Back-to-Back Hurricanes

In late summer of 1974, sixteen-year-old Mal Price came to spend a few months with Bucher and me in Belize. (The previous year, the official name of the country had been changed from British Honduras to Belize.) Mal is the youngest son of our close friends Patty and Kendall, neighbors when we lived in Atlanta.

The hurricanes that September gave Mal more of a floor-show than we had planned to provide for him. Can’t remember two so close together before.

Hurricane Carmen

From letter dated September 2, 1974

At about 1:00 am local time on Saturday, August 31st, the storm became organized and was traveling on a heading that would take it south of Belize City, straight into Stann Creek [Dangriga]. It became a hurricane by mid-morning and was moving fairly rapidly, 15 to 25 miles per hour.

By 4:00 am on Sunday, September 1st, Hurricane Carmen had begun a slight swing to the north, was moving west at about 19 mph and had sustained winds of 110 mph.

The new course, which curved ever so gently toward the north in the next eight hours, pulled the storm-center slightly—but safely—north of Belize City. Winds now were 125 mph with gusts to l60. The barometric pressure in Belize City (combined readings from two Scott barometers; one barometer on the Ultra Freeze, one of our ships anchored in the harbor; United Brands’ barometer; and others) stayed sufficiently higher than the reputed reading in the storm, which tended to keep her offshore. Main problem: a high-pressure center located somewhat to the north, which might tend to hold the storm down. This high pressure dissipated somewhat through the day and the hurricane eased slowly, slightly northward.

At about four in the afternoon, when the storm center appeared north of Belize City and sufficiently far offshore to pose no positive threat of either hurricane-force winds or high water, The Government Went Mad.

They announced on Radio Belize extreme danger from Punta Gorda (in the very South of the country) through Stann Creek [Dangriga] to Belize City, with probable tides ten to fifteen feet higher than normal. At the time they made this announcement, the storm was north of Belize City and posed no danger whatever to the two southern towns.

 

We re-evaluated our situation and discovered certain facts:

1. Swan Island (official) weather report placed the center north of Belize City.

2. The surface winds in Belize City were from the west (which they could be only if the storm were north of the city).

3. The pattern and action of the clouds indicated that the center was north of Belize City.

Which left one missing item from the equation—the wonderful new Belize Airport Radar. When the Comptroller of Customs flipped and ordered Bucher to move tugs, barges, and miscellaneous vessels from their moorings in the mouth of the Belize River, his protests were met with, “You don’t have the information we have.”

Reconstructing, Bucher theorized that they may have had a “ghost” on the Radar (not unusual) or could have spotted a large thunderhead on the edge of the hurricane (again, normal) and decided that it was the Eye of the storm, headed ashore well to the south of where every other bit of information put it. And they trusted their fancy new machine. Which, according to Bucher, is handicapped by:

1. Untrained personnel

2. Little usage to acquaint personnel with the radar

3. Fluctuating voltage, which has limited the radar’s usage and compromised its results

4. Possible faulty calibration, due to all the above

Anyway, the country was informed by Radio Belize that they were in instant danger of Hattie-like winds and water.

 

Authorities had been meeting since morning in their Emergency Committee and had been doing all the logical and necessary things with a hurricane in the area. However, once they got whatever new information they got—and we have reason to believe it was a phony radar reading—they started announcing the opening of hurricane shelters and generally putting the populace into a panic.

At the same time, Bucher, who had been plotting the storm, predicted that if it continued on its present course and speed it would go inland a little north of Xcalak on the Yucatán peninsula. He was completely right on the location and, once he re-estimated for Carmen’s slower speed late in the day, he was right on the time.

Meanwhile back at the farm, the telephone rang constantly. There is an increasing list of friends and business people who call Bucher to get the true picture about hurricanes when they are in the vicinity. He manned all radios and I stood by the telephone.

 

That morning, Mal had gone off with Bucher’s assistant Crispin (“Cris”) Williams to play basketball at St. John’s gym. Mal thought he would be goofing around with just Cris and Linsford Myvette, Cris’s one-eyed, amiable helper on Bucher’s tug, who is one of our local basketball stars. When they got there, Mal found that the entire team had come out to “play hoop.” He obviously enjoyed it. He obviously was nonplussed initially at the loose and rather vicious rules.

