I was under the interstate at the railroad tracks. Here, the interstate above seemed to provide some shelter from the wind. I stood on the tracks watching it buffet the concrete column, their gaps filled with trees and foliage.
Under the interstate is a grand representation of our infrastructure. No longer did it thunder with cars and trucks. Now it thundered with the sound of the wind striking this super-structure that is Interstate 10.
I went to leave but stayed feeling there was something to learn. I felt I must give something up. It was my ragged old true-blue tee (longsleeve) that I loved maybe too much. It was washed out with holes a-plenty. I loved it but it was time to let it go as an act of sacrifice. I walked back along the tracks to Tru's now a new man with no shirt. I met up with my friends back home and donned a new shirt.
We three stayed home for a while. Tru and Miranda moved the furniture from the patio. I sat for a while, upstairs, outside on the couch watching the storm grow.
We regrouped downstairs and started out for another walkabout. For the last hour Tru and I had been unimpressed by the storms rate of increase. It was after 6:00 now, approaching 7:00. The wind was relatively mild still but the rain was more consistent. It was still light out as we walked; this time to the creek behind Catholic Life. At the creek more clothing was sacrificed. This time by Miranda who threw Tru’s broken summer flips into the creek. Tru walked back content with nothing but his swimsuit.
We walked towards the Perkins Overpass. Either the storm worsened or we began to take it more seriously. At Tru's meager protest, we did not explore under the overpass instead retreating to the safety of his house.
At 2920 S Eugene we sat outside as the sun set behind the clouds. We knew this by the time and the distinct golden hue in the sky slowly darkening. It would stay dark throughout the remainder of the storm.
In the twilight we stayed outside in the last of the light. The storm was still increasing but we still had power and a growing confidence in the face of Ida. The weather, aside from its unusual madness, was cool and breezy for August.
As darkness fell we retired inside. We still had power. I used the dryer to dry my shirt and shorts. Soon I changed into warm sweatpants and casual shoes. Throughout the early evening, Tru and I poked our heads out often to keep track of the storm. We imagined the axis relative to the moving clouds to guess where the eye may be.
The storm grew as the evening progressed, bringing strong winds that whistled at the door. In the dark the lit sky was purple with clouds racing southwest underneath. Tru and I squatted in the front watching the wateroak. We were ready to jump as we described to each other what the face of God might look like.
Later, we settled inside. We were no longer thinking of God having already braced for his wrath many times. We never lost power. Through the night we cooked, played loud music, and stayed cool in the air conditioning. On our playlist was Tame Impala, Gustav Holst, The Grateful Dead, Gill Evans and Led Zeppelin’s When The Levee Breaks.
Many times the power surged and many times it returned. I was thankful to be at Tru's for such a time to be in such comfort.
As the night continued, we did lose internet but swiftly replaced it with 4G service.
As the night grew late we the storm began to dissipate. By midnight we could see from the direction of the moving clouds above the Ida had passed.
After a movie we all went to bed. Once I had settled in there was a loud cracking near by but nothing else after.
Aftermath
I woke to a relatively sunny morning, the storm was gone for good. On the radio I heard that 170,000 homes in Baton Rouge had lost power; 170,000 homes but not us on Eugene St. For perspective, the total population of the city is only 220,000 people. Most of Baton Rouge had gone dark.
The entire city of New Orleans was also without power. A tower for power lines over the river leading into the city had fallen. Still, the city survived with little flooding if significant wind damage.
Grand Isle had been obliterated as was most of Louisiana's deep south. One person on the radio described a flyover as like looking at piles of matchsticks.
Our friend Illich was our first refugee. Coming early looking for power when I was still the only person in the house that was awake. Illich lives in the apartments next the old Shopper's Value / Ralphs Market on Jones Creek near Tiger Bend. They had lost power late in the night during the worst of Ida.
Illich sat with me on the balcony. I shared some coffee with him. He charged his devices and I made another pot to drink. There was not much to discuss so we sat and listened to the radio while I napped here and there.
I spoke with Sheila next door. The loud crack I had heard as I went to sleep was her back fence ripped apart and now laid over.
Bradley and Jacob came by but left soon after when there was not much going on other than my intermittent snoozing on the couch as Illich sat in near silence sipping on coffee.
Later, after noon, Tru and Miranda woke. Illich was still around and we all went for a walk to see the damage wrought on the neighborhood. This spot, I've always known, is the nicest place I have stayed at in Baton Rouge. Ida made this blatantly evident: no loss of power and no significant damage along our route.
We walked again to the creek behind the diocese. I took more photos of Tru and Miranda. They look good together and I had faith the photos would develop well.
We all had lunch. Illich left as we started the anime movie Akira, mostly slept through by Miranda and me while Tru stayed awake.
This day and the next flew by. We had all the food we needed and wanted not (except maybe for internet but this was really a nice disconnect). Our friends Jacob and Hasan had also sought refuge from power outages in New Orleans. We all played board games and watched movies. They were good company.
On Wednesday I went for a comprehensive tour of Baton Rouge and destruction Ida had wreaked upon it.
I started out with my dad. We drove across Baton Rouge searching for gas. We had a half-tank plus a couple of cans. We really did not need any more. I suppose that we were more curious than anything. When a station did have gas the lines would trail through the lot, around the building and down the street. There was even on report of a man in Central who was shot in the arm for the offense of cutting in line. I am fairly certain there were many such incidents this week in Louisiana.
The boys at Vertical called us to a CircleK on Evangeline and Plank to help remove a fallen tree in the parking lot. We were deep in the north side of Baton Rouge. This was a wild place to be in the aftermath for a group so pale as us. As was south Baton Rouge, the north was still mostly without power and people were desperate for gasoline. Needless to say, we very quickly cut and cleared the tree to get the hell out of there before any real trouble found us.
Dad and I jetted to the store on Nicholson to again board up the store after it had been broken into a second time. There was not much to do but reattache the OSB plywood. As we were leaving one of our less courageous crew members was spooked by some undesirables looking for gasoline.
Afterwards we went for lunch at Smalls in Tigerland and called it for the workday.
Later that night, friends and company patronized our neighborhood bar Duvic‘s. There were many people ready to relax and forget their sufferings caused by Ida. We found a new pool table and were very glad for it. Its predecessor was old and uneven. I shot with Tru, Scott, and Miranda.
This was the best way we could hope to finish an epic experience of the mighty storm Ida.
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