Pre Hurricane Dean
**So, we were just having a good time
We left for KCI Airport at 4 am with bleary eyes and an ache for sleep; only the hopes of sunny skies and blue Caribbean waters motivating us towards the bliss that is the airport.
There was a tropical Depression called Dean on the news. At the time, the air patterns weren’t stable and all those weather professionals didn’t feel a need to talk too much about it.
**Now
As I sit at this cozy pool-side bar just a few hundred feet from the Ocean (where our initial resort, Catch A Falling Star), I’m drinking a Red Stripe listening to these ‘weather’ professionals talk in urgent tones. It’s as if we’ve hit DefCon 4 and the nukes are coming in – it’s not a question of if we’ll get hit, but what will be left.
There will be lots of Jamaicans and less leaves.
**Then
It’s a beautiful island with a peaceful spirit that takes about 10 minutes to drift into.
Dennis, Ann, Kerry and I arrived early on the Island of Jamaica, about 11:45 am CT (same time in Kansas).
Our room is beautiful and simple. A ceiling fan and a floor fan are all the AC we have! The windows are screens with Cedar plank slats that can close if you feel you don’t have enough privacy. The staff politely warn of their coming by talking around the corner.
The view is as you see it. Almost nothing but Ocean. The thrushing crash of waves and water are non-stop; relaxation is imperative and only a matter of time. We arrived at Jamaica early, we had Red Stripe beer in the bus on the way to the resort and we were in the Ocean by 2:15 pm.
The bar tenders remembered our names almost instantly and made any drink you could possibly imagine. The food was amazingly good, home cooked food with a nice clean presentation. So far, I’ve had no trouble with the food. From the Aki and Saltfish breakfast to the BLT Kerry ordered, it tasted wonderful.
Kerry has picked several fruits up from either the ground or from locals. Aki and some seeded fruit I can’t spell (can barely understand the locals when they say it) and anything else that doesn’t look deadly (ask her about the fish tail palm tree seed she picked up; it’s poisonous and she just picked it right up).
Hurricane talk didn’t start right away. We had a full day of sun, swim and food before anyone thought about it seriously. All the locals were telling us not to worry about it. ‘No problem’ is really said as often as you imagine it would be. Oddly, it’s especially said when there is a problem.
Saturday evening, Dean had gone all the way from a quaint tropical depression to a Category 3/4 storm. The locals weren’t always saying ‘No problem’ anymore and we were starting to get word that we’d need to move to another resort to wait out the storm. Rumor about a Category 5 possibility was growing over the greater belief that the eye of the storm was going to cross us directly.
The eye of the storm is a peaceful center of exceptionally low pressure, sunny skies and calm skies. Just outside the eye, winds are moving around 145 mph or greater if it’s a category 5. That’s how the eyes of the Jamaicans are. In the center they keep it all calm, but just outside of the calm of their eyes is a solid fear.
**Segue (a tangential step from the current path)
‘Wolf’ or Rudolph as his Belgium name is spelled, sat quietly in the corner of Ivan’s Bar waiting for his wife to get off duty, drinking cool rum drinks in the mean time. He’s a Major in the Belgium Military, but he spends his time now as a security consultant for the island and also operates a Sky Diving service in Miami.
He’s a large fella’, he wears the title Major well. Belgium accent is not so thick that you can’t understand, but thick enough to grab that international flare that tells you — he’s a foreigner.
Just talking about with him on things people drag on about, we end up talking about deep sea fishing, American politics on the world stage, history of Greece and sailing.
Wolf isn’t married to his ‘wife’ but their child, Alexandria, is adorable. She’s bold and comfortable around us, we are the immigrants here. She tells us the story of when she drank all of her ‘pops’ rum drink and walked around the streets drunk at 3. She asks us all of our names and remembers them. She tells stories that get her father in trouble and it’s the most entertaining thing I’ve been apart of in a long time.
Wolf hands me his business card and writes down his number on the island. We are to call him and see if he’s got time for a fishing trip on his Catamaran (28 foot long). He’s gregarious and charismatic, I figure I should call sometime soon.
Hurricane Dean might have wiped that experience from our list, but we’ll see.
Wolf wasn’t too concerned about the hurricane, but he had taken the time to get his boat up a fresh water stream to tie it down. Kerry and I had thought it might have been nicer to spend the hurricane at his place.
The SeaStar Inn is a mud and rock road away from Catch a Falling Star, giving us a nice 500 foot buffer from the sea side. Our cliffs were about 40 foot off the ground and the locals tell us that the hurricane will bring the water over that wall.
Our room has boards over the windows and we can hear circular saws and hammers all around us. There is no evacuation — it’s an island. We stock up, build up the windows and walls, and hunker down.
I probably won’t post the after effects for another week. Everyone says electricity could be out for 3 to 4 weeks. That’s how long it was after Ivan. That’s what everyone talks about. Ivan, what Ivan did and how we are better prepared than we were for Ivan.
That’s a good line to hear… Hopefully it’s true!
No problem mon!