Sandy, The Unwelcome Visitor

For the next two hours I sat by the counter watching as the water level slowly began to sink. I checked my cell phone. I couldn't get a signal. I never even thought to try the wall phone, figuring that with the power out, so would be the phone service. That's why when it rang; I almost fell off the counter.

"Hello, hello!" The connection was bad, crackling noises almost made it impossible to hear my wife's frantic voice.

"Oh my god, you're safe. Why didn't you call me?"

"I tried my cell but couldn't get a signal. I never even thought that the land line would still be working."

"Well, how bad was it?"

"It was pretty bad. I don't think I ever want to go through this again. We have about a foot of water in the house. We lost the couches, the washing machine and the refrigerator for sure. I'm going to have to take off all the paneling, and at least the lower couple of feet of insulation. I don't know if we have any damage outside because I don't want to walk through this water. It feels pretty cold. How did you guys do up there?"

"Not bad, we still have power. One of the trees came down but it fell between the two houses. Everything's fine at my parents' house. They had no damage at all. When do you think you will be home?"

"I don't know; give me a couple of days. I can't start cleaning this place out until the water recedes."

That's when the noise got really bad and then the line went dead. I hung up the phone. All I could do now was wait.

It took another four hours or so for the water to retreat enough to allow my house to drain to the point that the tile was visible in the kitchen and bathroom and the porch slate was exposed. I put on my boots and sloshed my way over the living room carpet and out the front door. There was still water in the street but you could tell that the water was receding back into the bay. I walked around the house looking for damage. There didn't appear to be any damage to my house, the roof shingles were intact, the deck in the back was still there and the storage box and fence appeared to have weathered the storm. I walked over to the end of the driveway and peered up and down the street. On the bay side, everything appeared to be normal except for the water in the street. Someone who just came here would look at the scene and determine that there was no damage at all. Of course I knew better. All of the houses between here and the bay had at least a foot of water in them. The ones on the bay side of route 35 probably had more than that.

I turned and looked up the street towards the ocean. The water line was about four houses up from mine. Maybe the twenty houses between me and the beach fared better than I did. For their sakes I hoped so. I could just make out the beachfront houses. Something was wrong; a couple of the houses right on the ocean front appeared to be touching each other. Wanting to see more, I began walking in that direction. I crossed over the highway and now I could see more clearly that at least one of the beach front houses was knocked off of its footings. The closer I got to the beach the more apparent the damage became.

When I reached the top of the street, I turned and headed north along the road between the beach front houses and the beach view houses. There were pieces of wood and household items all along the road. Sand was piled up against the beach view houses, like drifting snow after a winter storm. Several had sustained severe damage; windows and doors were blown in or were missing all together. I could see that they were filled with sand and water.

About a hundred yards up the road one of the beachfront houses had been lifted clear of its footings and had come to rest against the house across the street. I was devastated. These were my neighbors, some of them were friends, and others were people that you just waved to when you saw them on the beach. I found one of the beach entrances and walked up to the beach. I was standing in the same spot that I had seen the couple standing before the storm hit. The beach had been flattened. The dune that had been started only a few years before to protect the beach front houses was gone, the storm fences were gone, and the beach now had a five or six foot drop off to the ocean. The ocean itself was still in turmoil, the waves breaking at all angles to the beach, trying to take even more sand back into the ocean.

I turned and gazed back at the once much sought after beachfront houses. Many of the houses were in shambles; whole sections of the houses were torn away revealing their storm ravaged interiors. Some were completely demolished; where a house once stood only a pile of debris remained. Miraculously, several houses appeared to be intact, like the lone house that remains in a neighborhood after a tornado passes through, there was no apparent reason for it.

I had seen enough for one day. I walked back to my street and back to my house. It was eerily quiet, except for the wind and the sound of the waves crashing on the shore line, there was no noise, no movement of any vehicles or people. It seemed that I was the only person around for miles in either direction.

