97mph winds put sad ending to Dauphin Island Regatta
I woke still feeling uneasy about the weather. The air was heavy- hot, thick and hard to breathe. The clouds more like a mix of coal and cotton, the edges dripping, a classic sign of bad weather.
The red wing black birds and cardinals were gone. The horses and Muki donkey were at ease. but Boxi, the jack, was hiding in the donkey hut, far in the corner. He knew the air wasn't right.
The wolf pack too was uneasy. Oki would not stop barking. Her high pitch cries usually directed at squirrels or white cattle egrets, had no purpose but to warn the air.
Benno and I attended the art festival at St. Francis Episcopal on Dauphin Island. It was a pleasure to mingle with so many of our colleagues. But the mood was somber, the weather oppressive.
Driving to and fro, top down on the Miata, across the 3 mile span of the Dauphin Island Bridge, my pelicans, the graceful birds I sing Wagner's "Ride of the Valkyries" to, hugged the concrete span.
Dangerously close, their tail feathers dragging, sending imagined sparks in the air, my pelicans seemed to be deserting the Island. On our trip back one pelican was already smashed, blood spattered on the road home. The air did not lift this unfortunate bird out of harm.
At home, safe across the bay, I secured our animals and waited. The sky was dark by 3pm and at 3:15, a single lightening strike and thunder clap announced a full gale and rain. The pine and palm trees bowed to the East. The horses remained outside, choosing to not hide in their barns; they faced to the East as well, their backs to the rain. The donkeys huddled in their hut. The wolves hid in their blankets. We were all safe.
The storm lasted 30 minutes. Benno made sure one car would run- both convertibles have a knack of failing in moisture- and we left for the regatta ceremonies at Dauphin Island. Both of us had a knot in our stomach, hoping the sailors were safe.
The man paused, his face lost a little bit of its anger and he called to his wife, 'Hey what day is it today?'
She answered the 25th.
The red wing black birds and cardinals were gone. The horses and Muki donkey were at ease. but Boxi, the jack, was hiding in the donkey hut, far in the corner. He knew the air wasn't right.
The wolf pack too was uneasy. Oki would not stop barking. Her high pitch cries usually directed at squirrels or white cattle egrets, had no purpose but to warn the air.
Benno and I attended the art festival at St. Francis Episcopal on Dauphin Island. It was a pleasure to mingle with so many of our colleagues. But the mood was somber, the weather oppressive.
Driving to and fro, top down on the Miata, across the 3 mile span of the Dauphin Island Bridge, my pelicans, the graceful birds I sing Wagner's "Ride of the Valkyries" to, hugged the concrete span.
Dangerously close, their tail feathers dragging, sending imagined sparks in the air, my pelicans seemed to be deserting the Island. On our trip back one pelican was already smashed, blood spattered on the road home. The air did not lift this unfortunate bird out of harm.
At home, safe across the bay, I secured our animals and waited. The sky was dark by 3pm and at 3:15, a single lightening strike and thunder clap announced a full gale and rain. The pine and palm trees bowed to the East. The horses remained outside, choosing to not hide in their barns; they faced to the East as well, their backs to the rain. The donkeys huddled in their hut. The wolves hid in their blankets. We were all safe.
The storm lasted 30 minutes. Benno made sure one car would run- both convertibles have a knack of failing in moisture- and we left for the regatta ceremonies at Dauphin Island. Both of us had a knot in our stomach, hoping the sailors were safe.
What we found were discouraged, scared and worried people at the Alabama Fishing Rodeo dock. The sailors with large vessels were already moored before the gale hit. Their sails were ripped. Some boat hulls were damaged by bouncing against a neighboring boat. But the sailors were safe.
People moved about with cell phones to ears, trying to contact friends and family. Sad stories of missing sailors were passed around. At the time Benno and I learned a father and his two sons were capsized. The sons were rescued, The father missing. Other smaller vessels had capsized, sailors were being towed in. An all-woman crew called in saying they were safe and being towed in.
We returned to the parking lot. Benno a survivor of four hurricanes at sea, was heart fallen. He knows what it is like to face death in the waters.
Next to our car was a man on either side of a SUV, changing clothes, their wives shielding them. We learned these two men lost their 22' Catalina. Capsized and almost run over by another sailboat, the one fellow was angry, recalling his money clip, his slippers, his driver's license, their boat, were now all on the bottom of Mobile Bay.
Benno and I got in our car, and Benno nudged me and said tell that guy "Happy Birthday".
I did so.
The man paused, his face lost a little bit of its anger and he called to his wife, 'Hey what day is it today?'
She answered the 25th.
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