Community Corner

Feeling A Little Winded

My first run-in with a hurricane

Perhaps the most difficult part of covering a hurricane is knowing whether or not to bring song lyrics into the mix and with what frequency.

The cardinal sin would probably be associating an article with “Rock You Like A Hurricane,” a 27-year-old song from the Scorpions. If the search results don’t lie, that happened approximately a quarter million times during Hurricane Irene. I gave in to the temptation to title after Bob Dylan’s song on a decidedly non-weather topic, and that may arguably be worse; some 2.6 million search results pair that one with Irene.

Though really, the bigger concern was that this would be my first hurricane experience. Blizzards, they’re a dime a dozen; I . We’ve all been through a bad thunderstorm or two, and know enough to stay inside for them. I’ve even been through a few tornado warnings, when the pressure is low enough to create a palpable unease and one doesn’t really feel like questioning the suggestions that you go to the basement for awhile.

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Hurricanes, for some reason, are different. There were plenty of plummeting trees, limbs, and power lines last week. The city gave the order to stay off the roads, and that certainly seemed like a good idea. The way the wind seemed intent on knocking out my windows was a little unnerving, as was the nonstop scanner chatter as firefighters did their best to address the calls as they came in.

But there’s also something about hurricanes that just invites challenge. People ignored police tape around as the storm died down to check out the whitecaps on the Thames up close. A few businesses opted not to close, and no doubt there were a few hurricane parties around town. I joked with people that I was going to go running as usual, 65 mile per hour gusts be damned, with a possible visit to the end of the fishing pier to mock nature. Who knows why there’s such an urge to do things that can be really, really stupid. If I had decided to go for a jog, a well-aimed branch or power line could have easily taken me out; in a few places in New England, people did indeed die after taking part in questionable activities such as rafting over raging floodwaters. 

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Granted, Irene was a hurricane only briefly, weakening to a tropical storm almost as soon as it hit land. And I almost feel like I should have been out there defying the order to stay off the roads, risking life and limb and fighting detours and high winds to bring you as many action photos and videos as possible. I’m very grateful to the people who did upload shots from their neighborhoods, as they gave a pretty incredible and up-to-date view of conditions in town while keeping everyone much safer.

Like a lot of you, I shrugged off warnings that Irene’s tailwinds were going to pack a punch and took a stroll around town to see what the storm had wrought. What decided it was the quick venture out the door and the discovery that I had faced harsher gusts hiking in the White Mountains. And though the Presidential Range doesn’t throw shingles and realty signs at you, I was willing to dodge such projectiles if need be to leave the cabin fever behind (and find a working power outlet).

So my first hurricane was a bit of a puny one, but I’m not especially eager to welcome another, stronger one into town. Going some 24 hours without electricity wasn’t all that fun, and I know I was one of the luckier ones to get it back in that period. And it probably would have been more enjoyable to take Sunday off as per usual. But if the storm forming in the Atlantic heads our way, I’ll know what to expect and I’ll be here to cover it.


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