Traveling through hurricane wasteland

Take a drive down Interstate 10 between Houston, Texas and New Orleans, Louisiana. You can see the signs everywhere. Mostly it’s tress snapped in half. They point every direction. In some places there are homes that still have blue roofs – tarps that protect the interior from the sometimes-nasty elements. Some places have homes or businesses damaged and still rebuilding. Others simply are not trying. They’re exhausted. Eight hurricanes and five tropical storms in the past five seasons – six hurricanes in the last three seasons including Hurricane Katrina, Hurricane Rita, Hurricane Gustav and Hurricane Gustav – will do that to you. Houston and New Orleans have seen some of the worst in Ike and Katrina, respectively. But that doesn’t exclude the smaller communities like Galveston, Lake Charles, Morgan City or Baton Rouge. Not to mention Sidell. All of them have had their share. And they would love a break. A personal tragedy took me down this six-hour trip in February that concluded in New Orleans, Louisiana. It was the first time I’ve made this trip. It won’t be the last.

As a passenger heading east on I-10 I can’t help but look out the window. I see trees pointed towards the east and I quiz myself. These trees weren’t downed in Katrina. They would have been pointed southerly. ”I’m in Lake Charles,” I say to myself. Yes, these trees were downed in Gustav. It was last year. September 1, 2008. And the history strikes me. To you it may appear as nothing unusual or worth thinking about. To me, it’s worth everything to think about. What happened that night on this piece of highway in Louisiana? Did cars travel here then? Did they see these trees snap? Did they fear for their lives. I couldn’t help but think as I noticed the natural devastation that late in the evening with the sun still up but hidden by the tumultuous rain and clouds of Gustav whomever failed to heed the warnings and dared their way down this lonely stretch of highway near Lafayette – did they know what was coming? Did they care? Did they hide? The swampy shoulders lent no way for peace. Grin and bear it – if you dare. How could anyone go through that dark night wondering, as the eye of Gustav passed above, about anything other than death?

A hurricane is a hurricane. No matter category one or a category five. It sings to you. Songs you may have never heard before. It’s not the rhythm of a tropical rainfall; rather, the screaming of the wind as it whistles through powerlines and thin tree limbs that can scare even a brave man. How could nature make such a noise? And one to be repeated so rarely. How can a rainstorm with no lightning in the area produce such bright neon-blue flashes reminiscent of lightning?

I wonder what were the truckers thinking? Those who had to get to Houston or New Orleans before sunrise September 2. What could those in a rush to get home be thinking as they attempted to brave Gustav? And don’t say no one would dare drive that stretch in a storm. People are stupid. They are reckless. Else, we wouldn’t have hurricane-associated death.

As I continue to drive further east I realize the damage I see isn’t of Gustav. Not anymore – sure, 20 miles west it was. But, now it’s different. The trees point in another direction. South. If the damage were from Gustav or Ike they would be pointing north. I must be close. Ground Zero. ”Wow”, I say to myself. 1,280 days later and all I can say is, “wow!” Still? To this day? Signs of that day remain? Not possible. But I know no storm since then has taken the path to cause the type of devastation seen here. These downed trees point south. They spell out a name. They speak to you the story of The Storm. As far away as Lafayette. So close. So long ago. 1,280 days.

It seems for some New Orleans’ residents it’s been longer. They call it The Storm. You call it Katrina. In the span of 1,280 days there has been much rebuilding – much cleaning up. Yet, the memories are visible on many streets. I arrived late Thursday night and began my sightseeing Friday morning. I was taken to the south shore of Lake Pontchartrain in the area known as the West End. 1,280 days ago, sometime early Monday, August 29, 2005, the levee here on the east side busted. You could see the several hundred foot span of new concrete that once was overrun by flooding waters from Metaire Canal. In this subdivision there were several homes that were rebuilt. Some were rebuilt upon at least three feet of concrete slab raised up from street level. Some homes were built on stilts similar to what you would see in Galveston or the Outer Banks. The raising would not have helped during Hurricane Katrina. And I can’t help but wonder if Katrina were to occur again if there would be a better outcome.

We came across several homes that still had damage from The Storm. Most of them looked as if they’d never been touched and seemingly never will be. Some were listed for sale. Roofs were missing. Water lines were visible. Tall weeds and other natural vegetation grow between the cracks of the sidewalks and driveways. The now-infamous orange X spray-painted on the front of the homes were faded but still readable. ”This home was searched on September 12. There were no bodies found inside,” the decoded message read.

Three blocks from the levee we came across a building whose floor was two feet above the parking lot which was about five feet above the street. Wooden columns graced the front. A dark-tanned waterline was stained approximately six feet from the floor. I couldn’t help but look around at the grocery store across the street and the homes nearby and even at myself. 1,280 days ago in this very spot I would’ve been submerged in torrential floodwaters.

I spoke to someone who lived in the area. Her family is determined to rebuild though they’ve bought a second home in another part of the city. Even today most of the home is brand new except for the foundation, the exterior brick siding and the studs. They still fight through inspections and contractors to finish the most essential needs: wriring and plumbing. I was told this was their home and they want to be there. But, should Katrina happen again they will be gone for good.

