Here Comes the Story of the Hurricanes
Everyone has events that are etched in their memory, where we remember what we were doing as the event unfolded. Some events are so societally transformative that they become a shared experience within the generation of individuals alive at that time – for example, the 9/11 attacks. Other events are not so widely shared and touch some of us more deeply than others due to a more personal connection. Hurricane Ida’s landfall as a Category 4 hurricane on August 29th at Port Fourchon, Louisiana, reminds me of two other hurricanes and my whereabouts during their landfalls.
Before I recount those experiences, here’s a meteorology primer. Low pressure systems develop when areas of warm air and cooler air collide. Warm air weighs less than cool air both because the warm air carries moisture and because heat causes air molecules to expand. As the lighter air rises, there is less air at the earth’s surface – hence, the term low pressure. As warm air rises, it is displaced by cooler air, which also becomes heated, acquires moisture, and rises. As the warm air rises, it cools and is unable to contain its moisture, resulting in clouds and rain. Wind is caused by air from surrounding high pressure systems displacing the rising air of low pressure systems.
The missing ingredient for converting a low pressure system to a hurricane is an abundance of warm moist air to fuel this progression. Thus, the equatorial regions of the North Atlantic Ocean are breeding grounds for hurricanes. Additionally, North Atlantic hurricanes typically strengthen if they enter the Gulf of Mexico due to the Gulf’s shallow depth, and consequently its warmer water, relative to the North Atlantic. Hurricanes, as well as low pressure systems, rotate counterclockwise, so storm surge on the leading (eastern) edge is often problematic.
In 1971, civil engineer Herb Saffir and meteorologist Robert Simpson developed a hurricane rating scale based on wind speed, which is intended to convey a hurricane’s potential for property damage and loss of life. The scale is divided into five categories, with a storm’s impact estimated to increase by a factor of four between each category. The categories range from Category 1, with wind speeds of 74-95 mph, to Category 5, with wind speeds of 157 mph and higher. Hurricanes measuring Category 3 and higher are considered “major” storms, and only two Category 5 hurricanes have “hit” the continental United States - the 1935 Florida Keys hurricane and Hurricane Andrew in 1992.
One critique of the scale is that it is based entirely on wind speed and does not consider factors such as tornadoes, rainfall, or flooding due to storm surge. In 2005 and 2017, these two latter factors were the primary causes of destruction and loss of life by Hurricanes Katrina and Harvey. My whereabouts during these storms follows.
As a way to stay connected to a high school friend, I began traveling to Dallas each August beginning in 2005 to participate in a 100-mile bike ride, the Hotter ‘N Hell 100. Leaving Dallas to return home after that year’s ride, I was aware of a hurricane named Katrina meandering around the Gulf but wasn’t too concerned, because it was only a Category 1 when it crossed southern Florida on the 25th. When I checked into a Kansas City hotel the evening of the 28th, I learned that the storm had feasted on the warm waters of the Gulf of Mexico and had grown to a Category 5 with winds of 175 mph! When I turned on the news the next morning (August 29), I was relieved to learn that the storm had weakened to a Category 3, with winds of 125 mph as it made its second landfall near the southern-most tip of the Mississippi River’s delta and was tracking northeast, across the Gulf toward Mississippi.
I decided to grab some breakfast before hitting the road, thinking New Orleans would suffer some damage, but confident that the City would be able to cope. As I returned from breakfast, I was stunned to learn that the hurricane’s surge had elevated the levels of Lake Pontchartrain and the Intracoastal Waterway as the storm progressed toward its third landfall at the mouth of the Pearl River, the Louisiana-Mississippi boundary. Soon, the Industrial Canal, which connects Lake Pontchartrain, the Gulf Intracoastal Waterway, and the Mississippi River, overtopped its floodwalls and shortly thereafter, multiple floodwall sections were breached. One breach measured over 1,000 feet in length. The breaches flooded the entire 9th Ward. An estimated 50 floodwalls and levees throughout the City were overtopped or breached, and 80% of New Orleans flooded. It took 6 weeks to drain the floodwaters from the City. The National Hurricane Center attributed 1,838 fatalities to Katrina, including 1,577 in Louisiana. “Katrina” has since been retired from the hurricane nomenclature.