Mal came in around 1:00 pm, hot, happily tired, and amused at the great commotion over a hurricane that didn’t look imminent.

Bucher went off mid-afternoon to make sure his tug and barges were tied securely in the river and, from some call or other, I got the idea that the entire position of the storm had changed. Mal and I were out on the upper veranda, Bowditch in hand, plotting the center and, to our own satisfaction, determining that Bucher was right. However, Mal dashed off to meet Bucher at Customs when he called in to say that the Comptroller had asked him to tow a small freighter out to distant anchorage and to move the tug and barges out.

I was alone until 6:45 pm, answering the telephone and hearing increasingly alarming reports of the status of the hurricane. Bucher finally called in from Customs to say that he would be home shortly and asked what-the-hell was this foolishness about the hurricane and high water in Belize City. I quoted Radio Belize to him and he got so mad he slammed the phone down on me.

Shortly after Mal and Bucher came in, a sometime-stevedore who lives in an alley across the street from us came over to ask if he could leave “his things” here since he had to work for Public Works, battening down buildings, and his wife and children had to go to “shelter” alone. He said that anything he left in his house would be gone by morning. So he, the wife, and the children lugged their modest possessions over to our laundry room—three great lumps done up in sheets, a wash tub, a fan, a carton of miscellany, and two boxes.

Our telephone “service” continued till two in the morning; Bucher kept the radio on all night to talk to Captain Nelson Cooper on the Ultra Freeze. I assured Mal that he could spot a hurricane by the noise and Bucher assured him it was already past, so he went to sleep happily.

The night brought a squall, some rain, and news at dawn that the storm had gone inland where and when Bucher predicted.

 

To my surprise today, Monday, September 2nd became a holiday. I had forgotten that it is an unwritten law that no one goes to work the day after a hurricane or hurricane scare. That did not apply to our cook, Miss Leonie Usher, who arrived right on time, terribly excited at all the activity.

Bucher and Mal have gone off to retrieve the tug and bring it back to the wharf. I think it needs to be done—but I know they both need to be out doing something.

Bucher still is seething at the business of scaring the population to death unnecessarily and wondering when this business of crying wolf may backfire.

And Radio Belize is having a glorious time telling about what teams of saviors have gone where to do what:

• British Army teams by helicopter to assess damage on the Cayes

• Volunteer Guard teams “rushed” (at the 15 mph that the Northern Highway permits in its deplorable condition) to help in the cleanup

• Police, Firemen, Reconstruction Development Finance personnel (in teams) up to do their things

The whole point, of course, is that they have worked tirelessly to save Belize from the storm. And at the upcoming election they can claim honestly that not a life was lost in the fearful, storm (which never even hit the country).

Expletive Deleted.

Hurricane Fifi

From report dated September 21, 1974

The Belize radio and weather bureau acted commendably. The backstage word after Carmen was pretty derogatory and apparently it got back to them. Also, Gilly Hulse wrote a fairly strong column in The Reporter suggesting that instead of playing stimulating marches during a scare, Radio Belize give some helpful hints such as boiling water, securing property, etc. This time they did. The whole thing was far lower key.

However, we felt that the Central Emergency Organization, communing with each other in their aerie atop the Cattouse Building, went into public action a bit precipitously. The storm was something more than 500 miles distant and moving at a maximum of ten miles an hour when they declared Red Phase and closed the schools countrywide. If a storm 500 miles distant covering ten mph can reach Belize—for which it is not heading—in under 50 hours, I’ll eat it. And if 50 hours isn’t mas o menos two days, I will further eat.

 

Fifi formed in the location we have come to distrust. On the evening of Monday, September 16th, she was below Jamaica, scheduled to hit Cayman at dawn, and the following morning she was headed due west toward the Honduras-Guatemala-Belize intersection. Conditions the same as for Hattie—cold, high-pressure front turned the thing around. Had she turned later, we could have had a direct hit. Even as it was, we had a two-day Hurricane Watch.

Wednesday morning, September 18th, when Fifi took her low, westerly course, the country packed up. Schools closed; no one showed up for work. Boarding began. Bucher and Mal charged around town, sort of enjoying the holiday. Bucher’s tug El Torito and two barges had gone to Big Creek with a load for Chevron and he radioed the tug and told Cris to stay there. It was a far more sheltered anchorage than he could have here in Belize. In the City, traffic was heavy through the bridges taking boats to river anchorages.

