34 www.ReadMPM.com | www.MountPleasantMagazine.com | www.MountPleasantPodcast.com An Isle of Palms City Council member reinforces the warning: “Be prepared for the worst,” she says grimly. “There are snakes, streets washed completely away, holes filled with water perhaps 10 feet deep. Gas is leaking on the island. There is raw sewage and dead animals. Keep your hands away from your face.” The dreary group, soaked to the bone, stumbles across the dock. There is probably no transportation. How will we walk from one end of the island to the other and back again in an hour-and-a-half? In these conditions? I admit that I am ready to give up. But then my daughter-in-law, JoAnn, bolsters my sunken spirits. “We’ve come too far to give up now,” she insists. “Let’s walk to Palm Boulevard. Maybe we’ll find a ride.” And we did – a pickup truck pulling a flatbed trailer. The gang splashes through the mud and climbs onto the truck. The driver avoids washed out streets by steering into yards and around house furnishings. We finally come to my house at 4th Avenue. “Hey,” I say to JoAnn. “It looks OK. It’s still standing.” We hurry over to question the appearance of normalcy. The question is answered: The house has fallen off its foundation, six feet down and six feet over plants and bushes. We enter the house over the broken deck and through the sliding glass door that has slid off its track. The fallen chimney is a minor obstruction. A giant named Hugo has vented his wrath, tumbling the furniture into muddy heaps of junk. A 4-foot wave of water has drowned the birds in the cage, corroded tools and appliances and destroyed clothing and upholstery. Utter chaos! I am silent – shocked, numbed and in disbelief. We pick up a few things, stuff a few mementos into a plastic bag – a family clock, a photo album. Then we turn to leave; there’s nothing more to do. Back on Palm Boulevard, people struggle along the street carrying bags of salvage. One man comes out of a ruin with a cat in his arms. “She was still in the house. She’s all I can save. Glad my wife isn’t with me right now – she’s pregnant and probably couldn’t take it.” We make it back to the marina by noon, taking the back roads this time. The boat doesn’t leave as scheduled, and we wait in line for an hour. Later, we feel like celebrities as television reporters ask what we found and how we feel. Overall, the voyage back to Patriots Point is uneventful, even a relief. We had seen the worst and managed to survive. For more articles related to Hurricane Hugo, visit mountpleasantmagazine.com/tags/hugo. our town
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