Hurricane Charley - A Punta Gorda Memory - Five Years After - Part 2 - Carol's Story - The Day She Left

After starting my hurricane Charley story I spoke to a few friends about their experiences.  One of them agreed to share her memories here as well.  Her posts will be interspersed with mine.  What follows, in her own words, is the first part of Carol's story covering the day before to August 13 at around 4 P.M.  She and her husband decided to leave Punta Gorda a few hours before Hurricane Charley barrelled into town.  

"On Thursday, August 12^th, the office was abuzz with constant news and updates on the storm.  Everyone was either glued to the internet or offering opinions.  I was one of the former, relying on my brother, who is employed by the County of Miami Dade, as an IT analyst.  I was captivated by the seriousness of the situation, yet confident that whatever the outcome, it would start a new chapter in my life in Florida.

The office closed early that day to give employees time to secure homes and/or to evacuate.   I considered myself to be one of the lucky ones; my husband was already busy at home, cutting plywood to cover the windows.  My male counterparts still faced that task as they left the office.  For a moment, I felt superior to all those men who seemed to get ahead of me professionally.   Everyone in the office was on pins and  needles as they scurried from desk to desk, comparing to-do lists or brushing the coming event off  as just another storm coming through the Gulf.   Some took their position with pride offering small tidbits of advice for those of us who had never experienced a hurricane.  Most started packing up and leaving to get home to their families and storm preparation, not really knowing what to expect next.

When I got home, my husband, Ron was almost done with the windows, taking breaks to flip between the weather channel and the local news.  We acted on everyone’s good natured advice and pulled together our paperwork, photographs, and cameras, things that had sentimental value and placed them in totes and suitcases.  Patio furniture was moved into the house, ceiling fan blades were removed and any loose items found around the house were pulled up, nailed down or taken inside.  The 2 ½ car garage was reorganized and suddenly there was space for one  of our cars.  Amazing.   

The next morning, August 13,  we awoke to clouds and wind.  If we didn’t know any better, we’d welcome the weather, a break from the hot humid days Floridians are accustomed to during the summer months.  Immediately, we put the news on and were stunned at the amount of coverage the storm was receiving.  The phone began ringing off the hook as worried family and friends called from as far as Maine to procure our safety.  I spoke to my brother who was working that day.  He warned me that the storm was predicted to get stronger with dangerous surges possible and winds expected to topple rooftops.  

We remained glued to the TV and the radio, absorbing every piece of information.  I was making  sandwiches with what  was left in our refrigerator when the storm took a jarring turn towards us  across Captiva Island.  The radio announced that Punta Gorda was now in a state of emergency,  and that all residents were being asked to remain wherever they were to ride out the hurricane, including all emergency personnel.  Regardless, it was our last opportunity to leave, and so we instantly made the decision to abandon the house and head for the East Coast.  We knocked on our neighbor’s door and exchanged cell phone numbers.  It was 2:25 p.m. and the storm had become a Category 3. 

The skies blackened behind us as our car screeched out of Punta Gorda heading East on Rte#29, towards Lake Okeechobee.  The roads were completely empty. Teeming rain had already formed deep puddles along the sides of the road.  We hesitated through stop signs, but it was clear that no one in their right mind was coming from either direction.  Traffic lights blinked as we drove through them.  There wasn't a soul anywhere.  When we reached Clewiston, we stopped to regroup and eat our sandwiches, grateful we made as far as we did, safely.  

We listened to the radio as it announced the storm took a turn into Charlotte Harbor.  A sense of relief washed over us as we watched the residents of Clewiston preparing for the storm.  

Anxious to reach my parents house in Miami, we got back in the truck and resumed normal speed the rest of the trip.  I used my cell phone to call a few co-workers to tell them of our decision to leave. I could hardly hear them as they huddled in their closets while the storm raged outside.  I couldn't believe I was actually talking to someone in their closet.  This was not good."

(More of the Hurricane Charley Story)