86. Weather or Not
Weather forecasts are almost always wrong, especially when they are made for Puerto Rico. The island’s small size, 100 miles long by 35 miles wide, and it nearly symmetrical geography (the long north coast faces the Atlantic, the south coast the Caribbean, and a high mountain range runs down the middle) makes it a hard target for a direct hit.
Hurricane trackers are probably the most accurate guessers in a field (meteorology) that seems a lot more like mock-it science than rocket science. I am an inveterate skeptic, of course, but the forecasts (for rain, for example) have been so consistently incorrect in the 56 years I have lived on the island, that they make a mockery of the law of averages.
NOAA’s hurricane trackers on the other hand can be depended on to spot the storms forming off Africa, estimate their tracks and their intensity (by flying into them!), and letting you know several times a day where they have decided to go. Hurricanes, of course, don’t read the forecasts and tend to do what they please, but NOAA has been watching them and second-guessing them for so long that when NOAA says jump, I jump.
If meteorologists forecast rain for Puerto Rico, I ignore them; if they plot the probable path of a tropical storm and it includes the tiny target of Puerto Rico, I pay attention. My house — like most in Puerto Rico — is as hurricane proof as a house can get. The floor, roof and columns and beams are rebar-reinforced concrete. The walls are cement block. The four doors and all the windows are designed to withstand winds up to 180 miles an hour.
I have a stainless steel cistern on the roof that holds enough water to keep us supplied (if we are parsimonious) for weeks. My 7,000-watt electrical generator is ensconced in a separate stormproof room of its own behind a steel door. I keep 40 to 60 gallons of gasoline on hand to run it, about a week’s supply, which can be stretched out much longer if I run it just a few hours a day.
Hurricanes are not savage events sent by the gods to punish sinners. They are natural events that serve a purpose: they rip off the jungle canopy to let sunlight in and strong new trees to grow. They carry away debris uncovering fertile soil for new life to take hold. Wildlife finds ways to survive and renew.
It is humans that seem to have problems with storms. They build wooden houses that are easily blown away by the big bad wolf. They plant huge trees next to their fragile roofs! They build whole towns on flood plains. They fail to make provision for the few days when Big Brother is unable to pump water or power to them.
I recently watched the hysterical TV coverage of yet another “killer” hurricane. I wonder what is the matter with my fellow humans. Don’t they know that hurricanes happen? Do they forget? Is the construction of every sub-division of a sub-division built of wooden sticks a gamble that they are willing to take? Aren’t they capable of building homes that are reasonably hurricane (or tornado, or whatever) proof? And do it off of flood plains?
The older I get, the dumber I get. Every day there are more and more things I don’t understand.
