To Run or Not to Run?
by Lisa Olsen
October 2003
They say everyone has a story to tell at some point during their life. I had always fantasized that mine would involve sharing ways to invest a lottery windfall - the only problem with that is that NC doesn’t have a state lottery - and that’s where I live, along with my husband Bill, Ali and Olaf - our fearless Pyrs, and about 32 alpacas. We call ourselves Alpaca-Atlantic. We’re actually located on the north side of the Albermarle Sound, but it connects to the Atlantic if you swim to the east, just past what’s left of the Outer Banks.
I’ve just dropped Bill off at the hospital and have a few free hours before the insurance adjuster arrives, so if you don’t mind - I’ve got a story to tell.
It all started back on September 11th. There was a hurricane named Isabelle that was reported to be a Category Five – with winds that often exceeded 155 mph. As a woman over 40, I’ve heard enough weathermen in my life to understand their need to sensationalize interesting weather. It’s what keeps them employed. I turned the channel to the Tonight Show.
On September 14th, I received an E-mail from a dear friend, Jo Overbey of Rock Chimeny Farm Alpacas. Jo wrote, “I have been worrying as I watch Isabel reports….If you need to move animals, I could probably fit you in temporarily…Just let me know. And if you need to evacuate and need assistance hauling, also let me know!” This offer caused me to ponder the situation - but only momentarily. Jo had recently downsized her herd due to wrist problems - the last thing she needed was our bunch sending her to bed every night tossing in pain! And she’s such a dear friend, that I know she would actually do that for me. I dismissed the offer; after all, Bill and I pride ourselves in being independent, tough, resourceful, and self-sufficient. We could manage, right? Between the two of us, Bill and I had spent more than 42 years in the military. We actually met during Desert Storm - but that’s another story! The point being that we’ve never viewed ourselves as sissies that ran from hardship. We toughed out Hurricane Floyd in ‘99, we could certainly handle Isabelle. But we weren’t going into this blindly, we had a plan.
Years ago, the first building that took form on our property was Bill’s shop building. Some might say he had his priorities in line, but it was actually part of the big plan. We build the shop building ourselves - not something I would do again in a million years - but it was built to local specs and was designed to withstand 300 mph winds. It was a solid building - I know personally as we lived in it for the 3 years it took to build our “12 month” house! Anyway, once we moved out, Bill constructed a spray booth in what used to be our “cocoon,” but it also doubled as an emergency shelter for the alpacas. We stocked it with bales of hay, bags of feed, buckets upon buckets of water, and portable fence panels to keep the boys from making congical visits with the girls. Our plan was to move the alpacas and dogs to this shelter at the onset of the storm, leaving us free to worry about other things.
By September 15th, Hurricane Isabelle, aka Izzy, had been downgraded to a Category 4. The weathermen sounded almost depressed.
On September 16th, Jo Overbey wrote, ” I would (like to) come today to help move some up this way. We are expecting some winds, etc., but nothing like what is headed your way! I am sure we could find space….” I assured Jo that we had it under control and told her of our disaster plan. She seemed satisfied that it appeared we knew what we were doing.
Later that afternoon, Craig Conticchio of Trilogy Alpacas, called by phone to ask if he and Lynn could take our herd during the storm. They also offered to head out with their trailer and help move the herd to Greenville. I assured them we would be fine and told Craig I was concerned about stressing our six pregnant girls, which were due to birth at any time. They had heard my soapbox lecture on reducing stress more than once, and also seemed OK with our shelter plans. They didn’t press the issue. I can remember thinking that their place flooded worse than ours during Hurricane Floyd and after hanging up, I felt a bit guilty that I hadn’t reciprocated with offering to move their herd to our place. I was sure he would have turned us down, but still – I should have offered.
On September 17th, I received a call from Maryland. It was Linda Baker of Legacy Acres Alpacas wanting to know if there was anything she could do to help. Heck! She was also in Izzy’s path. I was tempted to take her up on her offer as I was sure I would get one of her fantastic cheesecakes out of the deal - but also said, “No thanks,” although my mouth was watering!
Bill and I spent the day doing pre-hurricane chores. He mowed the pastures, pulled the boats up on shore and did some other manly things. I washed clothes, paid bills, went food shopping and read E-mail one last time. My friends know I have little time (or patience) for “fun” stuff on the computer and do me the favor of not including me on their mass mailings. Every once in a while though, someone just has to send me something. Kaaren Roberts from Wood Ridge Alpacas had included me in a group mailing on the 17th. It read as follows:
And saw the sun above,
I softly said, “Good morning, Lord,
Bless everyone I love.”
And right away I thought of you
And said a loving prayer,
That He would bless you specially,
And keep you free from care.
