Hurricane Recovery

The power remained on all night and the roads seemed to have been cleared even more thoroughly, so I decided to go up to Highlands for a run this morning, my first since Saturday.  The plan had been to complete six easy miles, but since I had not run in four days I decided to do my speed workout of mile repeats.  I did not know what to expect on my usual running route in the Harris Lake area.

There were big trees down everywhere, but D.O.T. crews were out working on Highway 28 and when I reached Highlands the Town Street Department and Electric Department were in full recovery mode, including several contract electric crews brought in to help and lined up on Main Street to get an early start.  When I was Town Administrator, I used to help supervise this effort, and I have never failed to appreciate how hard these men work to open up the roads and restore power.  I still know these guys well, and I know that setting new poles and hanging new power lines is slow, patient, careful work; but our linemen are the very best, and safety is a habit bred in them over the long years of working with high voltage.

Fifth Street, Chestnut Street, and Sixth Street were all littered with fresh green leaves, a peculiar pungent fragrance unlike that of leaves that naturally fall in the autumn.  I was able to make pretty good progress, so I decided to try the first fast mile.  All was going well until I rounded the corner on Leonard Street and was greeted with this carnage. 

I knew these were telephone lines and not live wires, so I hopped over them and tried to stay on pace.  But farther along it was even worse.

Ducking under cables while running a fast mile was proving more and more difficult!  And then I climbed the hill at Satulah Ridge Road and was stopped by a roadblock of flashing lights, Street Department dump trucks, and power trucks installing a new pole.  I waved at them, smiled, and turned back, feeling a little ashamed that they were doing hard skilled labor while I was merely running. 

I decided to get out of the way of working men and change my plan to running some half-mile repeats - Yassos - which could be completed in relative safety on the same stretch of road I had just covered, hopping and ducking, but still staying on pace.  And then I cooled down by circling through Town, down Main Street, where it looked like most of the lights were on and commercial businesses open.  Vicki was out running, and we ran the last half-mile together; and Anne and John, still without power at Highlands Manor due to a huge fallen tree, were returning to their dark home.

On the way home I was saddened to see the big red maple at the driveway to Mitchell's Motel, which had stood there as long as I could remember, fallen in battle; it was always one of the first trees to turn red, a harbinger of fall.  But it will rise no more.

I saw only some minor structural damage, though, and I know that hard work will restore power to the area in another day or two.  We can be grateful that this storm spent most of its terrible fury in Florida, but there was enough remaining to be humbled by its power.

"Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! Rage, blow!

You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout

Till you have drenched our steeples . . ."

 - King Lear