The bay and the ocean meet
Apr. 4th, 2005 11:11 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jawnbcGrowing up on a peninsula a mere 1m above sea level leaves one vulnerable for flooding. Unlike the southeast, NY's more liable for a storm surge event in winter--Nor'Easters don't need warm tropical seas to achieve might. Even so, most storms tend to bounce off DelMarVa or New Jersey, zip past NYC, and hit Eastern Long Island or New England. Strangely, the north shore of Long Island often floods worse, thanks to the funnel effect of Long Island Sound.
Regardless, when there was storm brewing out at sea, the waves usually arrived 3 or 4 days earlier. Big rollers, proper C curls that were great for surfing and bodysurfing. For a beach where a 1m wave is a biggun, 3m was shocking. Going out at high tide was a bit dicey; a series of strong waves could create an undertow and suck you right out. Though no one we knew ever bought it that way: we were all strong swimmers since toddling times. Our friends died of drug overdoses, or industrial accidents, or in bar fights.
We'd get about a 1.5 days of big surf and sunshine, and then the clouds and drizzle would move in. Rarely did we get the classic hurricane scenario: sunny until the 24 hours before landfall. Rain meant we could surf all day on any beach (with lifeguards on duty board surfing is illegal in NYC). Who else but wave freaks spend more time on the beach on a cloudy day? We often built a bon-fire to warm ourselves between sets.
And we were always excited about the possibility of the bay (Jamaica) and the ocean (Atlantic) meeting. It happened in 1960 during Hurricane Donna; our aunts often told us of rowboats on 116th Street and all sorts of cool debris on the beach afterwards. About once a summer we'd get a hurricane watch; about every third year we'd get a proper warning. While our elders planned hurricane parties, we planned how we'd watch for when the bay and the ocean met. But Belle, Gloria and their ilk never measured up to Donna. In fact, Tomby and I were on the boardwalk when Gloria limped ashore, with her massive 10cm storm surge. Strangest thing I ever saw on the beach, a little itty bitty wave that just wouldn't stop: it pushed right over the beach, under the boardwalk and into the street. Then the sun came out.
However in 1991 the bay and ocean did meet, via the sewers. On Halloween weekend "the perfect storm" pushed a nearly 3m storm surge ahead of it. As high tide approached, the seas did come up quickly on the beach, but it was the pressure of water through the storm sewers (that empty into Jamaica Bay) that stuffed things. Without warning, seawater began pouring out of the storm sewers all over Rockaway. Within an hour, mini-geysers were on most streets; the streets filled up rapidly, becoming rivers. Which ran to the beach or the bay, leaving 1/3 of the peninsula under water--before the full storm hit.
Those whose garages were at the bottom of sloping driveways (like my Uncle Desi) had their basements filled with water in hours. Those in the lower lying parts of the peninsula--like my sisters on 87th Street--saw their yards fill up before the waters poured through their basement windows. Most of our family didn't know had badly Kathleen and her (then 5) kids were, until they saw them evacuated by rowboat during the height of the storm. Hundreds of homes had up to 30cm of water on the ground floor. My parents watched as their street, then yard, filled with seawater, only to have it crest just belore the door frame.
The blessing was that the really big waves from the storm--as large as 10m--stayed well east of Rockaway. Adding 10m waves to the surge would've meant damage to everyone's house, and the destruction of hundreds more. Even so some--like Kathleen--effectively lost their homes due to the storm; it's very expensive to get flood insurance in Rockaway, and if you're not affluent it's impossible.
Of course, the strangest thing to come out of the storm sewers in Rockaway was burning jet fuel . . .
Regardless, when there was storm brewing out at sea, the waves usually arrived 3 or 4 days earlier. Big rollers, proper C curls that were great for surfing and bodysurfing. For a beach where a 1m wave is a biggun, 3m was shocking. Going out at high tide was a bit dicey; a series of strong waves could create an undertow and suck you right out. Though no one we knew ever bought it that way: we were all strong swimmers since toddling times. Our friends died of drug overdoses, or industrial accidents, or in bar fights.
We'd get about a 1.5 days of big surf and sunshine, and then the clouds and drizzle would move in. Rarely did we get the classic hurricane scenario: sunny until the 24 hours before landfall. Rain meant we could surf all day on any beach (with lifeguards on duty board surfing is illegal in NYC). Who else but wave freaks spend more time on the beach on a cloudy day? We often built a bon-fire to warm ourselves between sets.
And we were always excited about the possibility of the bay (Jamaica) and the ocean (Atlantic) meeting. It happened in 1960 during Hurricane Donna; our aunts often told us of rowboats on 116th Street and all sorts of cool debris on the beach afterwards. About once a summer we'd get a hurricane watch; about every third year we'd get a proper warning. While our elders planned hurricane parties, we planned how we'd watch for when the bay and the ocean met. But Belle, Gloria and their ilk never measured up to Donna. In fact, Tomby and I were on the boardwalk when Gloria limped ashore, with her massive 10cm storm surge. Strangest thing I ever saw on the beach, a little itty bitty wave that just wouldn't stop: it pushed right over the beach, under the boardwalk and into the street. Then the sun came out.
However in 1991 the bay and ocean did meet, via the sewers. On Halloween weekend "the perfect storm" pushed a nearly 3m storm surge ahead of it. As high tide approached, the seas did come up quickly on the beach, but it was the pressure of water through the storm sewers (that empty into Jamaica Bay) that stuffed things. Without warning, seawater began pouring out of the storm sewers all over Rockaway. Within an hour, mini-geysers were on most streets; the streets filled up rapidly, becoming rivers. Which ran to the beach or the bay, leaving 1/3 of the peninsula under water--before the full storm hit.
Those whose garages were at the bottom of sloping driveways (like my Uncle Desi) had their basements filled with water in hours. Those in the lower lying parts of the peninsula--like my sisters on 87th Street--saw their yards fill up before the waters poured through their basement windows. Most of our family didn't know had badly Kathleen and her (then 5) kids were, until they saw them evacuated by rowboat during the height of the storm. Hundreds of homes had up to 30cm of water on the ground floor. My parents watched as their street, then yard, filled with seawater, only to have it crest just belore the door frame.
The blessing was that the really big waves from the storm--as large as 10m--stayed well east of Rockaway. Adding 10m waves to the surge would've meant damage to everyone's house, and the destruction of hundreds more. Even so some--like Kathleen--effectively lost their homes due to the storm; it's very expensive to get flood insurance in Rockaway, and if you're not affluent it's impossible.
Of course, the strangest thing to come out of the storm sewers in Rockaway was burning jet fuel . . .
no subject
Date: 2005-04-04 02:37 am (UTC)The boat was on its trailer in their driveway.