Small Craft Warning

Last night, we experienced the most severe storm that I remember while staying in Atlantic Beach.  There was rain off and on all day yesterday, and by afternoon the wind had picked up considerably.  We were watching TV, something we rarely do, because the President had delivered a long and rambling post-acquittal "speech" that we felt we needed to hear.  From time to time, the sound was muted and a tornado warning message streamed across the screen for nearby areas, including Carteret County.

Sometime in the small hours of the morning, perhaps 1:00 a.m. or 2:00 a.m., we were awakened by the full force of the storm front.  For an hour or two, bright flashes of lightning lit up the room, and booms of thunder seemed to shake the condo.  Torrential rain blew into the condo on a powerful south wind; it seemed as if someone had opened a fire hose on the windows, and I kept thinking, "Surely these windows will blow in."  What a disaster that would have been!  We just installed new mini blinds in the master bedroom, and I had also installed a piece of molding on one side that had been missing since we have been coming here.  I could imagine shattered glass all over the bed and the new mini blinds plastered to the opposite wall.  But then I remembered that this place had withstood several hurricanes over the years, most notably Florence in September of 2018.

This morning, the rain had disappeared and there was blue sky, but the wind had increased even more.  I struggled to push open the south-facing doors leading to the walkway, and ended up doing my Tai Chi under cover, partially blocked from the wind.  My weather app confirmed that there was indeed a Gale Warning in effect all day, with west winds 30 to 40 knots and gusts up to 50 knots - that's 57 miles per hour for us landlubbers - and a Small Craft Warning, with waves up to 16 feet expected.

We had planned to run this morning, but as the Gale Warning notice on my phone advised, we decided to alter plans and to remain in port, in the safe harbor of this sturdily constructed condo building.  I ventured out this morning to check our mail at the post office and mail the latest printout of this blog to Martha's Aunt Lizette.  The traffic lights on Fort Macon Road were swinging wildly.  It is amazing that the power did not go out as it surely would have in Highlands.  But I noticed that the power poles are tall here and sturdily constructed, higher than any of the surrounding trees.

This afternoon, we went to another Brown Bag Gam at the Maritime Museum in Beaufort, an interesting talk that we heard in slightly different form last year called Love at Sea, prompted by Valentine's Day next week.  The wind had not relented at all, and I held the steering wheel tightly as we crossed the three high bridges between here and Beaufort.  Ironically, the temperature is mild, 62 degrees, and the sun is brightly shining.  We would be walking on the beach right now except for that wind, which as I am writing is rattling the palm trees around the swimming pool like feather dusters being vigorously shaken out.

The small craft warning remains in effect all day.  And while I have often braved the wind to go running, on days like this I consider myself a small craft.