Memories

Current national news regarding the typhoon that has struck the Philippines brings back memories.  Can’t say they are ‘fond’ memories, but they are vivid. 

In May, 1976 I had been living on Guam for about 9 months.  No, I wasn’t in the military nor the Peace Corps.  I had been living in Alaska the prior two years when Jerry, a former boyfriend from my early Cincinnati years, came to Fairbanks for a visit from Guam.  He had moved there to work at the NASA Tracking Station as a Field Engineer just prior to my move to Alaska. 

While visiting in Fairbanks Jerry urged me to join him on Guam.  I had just finished my second winter in Alaska, and frankly I was ready for a new location.  Twenty hours of darkness for 4 months of the year was tough to take. 

Life was pretty good on Guam.  Jerry was well employed and I didn’t have any problems finding a job.  He owned a 35’ sloop named the Plaumin Tasi and we had a nice group of friends, mostly ex-Peace Corps workers to hang out with. 

The week of May 23 we were aware that there was a storm brewing close to us.  Jerry was paying more attention than I.  But around May 20 we were at the marina where the Plaumin Tasi was moored talking to the owner.  I don’t remember his name but I do remember that he was a retired Merchant Marine seaman and knew the ocean well.  The news kept reporting that the storm would pass our island 50 miles to the south.  That evening as we talked, our Marina owner told us the newsmen didn’t know a damn thing. 

“Why” Jerry asked.  And he replied, “See those trees?  The direction of the wind hasn’t shifted in 8 hours.”  Jerry and I looked at him with questions in our eyes.  He knew we were pretty green when it came to the ocean. 

“That means the storm is coming straight at us. If it was passing us to the south, the direction of the wind would be shifting as it moved along.” Jerry blanched white. 

There wasn’t much we could do for the Plaumin Tasi.  Jerry understood the quadrants of the storm and knew the boat had to be tied up in one direction during the first half of the storm, and then reversed, if he had the opportunity, for the second.  We weren’t sure where the eye of the storm would land, but the radio urged everyone to stay sheltered as it still would not be safe to be out and about. 

We did what we could to secure our house and then headed to Merizo to be near the boat.  The house was rented.  The boat was Jerry’s baby. 

Friends had a house in Merizo where we headed just prior to the storm hitting.  It was early in the day when the wind started to pick up and the rain started pouring.  I remember 4-6 of us in the house, which luckily was cement block with a solid roof.  However, it was situated lower than the road bed, which presented a problem. 

The driveway to the house was lined up directly with the front door.  As the rain began coming down in buckets, the water ran straight down the driveway and into the front door.  At first it was seeping under the door, then it was pouring.  We moved furniture around trying to save it from the water.  At one point we opened the door and tried to sweep the water back out…but that didn’t work.  Then, someone noticed that the back door of the house was perfectly lined up with the front door and they had the brilliant idea to just let the water run straight through the house…which is what we did. 

All of us had brooms or mops and with towels we made a little channel where the water ran through the house and out the back door.  Worked like a charm. 

After several hours we could tell the storm was letting up.  The eye had arrived.  We had no idea where in the eye we were.  Were we lined up dead center or off to an edge?  That tiny bit of information would determine how much time we had to turn the boat around.  Jerry took off and came back reporting that the boat was fine so far.  He also reported that a group of boat owners/captains were holed up in the Marina and planned to stay there during the second half of the storm.  Jerry announced he was joining them and what did I want to do?

My options were to head to a shelter in the mountains of the island, which is where all the smart people were.  That could mean it would be days before I would see Jerry again.  Or, I could join everyone in the marina, where all the incredibly stupid people were.  Mind you, these were all people I knew, had partied with, cared about.  But they were stupid!!!

The problem was multifaceted. 

First, the marina was a cement block building, at the end of a pier that extended about 30 yards out into the water.  Not the safest place to be during a typhoon. 

Second, the second half of this storm would be the destructive half from where we sat.  We were in that quadrant that would see the meanest seas and the highest wind.  When I pointed out to Jerry that there was a good chance the building could disintegrate, he said we would all lock arms, and run for a Telephone Utility Building across the road from the marina.  Never mind that there would be tin roofs, coconuts and other assorted goodies flying through the air and that the building was locked up tight.  No way we could get in there. 

One top of that, the winds were now pushing the water into our little harbor instead of sucking it out as had happened during the first half.  That meant the water would be rising significantly during this half of the storm.  The marina could easily end up under water in short order. 

No, I did not want to go to the mountains, but I did not want to be in that marina either.  I was not a happy camper, but the marina it was going to be. 

By this time we were fully engulfed in the eye of the storm.  It was surreal.  The sun was out, birds were flying around.  It looked like a normal day.  No rain.  No wind.  Jerry had plenty of time to turn the boat around and secure her as tightly as possible.  All the other boats were there too.  A 40’ trimaran, 2 small glass bottom boats, a fairly large Chris Craft deep sea fishing boat were all weathering out Typhoon Pamela. 

By 4 PM our fellow boat owners/captains were partying hard.  They stockpiled the marina with food, alcohol and weed.  Some were barely conscious.  If things turned bad, someone was not going to make it, I had no doubt.  I for one steered clear of anything that would foggy up my senses.  I didn’t know what I would do if that building started to go, but I was going to give myself a fighting chance.   
 

And then we saw the inside wall of the eye approaching us.  Man….did I want out of there. 

There are people in this world who never truly experience nature, who never know the joy and sheer beauty of our natural environment.  I can’t say that I am an adrenalin junkie, but I have seen my fair share of the beauty that is out there.  This was not one of them. 

That wall crawled toward us.  It was dark grey, ominous and went up as far as we could tilt our heads back.  The birds were trapped, there was no escape for them until the storm either died out or they ran out of steam, whichever came first.  As it approached you could hear the wind that was what it was.  It was a very eerie sound, a sound you don’t easily forget.

It got closer and closer and finally we went inside.  Within minutes the water rose to mid-calf and the waves were pounding over the top of the building.  You could watch the ocean-facing wall shiver with each crash of a wave.  And then it was night.  Jerry and I crawled up on top of a metal desk, hunched on it together and waited.  We had no electricity …all we had was the sound, and boy, did I want out of there!!

Remarkably the building held, and with the dawn the rain and wind subsided enough that the partiers could go outside and survey the damage.  Jerry and I were still on the desk when someone outside said, ‘Does Jerry know?’  Jerry stiffened and we both knew what it meant, the Palumin Tasi was down, or maybe something worse. 

Within a few minutes we were outside and saw that she was underwater.  The photo accompanying this Blog shows her status.  And actually, the best thing that Jerry did was turn her stern seaward during the eye.  She had swamped, did not break her moors and simply rode out the storm 6’ below water:  a nice safe place for a boat to be. 

Note the trees, this photo was taken before the winds had subsided and no doubt from the pier where we spent the night

Within a couple of hours a friend had free dove inside and outside her hull and determined she was in good shape except for one wench which had pulled from the floorboards.  We gathered together 8, 55 gallon drum barrels, lashed four on each side of the Palumin Tasi’s hull and filled them with compressed air from scuba tanks.  When the 8^th barrel was filled her gunnels rose above the sea and the Palumin Tasi was floating again.  We spent the remainder of the day, bailing her out and cleaning her up. 

At the end of the day we headed home and found we could not stay there, so headed to a friend’s house for the night.  That was when the stress of the past 48 hours hit.  She walked out her door to greet us and I crumbled in her arms, a sobbing, heaving mess….but alive.