I thought of all the happiness
A day could hold in store,
I wished it all for you because
No one deserves it more.
Since I retired from the military, I don’t wear a watch - don’t need to, don’t want to. If I need to know the time, I can holler for Bill. I’m glad I was watchless on the 18th because I would have been horrified to learn that time actually can stand still. I swear that day lasted 2 months!
By early morning, Bill started positioning the vehicles for safety and escape. I can’t remember what I was doing, but I’m sure I was working really hard. The generator was in place, fuel was in cans where we thought we would need them, all containers were filled with fresh water, the computer was unplugged, and we were ready. I caught bits and pieces of local news shows. I remember hearing the listing of mandatory evacuation counties. They hadn’t announced Perquimans County yet, but had called counties just north and east of us. Bill and I had already agreed to stay – even if Perquimans was evacuated. I remember laughing when I heard a newsman announce that Virginia Beach police had requested that non-evacuating residents write their name on their forearm with a permanent marker, for identification purposes.
By late morning I had the girls in the barn and Bill had the boys under the overhang. Before we could make plans to move the herd to their shelter, it was too late. Within ten minutes it went from, “The wind’s starting to pick up,” to, “Get in the barn quick!” The wind came in with a roar. It began raining leaves, acorns, bird nests, branches, and huge limbs. Remember all those beautiful shade trees I spoke of? They had become the enemy and were trying to kill us!
We agreed this was just the beginning and decided to risk it and move the alpacas into the shelter. What choice did we have? Since the boy’s overhang was actually attached to the shop building, we decided to move them first, enclose them with the portable gate panels, then move the girls in. The rain started before we could reach the boys. It wasn’t just rain. With the force of the wind, the harmless water became painful, blinding, pellets that stung like hornets.
The boy’s overhang was 20’ by 60’ and ran the length of the shop building. It was built purposely on the south side to block the animals from the nor’easters that hit the area from time to time. They were out of the wind and out of the rain. We only have 6 adult males so moving them around the corner from the overhang and through a door shouldn’t be hard……right? Wrong. Not sure exactly when it happened as neither of us had been in the house for hours – but the electric was out. That was the one thing we absolutely never thought of. We knew we would lose it, heck, we lose power during every tiny storm – but we never thought we would lose power so soon! We had flashlights all over the place, but never thought we would need an alternative source of lighting to move our herd into a pitch black building. Being the resourceful engineer that he is, Bill quickly moved his classic ’69 Camaros (I would have just said cars – but Bill helped me edit “my” story!) into position and turned the headlights on. It was a good try, but the effect turned our well-planned shelter into a blinding, frightening cave of death. The boys wanted absolutely no part of it – can’t say I blamed them. So much for our shelter. I was wondering if it was too late to take Jo or Craig up on their offers.
On to Plan B.
Bill decided I should stay in the large barn with the girls. Our concern was that if the barn didn’t feel like it was going to hold, we needed to be able to get as many as the girls out as we could – any way we could. The only way to monitor that was to be in the barn. He took charge of the property, the vehicles, the house, the dogs, and the boys. Sounded like a fair split of responsibilities to me! I had pre-positioned a radio with multiple sets of batteries in each of the shelters – but don’t think I ever turned a single one on. I really didn’t care to hear what someone else thought was going on – I needed to be able to hear what was going on. If the hayloft started giving way, if the walls started splitting, if the roof started peeling, or if a tree started falling – I wanted to be able to respond – or at least, wanted to be able to pray!
I had to keep the windows on three sides of the barn closed at all times but left the windows open on the safe side to keep from going crazy. Our barns and overhangs have metal roofing. You can’t imagine the noise level generated from the constant barrage of things falling on, or being thrown onto a metal roof. I never knew if the sound of a large limb falling would be followed by the remainder of the tree or not. I grew a significant number of gray hairs on the 18th.
Our girl’s barn allows for three groupings of animals. When I left the stall doors open, the 20 girls and crias tended to kush in a huddle. I thought it best to split the herd. If the barn was going to give, I didn’t want all our eggs in one basket. It was clear that they were content to be inside the barn and never once attempted to even look out a window. For the most part, I would say that the alpacas hid their stress level very well – with the exception of Julia, and especially Lacey. This poor girl just couldn’t handle it. I minimized her pacing by reducing her space, but you could see that every falling tree, every limb hitting the roof, every object slamming into the barn just made her jump in fear. She started to hyperventilate – which is something I had never seen in an alpaca.
I’ve used Rescue Remedy in the past – not sure it had ever done any good, but I figured it couldn’t hurt. Big mistake. Within minutes Lacey was drooling uncontrollably. It was so bad I feared dehydration. I washed her mouth out hoping to remove any trace of the five drops I had administered, but couldn’t control her salivation which seemed to last for hours.