In August 2017, I was back in Dallas getting ready to ride my 12th Hotter ‘N Hell 100, when a tropical storm entered the Caribbean, after forming as a tropical wave off the coast of Africa. However, the storm became disorganized and was downgraded back to a tropical wave as it entered the Gulf of Mexico on August 22nd. The warm waters of the western Gulf of Mexico caused the wave to intensify rapidly and by August 23rd, a Category 4 hurricane was pointed at the middle of the Texas Gulf Coast. On August 25th at 10 p.m., Hurricane Harvey made landfall at Port Aransas.
My sister and her family live in Houston, but I was unconcerned for their safety. Houston is 200 miles northeast of Port Aransas, and hurricanes quickly lose their strength after landfall because they lack warm water to sustain them. I participated in the bike ride on August 26th and prepared for my drive back to Madison. Then, the news turned bad, as Harvey became trapped between high pressure systems to its west and its east. Consequently, Harvey abandoned a rapid track inland and instead, proceeded up the Texas coast at the more deliberate pace of 5 mph. Landfall caused Harvey to lose its wind speed, so it was downgraded to a tropical storm. However, its movement parallel to the coastline allowed it to continue to generate significant rainfall due to its counterclockwise rotation.
Beginning on August 25th, rain fell on Harris County (Houston) for five straight days, and most locations in the County measured 40 to 50 inches of rain. According to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, Harvey resulted in 68 deaths in Texas and flooded 300,000 structures and 500,000 vehicles. One of the structures was the home of my sister and brother-in-law. I am unable to describe the helplessness I felt being only 239 miles to the northwest yet realizing that I was unable reach my family due to flooding and lend assistance. Turning north on U.S. 75 in Dallas to return home, I felt like I had a rock in my stomach as I gazed into my rearview mirror. On August 30th, Harvey made its third U.S. landfall at Cameron, Louisiana, and by September 3rd, the storm was fully dissipated.
According to the National Hurricane Center, Hurricanes Katrina and Harvey are the two costliest hurricanes to “hit” the continental United States, each causing an estimated $125 billion in damage. The damage total for Hurricane Ida was a more modest $50 billion, but that is little consolation to the people of Grand Isle, whose entire community was destroyed.
Those of you who are Bob Dylan fans probably recognize this posting’s title as a paraphrase of a line from Dylan’s song, “Hurricane” and assume that my musical reference would be to Dylan’s hit song. Sorry, that song is about a person, not a storm. Instead, give a listen to Stevie Ray Vaughn’s classic “Texas Flood.” Sadly, Vaughn has a Wisconsin connection. He died in a helicopter crash in East Troy, Wisconsin, after performing at the outdoor venue, Alpine Valley, on August 27, 1990. He was only 35 years old.
Lagniappe: Yet More Meteorology - Summer Ends. As I was working on this posting, summer ended. The official date was Wednesday September 22. My Mom loved Broadway musicals, and I have warm memories of her “borrowing” my sister’s phonograph and playing West Side Story, Oklahoma, and The Music Man. I can’t remember if she owned a copy of Porgy and Bess. It was composed by George and Ira Gershwin with Dubose Heyward in 1935 as an American opera, rather than a musical. It opens with the aria, “Summertime,” which is reportedly the most recorded song of all times (didn’t I say that about “Hallelujah” last month?). My Mom came of age listening to singers like jazz great Ella Fitzgerald and New Orleans native Louis Armstrong, whose performance mimics the original 1935 version.
To Mom’s dismay, I came of age listening to hard rock, and Janis Joplin and Big Brother and the Holding Company covered the song with a version that is quite different. Their 1967 Cheap Thrills album belongs in every hard rock record collection.
However, my favorite rendition is by Billy Stewart who recorded the song for Chess Records in 1966. His version brings Monty Python’s catchphrase to mind, “and now for something completely different.”