It was a wild time on the old Hill last night, and I’m not talking about a party. In fact, it was a wild time for all inhabitants of the valley, as force two hurricane winds swept down through the Long Range Mountains, carrying away anything not bolted down…and a few things that were.
High winds are not an anomaly here. We live in an area known, appropriately enough, as Wreckhouse, commonly thought to be the second windiest place in the world. Due to the peculiar geography of twin mountain ranges, vast barrens and the location of the island itself, the winds have been known to blow in excess of 200 kilometres an hour. Houses have been torn from their foundations. Tractor trailers are routinely picked up and tossed aside like children’s toys on the highway. It’s a phenomenon an adventure junkie could appreciate, but for the people living here it’s a common and mostly unremarkable event.
Now if you’ve ever heard the racket that 180 kilometre an hour wind makes when it meets up with previously immovable objects—trees, houses, etc.—it won’t come as a surprise when I say there was little sleep to be had on Freedom Hill last night. If you’ve never had the pleasure, let me tell you it is an enormous ruckus, a great, apocalyptic cacophony, an anguished, elemental howl that two people in close proximity must themselves howl to be heard over. Such must be the sound of hell.
Nor was the noise the only thing that kept us wakeful. You see, our cabin has no foundation. It is sitting up on concrete cinder blocks in the way of olden times, and every blast of the almighty sou’easter had it rocking so hard we were convinced it was going to blow away. Though I love the concept of flight, and the magic carpets of Arabian Nights fame have always intrigued me, flyng houses hold no such appeal.
As the cabin shuddered and creaked and moaned against the onslaught, we huddled under the covers and waited for the ultimate disaster that would put an end to our homesteading endeavours, and possibly us. Here, we thought, was the ultimate test of our building skills. If the house somehow stayed put, would the roof hold? Would the section joints sustain? Did we put enough nails in her? And what the hell was that noise?
It was a long and unnerving night, and by morning we were thanking any and all deities that our roof was still attached. It did, however, take some courage to look out the window. While the truck was still where I’d parked her, she sat rocking against the gale like a ship moored beyond the breakwater. Less substantial items, like the solar lights, had long since been uprooted and relocated, and trees that had just yesterday been in full autumn bloom, are today completely bare of leaves.
At least the ones that remain standing are.
Such is the way of Mother Nature that even in her extremity she benefits us. We counted three thirty foot trees felled by the force of the wind—a literal windfall for us, as they will in short order become fuel for our winter fire. There may be more out there, but on a day like today a walk in the woods could reasonably get a person committed…or buried.
She likes things tidy, too, does Mother Nature. There isn’t a soul in the valley that will have to rake the lawn this fall…the sou’easter is surely the ultimate leaf blower.
Though the winds should diminish by late afternoon, sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof; tomorrow will be time enough to begin the salvage operation, the search and rescue of those bits of our existence blown hither and yon by the wind. Tomorrow the people will come out of their homes and nonchalantly begin to repair and rebuild, as they have ever done. For today we’ll stay warm and thankful by the fire and watch Nature exhibit her mastery as the trees double over and tomorrow’s clouds race across the sky.
It may have been the worst wind we’ve experienced here so far, but it isn’t the first, and it won’t be the last. Truth be told, it’s just another wild day on a wild island where a 50 kilometre wind is just a breeze and hurricanes are just another part of life.
There’s already another one on the way.