Bill stopped by from time to time to check on his girls. He was careful to walk between trees and somehow remained on his feet for the most part. Thinking I could also be of help outside the barn, I attempted to secure a couple wheel barrows and was knocked off my feet twice within seconds. I retreated to the barn and let them blow.
A view from the barn of what used to be one of our pastures.
The winds over our area averaged 105 miles per hour with gusts of 115. The Albermarle Sound flooded 7 to 11 feet above normal tide level. If Bill hadn’t of raised the elevation under the girl’s barn prior to constructing it – it would have been under water. The Sound consumed our entire back pasture and threatened to consume the barn we were in. Our pasture was cover not just with water, but with water deep enough to support waves! I was horrified. We had no idea how high the water level was going to rise. The problem with flooding is that it loosens the root structure of trees. Those same trees that provide wonderful cooling shade were now falling all around us. The oaks and hickorys were falling with their roots intact.
The cypress were snapping like twigs. You can’t imagine the thoughts that go through your mind when you hear the groan of a tree’s roots lifting from the ground as it starts to go over. I got to the point that I just sat and listened in a surreal state. There was nothing I could do. I had never felt so powerless in my life.
At one point Bill showed up and told me a tree was about to fall onto my barn. I looked beyond him and sure enough, a large oak was coming down right onto the barn. It came out by the roots with a giant slab of earth 12′ tall. It fell over so slowly that it punctured, but never came through the roof. Keep in mind now that it wouldn’t have just been a tree through the roof. It would have been a tree onto the hay loft that would have given way and crushed everything below. I could just hear Jo and Craig saying, “What a tragedy, they should have listened to us.”
By about 6pm the eye of the storm passed overhead and gave us a brief reprieve. The dogs took advantage of being able to walk upright and made a dash for my barn. When I opened the door to let them in I was horrified to find that a few of our bantam chickens had been locked out of the barn and in the storm. I don’t know how they survived but they were most grateful to be scooped up and brought inside.
The second half of Izzy was the same as the first, but from a different direction. When you have winds in excess of 100 miles per hour the rain doesn’t come down, it comes across. Within minutes, the boys were soaked as the rain now flew horizontally directly under their overhang. We quickly moved a very willing group of machos into their barn, which by this point had lost much of its roof. The hay loft protected the stall area from much of the water – but that’s because our winter supply of hay was absorbing it like a sponge. Not a good situation. Once again, trees started slamming to the ground. Things really didn’t let up until almost midnight.
We lost about 26 full trees by the roots, and another dozen tree-tops. We lost roofing from every structure on the property. We lost our entire rear pasture fence with large gaping holes throughout the side, front and interior fencing. We lost our winter forage as the recently planted seed washed away. We lost our pasture as the salt content from the flooding killed most of the grass. We lost our winter supply of hay. We lost water and electricity for a week. But we didn’t lose a single life. Everyone, even poor Lacey and the chickens made it through just fine.
Bill is in the hospital because he fell off the barn roof while making repairs. His heel bone shattered and he’s supposed to be laid up for 6 months – so before this is over, I may lose my mind! I made it through Izzy alright, but I’m not sure I can survive having Bill confined to the house for 6 months!
When our alpaca-friends heard of our situation, the outpouring of emotional support was unbelievable. I’m not going to mention names because I’m over 40 and sure to leave someone out – but you know who you are and I thank you all from the bottom of my heart. Several of our customers and dear friends refused to take no-thanks for an answer and insisted on giving me a hand with the clean-up. To Kate, Cara (and hubby), Danette (and family), and Tom – your hauling, heaving, dragging, raking and pitching touched my heart.
The alpaca community as a whole is amazing. I’m proud to be a part of it. I’ll never admit out loud that I’m grateful to Izzy for anything, but as a result of this, there’s much that we’ve gained. We’ve gained the knowledge that no matter how independent, tough, resourceful, and self-sufficient you think you are – there are times you should pack it in and run like the devil! We gained an appreciation for the depth of friendships we’ve developed within the alpaca community. We’ve learned that alpacas don’t turn gray like we do in the face of death (bummer). And we’ve gained a new perspective on our situation – we need to move!!! Alpacas and waterfront living aren’t a good mix. How does Alpaca Atlantic of Tennessee sound??? (We’re not kidding about this!)
I believe the more horrible an experience, the greater potential there is to do something positive, by sharing what you’ve learned. If by sharing our shortfalls and windfalls, we can help any of you – then this experience will have a bright side in our memories.
Read my tips on How to Survive a Storm.
