A Slap on the Wrist from Hurricane Iris (The CoastWatcher: Caribbean West)
News from the Honduras Bay Islands and North Coast
15 October 2001
By Pierre Renaldo, The Coastwatcher©

It came as a complete surprise to me when I came into town Monday morning. Everybody was scurrying around looking like they were in a hurry about something. Carrying big bottles of water and bags of things, but all of them in a hurry.

My first stop was to drop in on the ground floor of the building to ask Juan at Bay Island Electric what all the hustle was about.

"There is a hurricane coming. It is a category 4 storm and has winds of 140 miles per hour. They said it was heading for Roatan."

Gosh, I thought to myself. How did I miss this one. I had been watching the news all Sunday evening and early Monday and nobody said anything about a hurricane anyplace. The news analysts and commentators were all pre-occupied with the air strikes in Afghanistan and that was the only news I had heard. Nothing about a hurricane.

'It's just not fair', my brain was screaming. We had it with 'Mitch'. We don't deserve another one do we? Why us?

I later glanced out the window to see a steady downpour already confirming the reality of some kind of tropical disturbance. Sure enough something was working its way towards Roatan. The satellite map on the internet verified the position of Iris. She was making a pass towards the Bay Islands, setting a course for Belize. She would skirt our northern periphery, the eye to the north of Roatan. That meant the following winds would be west northwest, coming right down the slot, between Roatan and the North Coast. The Bay of Honduras would be a wild, raging torrent, with gigantic combers crashing onto my doorstep.

Gulp! My house was going to get a full blast, poised on the Ironshore looking at the mainland. There would be no mercy from Iris, nothing between me and she.

At 3 P.M. the power went off and the workday was over. I headed for Bo Jangles and Petro Sun only to find them neatly snugged inside a plywood cocoon. Locked up tight! Well, I had unwittingly done some shopping the day before. I had enough food and water to last a couple of days. After that? If this one was anything like Mitch then I might get pretty hungry and thirsty before it was over. Mitch hung around for five days!

By the time I reached the house the storm was showing its might, giving notice of a long worrisome night. I lighted the appropriately named hurricane lamps, poured myself a stiff scotch and watched the day dwindle into darkness. The wind was screaming its warning, the sea roared back in concert. And then it hit. Water, water, everywhere! The sky opened up, the wind driven droplets beating a staccato message on every windowpane.

"What mortal dares to dwell in this place?"

I retreated to the mid-level of my house and consoled myself by warming my diner on the gas grill, kept there for just such occasions as bar-b-queues, power failures and hurricanes. I was happy I had filled up the butane tank. I could have hot food and coffee, until I ran out of groceries. It was on this same life-saver grill, that I cooked during our interlude with Mitch, three years ago.

And then it happened. The lights came on! The winds dissipated quickly as if in reply to Reco. The storm was over. Bingo! Just like that. How did Reco know the storm was over when I thought it was just getting started? Don't get me wrong. I was very relieved, although somewhat doubtful at first, thinking maybe it was just a lull and Reco had it all wrong.

It was only a slap on the wrist. Iris went away. And I for one am very happy.

Remember to address comments and questions to me at: elouis@globalnet.hn

That's it for this week. Stay tuned for more exciting news.

Ciao
Pierre

By Pierre Renaldo, Mountain Coastal S.A,. General Contractors, Construction Management and Construction Consultants.