I got back to the house and began taking pictures with my cell phone of all the rooms. I would need these for the insurance adjuster. Thankfully, I still had flood insurance on the house and its contents. It was four o'clock when I was finished. I still had a little less than two hours before it got dark. I went to our bedroom and retrieved my small tool box from the top shelf of our closet. I didn't have a lot of tools here, there were no power tools; then again, they would have been of no use now. I did have a couple of small pry bars, a hammer, a utility knife with spare blades in the handle, a few screwdrivers, a pair of pliers and an adjustable wrench. These were the tools that I had left here from the time when I bought the house and had done the renovations to the interior. My immediate goal was to begin the drying-out process. Without power, I couldn't use the air conditioning, so my first job was to get as much of the damaged furniture out of the house. I started with the carpet in the living room and bedrooms. With the utility knife I was able to cut up the water logged carpet into manageable strips. I started a pile in the driveway, leaving room for my SUV, which I planned to retrieve the next day.

By the time I got all the carpet out of the house it was already dark. I looked around the inside of the house. There was still a lot of dirt and the concrete slab was still wet, but at least it was a start. I figured that I'd better eat something. I hadn't eaten anything since I finished the cereal for breakfast. Looking in the cabinet, I pulled out a can of chicken rice soup. I took a pot from the pile by the sink and tried to light the stove. With no power there was no spark to ignite the gas, so I grabbed matches, turned on the burner, and waited for the smell of gas. I could barely hear anything but I tried to light what gas was coming out. The flame started but almost immediately went out again. Great, there was no gas pressure. For tonight at least, I'd have to eat cold soup out of the can.

I turned on the radio and listed to the news while I ate. There were interviews of our Governor Christie and New York's Governor Cuomo indicating that they were going to inspect the damages to their respective states the following day. I heard of an entire neighborhood being destroyed by fire during the storm because the flooding prevented the fire department from getting close enough to fight the fire which jumped from one house to the next. The newscasters were talking about millions of people being without power in the tri state area and that there were no estimates as to when the power would be restored. I hadn't heard it before, but much of the area had already been declared by the president as a federal disaster area, even before the true extent of the damages was known. I shut off the radio, gathered the dry cushions from the sofa and got ready for another night on the counter. At least tonight would be a little more comfortable.

Before I knew it, it was morning. The first signs of the morning sun were coming through the bedroom windows. It was the first sunshine I'd seen in over four days. I got up, walked to the bathroom. After taking care of business, I went to flush the toilet. The tank emptied, but the water was not refilling the tank. Terrific, no water pressure, therefore no water and no bathroom, it could get ugly real quickly around here. That's when I remembered that I had about thirty gallons of water in the hot water tank above the bathroom. I could use that to fill up pots of water and therefore, fill up the toilet tank. At least I'd have a place to go to the bathroom. I still had some bottled water in the refrigerator to drink and there was always the rest of the beer. I pulled the fuse out of the circuit that sent power to the hot water heater. Running the hot water heater with no water in it was the fastest way to burn out the heating elements and I had no way of knowing when the power would come back on and when we would get our water service back.

Since the sun was shining, I took the opportunity to open all the windows and doors. I wanted as much air flow as possible to help dry out the house. I could tell that the paneling was damaged beyond repair. It was cheap stuff, there was no way that the finish could be saved or repaired. I spent the entire morning prying off every sheet of paneling in the house and tossed it on the pile in the driveway. When that was done, I started to remove the insulation. I had to remove the bottom four feet before I found dry insulation because the moisture was wicking up the paper. By the middle of the afternoon I had removed all the wet insulation and had five large garbage bags stuffed with insulation out in the driveway. It was a good day's work. Satisfied with my progress, I took my bike and headed north on Route 35. In many places the road was covered with sand which made the ride more difficult than normal. I traveled about three miles, noting the damage that had been done by the storm. I could see that the houses on the ocean side of the island had experienced the worst of the storm's fury. But it wasn't until I got as far as the Thunderbird hotel that I realized just how bad the damage was. Just to the south of the hotel was a large plot of open sand, there were perhaps a dozen small fires coming out of the sand itself and the smell of natural gas was in the air. I wasn't sure what I was looking at, then it occurred to me; before the storm there were approximately seventy small cottages on what was now nothing but a sandy lot. Everything was gone, washed off the island and presumably ended up in the bay.

