It’s Reader Photo Friday!
Thanks to Mandy Bennett Roberts for this image of an ominous-looking storm over the Atlantic Ocean.
It’s Reader Photo Friday!
Thanks to Mandy Bennett Roberts for this photo of a summer squall over the Sea of Abaco.
Just last night, I wondered why we haven’t had as many thunderstorms in recent days as we normally do this time of year. This morning, when I logged onto Facebook, Bahamian meteorologist Wayne Neely had posted an explanation:
“I have been getting a lot of calls and emails,” he wrote, “about the appearance of the ‘milky white skies’ and the red-hued appearance of the rising and setting sun over The Bahamas for the last few days. The haze is Saharan dust that has drifted more than 4,000 miles from Africa, and abnormally heavy concentrations currently are blanketing the main region of the Atlantic where storms develop.”
Thunderstorm approaches New Plymouth – Green Turtle Cay.
Storm clouds approach New Plymouth – Green Turtle Cay, Abaco, Bahamas.
This is the second post in a three-part series. Here’s part one: September 3, 1932: The Calm Before the Storm.
There had been talk on Green Turtle Cay about a hurricane, but the only forecasting tools at the time were barometers. And though they were falling, indicating the approach of inclement weather, there was no way to predict where or when the storm would hit, or how serious it might be.
Thick, black storm clouds gathered in the eastern sky on Sunday evening. On Monday, September 5, New Plymouth residents woke to pelting rain and howling winds that intensified throughout the morning.
By afternoon, according to Bahamian meteorologist Wayne Neely in The Great Bahamian Hurricanes of 1899 and 1932, the first known and documented Category 5 hurricane ever to hit the Bahamas was battering Green Turtle Cay.
Sustained winds reached 160 mph, with gusts as high as 200 mph, and a storm surge of 20 feet.
For three days, the storm stalled over the cay, hurling boats and large chunks of debris around like toys. Houses flooded and were smashed. Some fell off their footings. Most collapsed all together.
Forced to abandon their disintegrating homes and peppered with sand, stones and stinging rain, families clung to each other to avoid blowing away as they crawled in search of shelter.
In the few structures that remained intact, the townspeople huddled together, singing hymns to comfort the children and to ward off panic as the settlement was demolished around them. There was no food, no light and but for the few who managed to reach the home of settlement doctor, Walter Kendrick, no aid for the wounded.
Below are two first-hand accounts of the ’32 hurricane – one from my grandmother, Lurey (Curry) Albury and the other from her first-cousin, John Lowe.
Turns out one of the most memorable performers at the 2013 Island Roots Heritage Festival wasn’t even in the program. On the first day of the festival, Mother Nature made several unannounced – and unwelcome – appearances.
As an opening act, she whipped up a thundering downpour, trapping people indoors and delaying the festival opening by an hour or more.
Then, apparently not satisfied with the havoc she’d wreaked earlier, she resurfaced around dinner time. The eastern sky grew dark and heavy, and the winds picked up. A waterspout began swirling off the east shore of the cay.
Festival goers took cover in nearby buildings as the funnel barreled toward shore and made landfall as a tornado at the north end of Gillam Bay.
Video by Timothy Roberts
Residents along the bay scrambled for shelter under stairwells and in shower stalls as their homes were pummeled. Though several houses and at least one vehicle sustained serious damage, no major injuries were reported and fortunately, the tornado dissipated before it reached the settlement.