Sailing through the storm…
C.E. Grundler
I had hoped we'd have the salon ceiling project all wrapped up over the weekend, but apparently, Mother Nature had other plans. I'll admit, I'd heard a rumor of the approaching snow, though I dismissed it as news hype, and figured we'd wind up with a few flakes to a dusting, and when the boat in question is stored indoors, other than temperature affecting epoxy set times, weather is of little concern. Or so I thought.
Saturday dawned grey and chilly, and we ate a hearty breakfast. I let the dogs out to the yard, and when they came in their coats were soaked. "Is it raining already?" my husband asked. "No. It's snowing." But not the flurries I'd expected. Within minutes the ground was white, coated with a layer of heavy, damp snow. In our neck of the woods they were projecting 1-3", but up by the boat in the Hudson Valley, it could reach 6-10". It wasn't as though we wanted to throw in the towel, but we both knew a slow set on the epoxy would bring work to a crawl.
The snowfall continued, and three hours later we'd already passed six inches, and that's when everything took a turn for the worse. Normally by this time of year most trees had turned and at least begun to shed their leaves. But after the excessively wet summer, only a few had begun to show their fall colors, and most in our heavily wooded area were still August lush with healthy green leaves – leaves now straining under unimaginably heavy snow. The weakest limbs went first, snapping with a sound like gunfire as they reached their limit and came crashing down, ripping power lines from houses and in some cases taking the entire utility pole with them as well. Electricity flashed blue outside our house and live wires lay across our lawn, and for the next few hours the snow continued to build, snapping more and more limbs. It sounded like a war-zone, and left the ground littered with splintered wood and high-voltage wires. Then the winds came, sending down the branches still hung up on other limbs.
By nightfall the worst was over, but the temperature was dropping and it was obvious we wouldn't be seeing power for some time to come. It was time to fire up the generator. Our space heater, ironically, was aboard the boat, but figuring we might be down for an extended time my husband disconnected the furnace from the house wiring and cut then end of an extension cord, providing the furnace power from the generator. The house was warm and with a gas stove hot meals weren't an issue, and neither were hot showers, with the gas hot water heater. A few lanterns provided plenty of light and board games provided entertainment. On Sunday morning hot coffee was percolating on the stove top while I cooked up the cold-cuts, onions and peppers into tasty omelet. Later that day I collected up some defrosting steaks, shoveled a path to the grill, lit the charcoal, and we had a wonderful barbeque.
Through this all, I listened over the radio to reports of the storm's extensive damage. Our power returned on Tuesday, but I know of many who still await their utilities. And while I'll admit while this storm caught me by surprise, (having a boat indoors has left me less in tune with the weather,) we rode it out with minimal inconvenience. I suspect that comes, in part, from years aboard boats. When we were restoring this house, we deliberately set it up to run exactly as it did in this sort of circumstance. Electricity is a convenience, but not a necessity. We're always provisioned with non-perishables, enough to live off for a few weeks if need be.
Years ago I heard someone say how sailors are useful people to have around – they always know how to fix things and make them work. And as I listen to news reports of people riding this out without heat, hot meals or showers, it makes me appreciate my sailing background that much more.
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