I traveled another couple of miles north until my way was blocked by a house which now sat completely in the highway. I got off my bike walked it around the obstruction and continued a short distance further. I stopped once again. I was standing in front of my friend's in-law's house, or what was left of it. It was a two story house that had been in the family for sixty years. Now the side facing the ocean had been ripped way making it look like a child's doll house, the sand under one corner of the house had been washed completely out from under the foundation and the house was leaning into the hole left behind. I looked further up the road, huge chunks of the concrete road were laying scattered about, the houses that used to be on either side of the road that led to the Mantoloking Bridge, one of the three bridges off the island were gone, along with the road that led to the bridge. A house sat out on what was now a newly formed island, the only access was by boat. Worse still was the fact that I could see waves of ocean water crossing the island in a newly formed inlet towards the bay. This was going to take months if not years to fix. The two exits off the island to the north were effectively closed.

I got back to the house a little before dark, parked the bike and headed down to the parking lot to retrieve my SUV. A quick inspection showed that the water line had not reached the bottom of the doors. At least that was some good news. I got in and started the engine. I let it run for a few minutes and was just about ready to head back to the house, when I spotted someone walking over to the car next to mine. He looked familiar, but I just couldn't remember how I knew him. Just before he got into his vehicle he looked me straight in the eye. It was a look of recognition. I opened my window.

"Bob?"

"Jack?"

"Hey," I said as I got out, "how are you doing? What are you doing down here? I haven't seen you since we graduated from high school."

"I have a place just down the street. How about you?"

"We have a place in Unit 3. I figured this parking lot was a better place to stash my car, than leaving by the house while I rode out the storm."

"Same here. You doing anything tonight? Why don't you come back to the house with me? I'm planning on barbequing any of the meat I have left in the fridge. I have some beer in a cooler. It may not be ice cold, but it is ocean water-cold."

"That's the best offer I've had all day. Lead the way."

That evening we had a great meal: hamburgers and hot dogs, no buns, and a can of beans, all cooked on his propane gas grill. We reminisced about high school, talked about what we were doing now, and how we bought our beach houses. Over our third can of beer, he told me about his journey south of there.

"This morning I headed south on my bike down 35 South. There's a lot of sand and debris covering the road. I'm not sure if it's passable by car. I headed out to the bay side drive. The south bound lane has huge sink holes and much of the road has collapsed. I saw a lot of damaged houses; some seemed to have been blown off their foundations; some have collapsed; all, I'm sure were flooded. I traveled the north bound lane south as far as Ortley Beach. You can't imagine the devastation down there. It looks like a war zone. Piles of rubble everywhere. Houses turned sideways in the middle of the street. I headed out to the ocean along 7th Avenue. The Surf Club is gone; destroyed, just a pile of rubble. I've been clubbing there for thirty years. It was an institution. I headed into Seaside. I wanted to check out the boardwalk. Some places made out OK, but the ride piers got hit hard. The Casino Pier was the hardest hit. The rollercoaster is sitting in the ocean where it fell when the pier collapsed. Only half of the log flume is still there, the rest is just gone. Sections of the board walk are torn up; all that's left are the concrete pilings. I'd say at least 90% of the town has suffered at least some damage. I traveled further south, to Seaside Park. I was sure that I'd find large sections of the community in ruins. Amazingly, it looks like the dunes saved much of the area from devastation. From there I tried to get over to the Route 37 Bridge. I wanted to see if I could get off the island that way. I got close to the bridge, I could see it, but Island Heights, that small community at the foot of the bridge, is still under about eight feet of water. I'm not sure when -- or if -- we'll be able to use the bridge. It depends on the condition of the approach and the supports of the bridge itself. That's when I decided to return home.

