Remembering Hugo

When a hurricane which has its eye and path on you and is bigger than the state you live in, then it's probably a good time to leave Charleston, SC.

Nope, I stayed. Fortunately, I don't regret doing so. I had lived at the coast and several other places in Charleston, but now I was about six miles inland, a stones throw from the Ashley River. Those six miles didn't make one bit of difference in most regards.

I had been through five hurricanes before - two direct hits in Florida. I didn't believe any of those were anywhere near what was about to happen.

I remember the effects of Hugo beginning about an hour or two before sunset on Thursday, September 21, 1989. I had gotten home in time to batten down and secure anything I thought needed it.

I've written stories about Hugo, but I'll keep this short with ye olde bullet points.

• After sunset, I was on the telephone with my mother who was vacationing in Bar Harbor, Maine when a tree took out a second floor patio I was standing near. It was obvious because all I could see were branches and leaves through the French doors. She asked what the noise was and I said, "Oh nothing. I'm fine. But, I think I need to go check on something. Have fun in Maine. Bye." I then retreated to the safe room (laundry room on the first floor almost in the center of the house), next to the stash of adult beverages, to begin cutting and whittling dinner candles. (I was one of the last ones to the store.)
• I hadn't lived there long, but I met all my neighbors in my cul de sac during the eye of the storm. And, I wasn't the only one enjoying adult beverages. The water was above our knees and it wasn't from a tidal surge up the Ashley River, but rather all the rainfall and the fact that every storm drain was already field with debris.
• I didn't wonder out into the hurricane, but something got my curiosity and I decided to slightly open an exterior door during the back half of Hugo. I tried to position my body so I could maintain some inward force on the door as I opened it and Hugo almost took my arm off. I would understand in the morning. "Okay, let's wait for quite a while to do that again." I thought.
• Late in the storm I heard a loud crashing noise upstairs. I entered the furthest bedroom, the one where the overhead light fixture was providing a nice waterfall (hole now in roof) for the bed, and discovered a broken branch, still attached to its tree, was undulating in and out of the window. It is not easy, nor fun, trying to nail a piece of plywood to a window frame when your back is holding it up to the window. Picture it.
• The morning was beautiful - well, the weather was. There wasn't a tree on the property not damaged or down. There were also seven other holes in the roof beyond the one which had been supplying the newly renovated bedroom with water.  
• I took a few days to do what I could at home, checked in with my Navy command and thanks to Michael D, one of the most popular DJs in Charleston and somewhat of a friend, I began my relief effort. Through some broadcasts we were able to recruit some volunteers and they were fantastic. I probably have more stories from this than anything else involving Mr. Hugo.
• We collected food and essentials from donors and headed out to Awendaw and McClellanville several times over several days. These two areas received everything Hugo had to offer.
• I was helping someone clean up their property (12 to 14 feet waterlines in the home) in McClellanville and I discovered it was his vacation home. Other people needed more help. I apologized, excused myself and the homeowner understood.
• One of the most enthusiastic volunteer's father was a minister at a church on Highway 17 and this became a meeting and transfer location for us. I believe this girl had wings.
• There was a huge disparity between housing and incomes east of Highway 17 (nearest the water) and west of it. After heading west and traveling some sand roads and seeing a house so small it was completely taken out by a live oak, we stayed west of the highway. We returned to the church one time and found the sanctuary full of donations and a semi trailer half full. Well, it was doing no good sitting there so we loaded up and headed west again, and again.
• Power Parties were thrown by friends who had gotten power back for those who had not and they were a blast. And, I went to plenty of them because I went without power (natural gas did help) for 28 days. The main power line which fed the neighborhood was in the Ashley River. 

There are so many things I remember from during and after Hugo, but the most memorable is all the Charlestonians I saw not moaning and bitching, and helping one another.

Oh, I can't forget the large white wooden boat that looked somewhat dry-docked right off of Highway 17 just before crossing, I believe, the South Santee River. It had been there for as long as I remember and hadn't budged, but for months after Hugo, it was hilarious to see people pull over to get a picture it as if it had landed completely upright and in such good condition.