by Peter Roos
Renee and I have now lived in and loved St. Pete Beach for almost 40 years, first in historic, low-lying Pass-a-Grille, then in north St. Pete Beach for the last 25 years. We have always lived less than 6 feet above sea level in single-story dwellings at the beach, saw many storms come and go, and the floors were never wet. Usually, we evacuated for approaching hurricanes. Too often the hurricanes followed us.
In late September 2024, Helene was different. She was the first storm that was called a “Potential Tropical Cyclone” days before she was named. Helene was heading toward Tallahassee and Florida’s “Big Bend,” the “panhandle” where so many storms make landfall. In the past, predicted 3–8-foot surges from storms paralleling the coast failed to materialize. Sometimes the storms even sucked water out of our area as they streamed by, parallel to the coast.
However, when more than 2 feet of sea water quickly inundated our modest home and office about 9 in the evening, we found ourselves climbing a ladder to the roof. My bride of 53 years and I snuggled under our solar water heater panel, which was installed on the roof 20 years ago by Solar 4U from Gulfport. Shortly after we reached our elevated vantage point, we saw a home a few blocks northwest of us go up in flames.
I was happy that I had parked my electric car blocks away, and that I had turned off the main electric breaker to the house before we went aloft, to hopefully keep the house from burning down under us. I noted that the water level on the neighbor’s door across the street was almost to the doorknob.
We spent several long sleepless hours there as Helene threatened with lightning and thunder. First responders came by on foot, leading an emergency vehicle as the water receded about 2am, and asked if we needed a rescue. We turned them down, and climbed down the ladder about an hour later when it started to rain. Since I could now see my neighbor’s entire front door, we suspected we were now safer at ground level.
Exhausted, we fell on the memory foam mattress that had been floating around the bedroom a few hours before. While the bottom few inches of it was a wet sponge, the top was relatively dry. In a couple hours we were awakened by a loud persistent rapping on the bedroom window. A sheriff’s deputy had been sent to check on us by family members who feared we were still on the roof or worse. He said that the outside was a terrible mess. We told him the inside was too.
Later that morning, we began removing the Gulf and sewer backflow from our home. Once sea water invades your home, most things that are touched by the water must be disposed of. We had a storage container placed in the driveway and carefully started filling it with items that stayed dry. We tried to stack most things above waist height in case of another flood. Huge piles of discarded possessions or items needing drying out began to appear in front of and behind almost every home, townhome, ground floor apartment and all sorts of businesses. Huge, semi-sized trucks, with a built-in crane between two of them moved from place to place selectively picking up huge buckets full of cut-out drywall, clothes, bedding and appliances.
We had not even gotten the home dried out from Helene when the storm that would become Hurricane Milton set its sights squarely on the west coast of Florid. Not wanting to repeat our rooftop experience, we followed evacuation orders and left, resigned to the notion that Milton would drown our entire home and the contents of the 16-foot Pack Rat container in our driveway.
I first bought Allegiant tickets to Illinois on Monday, then cancelled them to go to Denver on Tuesday, before Milton was due on Wednesday afternoon. It gave us an extra day to prepare before escaping. We never suspected Tampa’s airport would be forced to close a day earlier than anticipated, due to a shortage of jet fuel, possibly because of a brief longshoreman’s strike.
On Tuesday Milton’s forward motion speed doubled to 15 mph. It had been proceeding along its predicted northeast track for most of the day, aiming directly for Tampa Bay, but took a “little jog” east instead of northeast, and predicted landfall began to be Sarasota, saving the Tampa Bay area from another punishing storm surge.
We evacuated to a former home in Brandon. The power blinked a few times, then turned off in the fury of the storm late on Wednesday. It was thankfully restored Friday after 36 hours. The first night in six months of cooler temperatures was a blessing Thursday night. Hurricane Milton was long gone east into the Atlantic.
We have many friends to thank, most especially Lizette LaForge of Beacon Windows and Doors and SliderRepair.com. She brought us food, a disinfecting sprayer and a fog machine, Shockwave and Hydrogen Peroxide. She worked with us, then took a ton of clothes home with her to launder each night. We must also thank our great friends John and Sherry Holzinger, who let us sleep several nights in their terrific townhome and commune with their son Colin and daughter Tierney between hurricanes.
Our main number is not working now, but we are available by mobile phone at 727-421-0341 and 813-230-3965 and by email at info@paradisenewsfl.com or sales@paradisenewsfl.com. We are confident that you and a whole host of new advertisers can benefit from the needs of our neighbors as storm season subsides and building restarts.