"As you can see, I lucked out. This house seemed to have built with flooding in mind and has a couple of extra rows of block in its foundation. The water flooded the crawl space, I lost some building materials I had stored underneath the house, but the water never reached the floor joists. I got lucky. How did you make out?"

I told him about the flooding in the house, and my tour of the island to the north.

"I guess we're stuck here for a few more days at least. You want another beer?"

"No, I've had my limit. I'd better get back to the house. Everything is still open; I'm trying to dry it out as best I can. Thanks for everything. It's been great seeing you again. If you're heading up north, stop in. I don't have much food left but I do have a few cans of beer. When this is all over let's get together."

I drove back to the house. I had no worries of getting a DWI ticket. I closed all the windows, lit a couple of candles and settled in for the night.

I woke up Thursday morning to clear sunny skies and a cool breeze. I didn't really have much to do. I opened all the windows and doors to continue the drying out process. I also began the winterizing the house. I shut off the water at the street, drained all the pipes, including the outside shower. I pulled the other fuse out of the box, effectively shutting of the electric to the whole house. The only thing remaining to do was the alcohol in the toilet and drains and to empty the water heater which at this point was my only source of water. I'd leave that until just before I left the island, whenever that was. I moved all the undamaged furniture back into its usual position, and positioned the two damaged couches in the porch. That afternoon, Bob stopped in and helped me put the couches outside. I'd need a hand truck to remove the refrigerator and the washing machine. Those could wait until the Spring. We stopped and had a beer. That's when we saw the first vehicle heading north on Route 35. It appeared to be an Army Humvee. We walked up to the corner. A second Humvee was approaching. They stopped in front of us; they were from the NJ National Guard.

"You two guys belong here?"

"Of course, we're home owners. We both rode out the storm. Is Route 37 open to traffic?"

"Yes, one way only, out bound. You have to get off the island by four o'clock today. The island has been declared uninhabitable for now. Get your things, close up your houses and get out. The Guard will be patrolling the island in order to enforce compliance. The bay is being patrolled by the state troopers. We are trying to prevent looting."

"When do you think we can return?"

"Sir, I don't have that information. My orders are to get any people that are still on the island off as soon as possible. I'll check back here later today and I'd better not find you here. Now get home and then get out."

With that they continued north bound and we returned to my house. I said goodbye to Bob, who returned home, and I finished closing up the house for the winter; it took about a half an hour. I locked the doors and got in my car and headed south on Route 35 north as Bob had suggested. I passed a couple of additional National Guard vehicles, each stopped me and asked me where I was going and told me to get off the island. I was only too happy to comply.

Crossing over the bridge was a bittersweet experience. On one hand, I was going home, to my wife, a warm bed, and cooked meals. On the other hand, I was leaving the Jersey Shore and had no clue when I was going to be able to return.

Once I was on the other side, I could see staging areas, where utility trucks, and construction equipment were getting ready to begin the clean up and restoration of the infrastructure, step one in the rebuilding process. How long that was going to take no one knew. The next and most important question involved what would be allowed to be rebuilt and under what restrictions and regulations. That was going to be for future discussions and I'm sure there were going to be many heated debates on the subject. I checked my cell. Eureka, I had service once again. I pulled off the road into a parking lot and dialed my wife's cell.

"Thank god! I've been worried sick about you, where are you?"

"I'm on Route 37 in Toms River, I'm coming home."

Epilog:

As of the writing of this story, the home owners on the island have finally been allowed limited access to their homes. They can enter the island every three days depending on their location. They have to have a sticker on their vehicle identifying themselves as a home owner. Currently, however the island is closed for the week in order to re-pressurize the gas lines. This obviously is for safety purposes. The home owners have to get permits so that their electric meters, which had been pulled from every house on the island, can be reinstalled. The sewer lines are only now being addressed. As soon as it is deemed safe, the water will be turned back on. Hopefully all that will be accomplished soon and those who can will be allowed to re-inhabit their homes.