So, Florida Hasn’t Seen a Single Hurricane in Over a Decade
And nationally, the Really Bad ones have been staying over water. As in, no “major” hurricane (Category 3 or higher) has made landfall in the contiguous United States over the same time period. This is currently the longest such drought since 1851. I know what you just did or are about to do. If you haven’t already done it after reading the headline (and if you have, welcome back) you’re probably going to google it to see if I’m right. Spoiler Alert: I am. If you didn’t run to google and you’re just trusting me…thanks. Though honestly, it probably means you just don’t care enough to look. And OK, I guess the “over a decade” part, though technically true, is a bit hyperbolic. It’s been “over a decade” by only seven months and the 2016 season hasn’t even begun.
Anyway, what made me even think of this you might ask? Well, aside from the fact that I’m just a diligent homeland security professional who diligently thinks of random homeland security things at random times…it came up at work. I happen to work in Mobile, Alabama, which incidentally, is about an hour drive east on I-10 from Florida. My “office” is a converted World War II era warehouse that sits about 100 feet from Mobile Bay. That’s the big bay right next to Mobile. The parking lot at work and surrounding city roads flood during summer thunderstorms. Even ones that last about 15 minutes. Average elevation above sea level? About 10 feet. So shortly after I arrived two years ago, I thought it was probably time to knock the dust off of our Continuity of Operations Plans (that’s the “Oh, Ship High In Transit” plan for you civilians), because while the buck doesn’t ultimately stop with me, if the buck blew up I’d be in the blast zone. And our Area of Responsibility includes most of the Florida Panhandle, so I sort of have to care about what happens to at least that part of the state. Finally (I promise) everyone knows the Gulf Coast (including Florida’s part) gets hurricanes ALL THE TIME.
Except lately, it really doesn’t. As the headline attests, the last hurricane to make landfall in Florida was Wilma, on October 25, 2005. The last hurricane to make landfall along the coasts of Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana, or Texas was Isaac in 2012. In a bit of a freak of nature (literally) Isaac actually made landfall twice; both times in Louisiana.
Granted, a hurricane doesn’t necessarily need to make landfall or be “major” to break a lot of stuff and hurt (or kill) a lot of people. Hurricanes tend to be really, really big, and they push a lot of water around. And as mentioned earlier (the parking lots, roads, and proximity to sea level) older infrastructure and low lying areas combined with lots of water in a short amount of time can surprise and/or doom even the most cautious person. When Hurricane Gustav hit Galveston Island, Texas in 2008 as a Category 2, it killed 21 people and caused about 30 million dollars in damage. Later that year and even worse was Hurricane Sandy, which never made landfall as a hurricane and was “only” a Category 2 offshore causing over 70 billion in damages and was blamed for 117 deaths in the United States. Still, historically, the deadliest and costliest hurricanes have been “major” and have struck land.
Hurricane Sandy (sort of) illustrates the point I’m finally coming to: Time + Inexperience (and OK, legitimate competing budgetary priorities) = Complacency. Now before my Northeast brethren and sistren (it’s a word) get mad, these are not moral or intellectual failings, but simply human nature. The last tropical system to significantly affect the area (pre-Sandy) was Tropical Storm Irene in 2011 but before that…Tropical Storm Floyd…in 1999. Before Sandy, the Northeast hadn’t experienced a Hurricane Katrina or Andrew type-event in decades. Understandably, reacting to and preparing for threats such as snowstorms and terrorism had taken precedence.
Back to Florida and the Hurricane drought. Science suggests it’s dumb luck. Storms, many of them strong, are still forming. They’re just not hitting land. No single year-over-year factor is preventing this, which means the “drought” could end at any time. Ten years is a long enough time that we have a name for it. Since Wilma hit in 2005, nearly two million people, most of whom have likely never experienced a major hurricane have moved to the state. Insurance premiums have eased. Construction has increased. Like most things, and especially bad things, there’s really no way to “get” a powerful hurricane until you’ve experienced one. Growing up in eastern North Carolina, I experienced Bertha (July 1996) and Fran (September 1996). I’ll never forget driving on state highway 17 (it runs close to, and parallel to the coast) shortly after Fran and seeing every single tree for forty miles bent and salt-blasted at about a 60-degree angle. Or that Boston Whaler on its back in a ditch, five miles from the nearest marina. The storm literally cut Topsail Island, North Carolina in half, creating an inlet from the intracostal waterway to the ocean that hadn’t existed a day before. We didn’t have electricity or easy access to potable water for days. And boy was it hot. But we were lucky. Our house survived mostly unscathed and nobody was injured. Many folks who lived in mobile or manufactured homes didn’t fare so well.
One last note for you homeland security folks: Our friends in South America currently have their hands full with the Zika Virus. It’s primarily transmitted by mosquitoes, and one of the contributing factors to its spread is that many go without air conditioning and/or don’t have screens on their windows, so they spend lots of time outside. Mosquitoes thrive in the humid climate, breeding in stagnant pools of water. Health organizations have already warned that parts of the Gulf Coast and Florida are at risk, particularly as we move into the summer months.
Perhaps I’m indulging in a bit of mental hyperbole, but I’ve been thinking…when Category 3 Hurricane Fran made landfall thirty miles from my home in 1996, it left our house standing. Others weren’t so lucky, and our town, though not “one horse” is hardly what you’d call a major metropolis in the vein of New Orleans, Miami, Houston, etc., with millions of people living in close proximity to one another.
After Fran, there was no reliable electricity (and thus no air conditioning) for at least a week. Emergency services were overloaded or delayed. It was extremely hot, both indoors and out and the storm left behind a lot of standing water that was slow to evaporate.
And I seem to recall there being a lot of mosquitoes.
