Galveston, Texas, One Year after Hurricane Ike

Heron-cam, aka H.C. Bird, here: Last Sunday, I escorted Jake and Just Harry to their favorite animal camp and then flew with their folks to Galveston for an annual seaport convention. These conventions are scheduled at different seaports in the US and Canada years in advance. Ironically, the year it was scheduled in New Orleans -- 2006 -- was the year after the area was devastated by Hurricane Katrina, and the year it was scheduled for Galveston -- 2009 -- was the year after Hurricane Ike. Next year, it's scheduled for Halifax -- so history won't repeat itself just yet -- but the irony was not lost on the hundreds of convention attendees. As someone said, where the sea meets the land is where people (and we water birds?) like to settle -- and that's where they are often most vulnerable.

Once we got to Galveston, I was so overwhelmed by the awesomeness of the sea and the fishing opportunities that I kind of abandoned my post and left it to the Boyz' Mom to describe what they experienced. Anyway, since this is serious stuff, she is probably better at it than I -- a mere flighty bird, despite my impressive wingspan -- might be.

So, the Boyz' Mom here. I warn you, no cute photos of Jake and Just Harry -- just some impressions of the heroic efforts the City and the Port of Galveston have made since Ike hit the Island a year ago September. These impressions were all the more striking because, most of the time we were there, the Gulf of Mexico and Galveston Bay were grey and roiling as several severe storms passed through. Our hotel was right next to the seawall that was built after the 1900 hurricane, so we had a front row seat to observe what it must have felt like in the hours before Ike.

Along the seawall, a monument erected to commemorate the 1900 hurricane has been transformed into a tribute to survivors of the 2008 storm. Letters, photos, mementos, dried flowers -- all dot the low fence that protects the statue -- staying there until the new winds fade them or rip them to shreds.

So the sun, when it shone, was a precious sight and more like the spirit of the community Everywhere downtown are these signs of the community's comitment to the future and markers that show the height of Ike's storm surge and flood waters.
In many instances, the markers compare the level from 1900 with levels from other storms and then -- at the top, -- the high waters from Ike.I'm five feet four inches -- so you can get a sense of those levels from where the marker is on this brick building (that's not a wig -- it's wind-swept hair!).One of the events we attended was at the historic 1894 Opera House. I had visited it years ago when I did a cruise study for the port and remembered that special feeling of being surrounded by wood paneling and carpeting and other elements that dated back a hundred years or more. Before the event started, though, we were advised to look around and imagine 13 feet of water where we were sitting!! To the City's triumph over matter, everything has been restored, to the best of their ability -- new carpet, new wood, new seats - - and the Opera House is used for events throughout the year. --its memories surviving in the imaginations of its visitors. The same thing is true with the historic Tremont Hotel. The water levels weren't as high as at the Opera House-- but the first floor had to be renovated, with new furniture, and now bears just the slightest lingering whiff of the storm. We stopped to see the Bishop's Palace -- which had lower level flooding -- and is still being repaired. And passed by Ashton Villa -- which looks impeccable.

Ah, but then the last two days we were there, the roar of the sea was replaced by the roar of something quite different: the unforgettable sound made by the 100,000 to 300,000 bikers who had rode into town for the Annual Lone Star Bikers Rally!!! Streets leading to the main downtown area -- the Strand -- were closed off so they could be filled with tents and vendors selling street food and BEER.,.
Jack and I ventured along the main drag and drew some curious looks at our inappropriate attire. One "biker babe" approached Jack, who was wearing a sports jacket, and asked:"Did you forget your motorcycle, honey???"

While we were downtown, we stopped in a few shops and talked with Galvestonians -- most of them what they like to call "BOI" -- Born on the Island.

Amazing people. They showed us the photos of what their businesses looked like just after the storm. Told us how everything had to be replaced. And expressed that commitment to starting over which was so evident throughout the community.

And yes, we asked about the dogs (and cats) -- and just about everyone had a story of rescuing five, ten, even sixteen or more animals, finding food for them, and providing shelter until they could be restored to their owners -- or other help could be found.

Having lived through several hurricanes ourselves, we know what it is like to open your door after the storm has passed -- assuming you still have a door -- and find your surroundings completely different. But 13 feet of water is kind of hard to visualize. And even harder to imagine is the tireless energy that went into getting the town and the port ready for business and visitors in one very short year. We were awed.