As we drove around the neighborhood I tried to keep photography to a minimum. Some residents were outside cleaning. Some were building. Some where doing normal yardwork. I wanted to talk to them and get their story. I wanted to see their memories. I didn’t feel, though, that this would be like talking to someone after Hurricane Ike. When you’re talking to someone who survived The Storm, in my opinion, you should understand it may be something they won’t want to discuss. And perhaps there may be hostility. Maybe I was wrong. Why take a chance? I kept a low profile and took notes with my eyes. They’re faces said enough, anyway, as they stared me down, curious to my business in their stricken but surviving land. They’re not worried about yesterday. Today is all that matters.

My girlfriend and I had lunch at New Orleans Food and Spirits in Bucktown. Here they refer to you with pet names such as ‘dawlin’ and ‘suga’. It was my first taste of true New Orleans-style cooking. Besides the blackened catfish on a bed of rice smothered with crawfish etoufe I had what they call the Voodoo Rolls, a crawfish, spinach and cream cheese combination wrapped up in a flaky pastry. It was a shame we ate there first. Nothing else I had came close. The restaurant was packed. We had managed to get there just minutes before the line began building from the front door into the parking lot. Here there were no signs of rebuilding. And that’s how they wanted it. It was life as normal.

After lunch we made our way just down the road to West End and Breakwater Park near the Municipal Yacht Harbor. I’m told by my girlfriend/tour guide the same story you always hear after hurricanes pass through boat yards. Boats of all sizes were thrown up on Breakwater Drive, Roadway Street and Lake Marina Avenue. Many homes were still significantly beaten either by wind, storm surge, boats or all of the above. The properties that lined the marina all sat on stilts with boat docks beneath their living rooms. Some were still being rebuilt. Most were vacant and set to be demolished. The marina itself was full with new or unharmed boats and yachts. Here as with West End, normalcy had returned with visual everyday reminders of what happened. Even restaurants and bars that once flourished off Breakwater Drive were gone. Empty lots with broken pavement decorated by tall weeds. This along with party leftovers from this week’s Mardi Gras plaster the New Orleans landscape.

Saturday morning we headed to the infamous French Quarter. We drove down Interstate 10 towards the Superdome. Here, on this bridge with the Superdome in the background and the then-homeless packed along the sides of the highway with nothing left but hope waiting for help, I remembered Shephard Smith of Fox News having an outburst on The O’Reilly Factor asking where the help was. There, below the bridge stood swirling waters. Today it was dry and alive. As we passed the Superdome I stared, remembering the lines of people begging for mercy. Today there were just a few.

In the French Quarter there were no signs of what happened in 2005. Only what goes on in every day life the days after Mardi Gras. Around Jackson Square along the Mississippi River artists hung their caricatures and other paintings looking to make a living. A sole trumpeteer played Amazing Grace. We made our way into the Saint Louis Cathedral. Here, also, there were no signs of what happened 3 1/2 years ago. Several plaques stood to commemorate various occasions and events, most notably that of Pope John Paul II’s visit in 1987. I saw nothing about Katrina.

Down Canal and Bourbon Street a few tourists walked alongside us but mostly it was calm. Age was the predominant smell. The history is rich down to the brick sidewalk. I remembered back to the day watching various news outlets and their reporters along Bourbon Street when the lights were off. On this day it was business as usual. Dark clouds advanced with some breezy conditions and drizzle. Today, however, it came from the north rather than east. Some bars blasted their music; doors wide open, very inviting. Pat O’Briens was open and I couldn’t resist going in and grabbing myself a Hurricane. They were selling limited edition glasses for $10. All profits were to be donated to the New Orleans Police and Fire Department. I was sold. It was the least I could do.

As we left the Quarter we drove through the now-historic Ninth Ward. Here, by far, were the most reminders of those days. Too many buildings still were destroyed. Too many were painted with the orange X. It was here I saw the first one which said two bodies were found inside. There is certainly life here. Some may say otherwise. At least, there’s a resemblance of normal life. People going to work, going to shop, or just enjoying the presence of friends and family on this weekend. Too many properties are listed for sale here. I imagine just as in the West End they will not be sold anytime soon.

In Saint Bernard Parish the scene is not much better. Along the main stretch of road we came across a trailer park loaded with FEMA trailer’s – all inhabited. Here, though, were the most clear-cut signs that things just weren’t returning to normal. Too many shopping centers were vacant. Lots were ruins. Signs that once promoted the business were either destroyed or missing entirely; their sun-stained shadows all that remained. It was in this area the western eyewall of Katrina moved through. And you could see it in the trees that still laid down along the side of Judge Perez Highway. Some laid pointing west. Some laid pointing south. Some laid pointing east. Clear indicators of tornadic like conditions spread over several hours.

Today, as we mark the 4-year anniversary of Hurricane Katrina it’s important to remember those days no matter how painful we are. As the saying goes, when we forget history we’re destined to repeat it. I wonder if we have forgotten. After all, almost exactly 30 years had passed since the last time New Orleans had been hit by a fierce storm. Hurricane Betsy caused tremendous damage and flooding as well. As they rebuild the levees, are we doing it better? Are we protecting the city? Some, including myself, do not believe the city should be rebuilt – some battles mankind will never win against nature. But, the rebuilding will go on. And I hope, for all of those who have returned and all of those who will return that all of the mistakes that were made in the thirty years between Betsy and Katrina are not repeated. It must be done better. Today, as you think about the events of that day, think about the events of today; the events that are occuring every day to make sure that what happened four years ago never occurs again. New Orleans will be hit by another hurricane; another major hurricane. Let’s hope history does not repeat itself a third time.