The weather here was fair with one very heavy rain storm at lunchtime. Nevertheless, my cook Miss Leonie waded through town to arrive slightly late, well togged out in red boots, raincoat, and the most dashing reversible rain hat—black plastic lined with a print, well tilted over her nose with the brim up in back at a jaunty angle to show the print.

Most of Wednesday there was nothing to do except track and plot the storm. As usual, we had our Command Post in operation. Can’t tell how many calls; the list of regulars has lengthened. I talk to Lia Tattersfield and Lady Wolffsohn about every other hour and Bucher usually has me make the regular calls to the families of Captain Cooper and Captain Gough.

Wednesday afternoon Lia called to ask if there were a law that you had to move your boat upriver. She thought there was; Tom refused to move the Capri; and she was sure he would be arrested, the boat confiscated, etc. Tom has been very sick with high blood pressure and was not physically well enough to move the boat. He rightly said it was safer well secured on the Foreshore than upriver, where any of dozens of craft could break loose and ram her. I buzzed Bucher at the office for official word and then reassured Lia.

Also on Wednesday the Comptroller of Customs (Telford Vernon) told Captain Cooper that he could not take his loaded molasses barges upriver because it would be dangerous. He had to send all his tugs North to Corozal with the barges. However, a loaded fuel barge was sent upriver because it had supplies for the government and obviously was no danger to anyone.

While there was no possibility of the storm’s reaching our coast until at least mid-day Thursday, Bucher kept all radios on all night Wednesday to track Fifi and to talk to the people in Honduras who were beginning to catch the storm. Not restful.

 

Thursday, September 19th, was bright, no rain, very gusty winds through half of the day. We stayed at the Command Post most of the time. Hurricane shelters had been opened the night before and, to our great irritation, Radio Belize had announcement after announcement about shelters in Corozal (in the North) but said not a word about Punta Gorda (in the South), which appeared in direct line for a hit.

Watching the winds, Bucher decided by early afternoon that the storm must have gone inland. At that time, both radar here and Miami hurricane-hunter reports had it in slightly different locations off the southern Belize coast. Finally mid-afternoon it was announced that she had gone inland across Placencia.

And where were Bucher’s tug and barges? Right under the Eye. Sorting it all out later, it appears that while the storm seemed to stay fairly still and was reported back and forth at l6.1 and 16.2 and 16.3 degrees North latitude, it may have been blowing its top, since it came inland at far less than its reported strength. The only reported damage in Belize was to some of those flimsy houses of Hercules at Independence. Of course, it wiped out our new banana industry.

The tug and barges were safe—didn’t even blow away the antenna—and they started back to Belize City the morning of Friday, September 20th, arriving through heavy seas just after dark that night. Bucher was rather nervous through most of the day, however, not being able to get any information from Big Creek, but he finally got through by radio in the early afternoon and was reassured.

 

Honduras caught hell. Fifi ran up between the coast and the Bay Islands. On the Islands, some houses went down and the coconuts were pretty well taken care of, but there was no loss of life reported. All the towns along the mainland coast were hurt by winds and high water, but only a few casualties were reported. However, it now seems that the devastation inland may have been enormous, caused by torrential rains over the mountains resulting in heavy flooding, plus the high tides and winds holding the water back in the rivers. They now are saying a thousand or more may have been killed with whole towns washed away.

As for us, I really had not thought much about the predicted “tides two to three feet above normal”—until I looked out and saw Regent Street completely awash. The water was ankle-deep in the shallowest part at the center of the street and flowed into all yards. Mal, Bucher, and I waded across to the office mid-afternoon Thursday, waded into the office, splashed across the rug through ankle-plus-deep water, saw that most of the office furniture was safe and that the lowest file drawers either were soaked or were waterproof and safe—and that there was nothing to do but lock up, go home, and have a drink.

We had heavy squalls with rain and winds about 40 mph, gusting above that, for about four hours or so after the hurricane went inland. The storm meanwhile continued northwestward, giving Benque quite a blow and starting a Top Gallon flood. Most of the highways are out and roads and bridges under water.

However, we were lucky again.