Monday, August 29, 2011

It's Only Water


It's only water. They used to tell me when I was a new kayaker. Hey, stop being scared, it's only water. I never understood that, not then and not now. Water is the most powerful, awesome, destructive force on the planet. It takes people in a quiet heartbeat, washes them away without a word, closes over them like the lid of a coffin. It roars and flashes, smashes and screams and destroys. It took Stephen this summer, and then Allen Satcher on Cherry Creek, then Boyce Greer on the North Fork Payette, again.  And now it's taken Vermont.

I knew about the hurricane and its enormous, swirling eye hovering directly above my hometown on the weather radar. My parents had stocked the house with food and water and as many candles and flashlights as they could find in the empty isles of cleaned out grocery stores. They told my sister and I not to worry, as electricity and cell phone towers were sure to go out for a long time. I didn't worry about them, or my house high up on its hill, the epitome of safety, miles away from the rest of the world. Instead I wondered vaguely about New York City, Boston, coastal land and all the people in those areas having to evacuate.    

I went out to Index, Washington this weekend on a climbing trip. There was perfect weather, a riverside camp ground, friends I haven't seen in too long- but when my cell phone died on Sunday night I packed up and headed home, a day or two earlier than I'd planned. With everything going on back East and my family braced for impact, I didn't want to be out of communication. I got back to the city a little before midnight, and was moving around my room putting things away when my sister came to the door. She sat down on my bed and said that mom and dad were okay, but Vermont had been devastated.



All of Vermont is underwater, but the Southern region was hit the hardest. Our region. Our town. All of these pictures are the of places where I grew up, where I go every single day when I'm home.


Vermonters like myself who now live in other places- the Vermont diaspora, as we call ourselves- are left staring at the news and Facebook with disbelief, heartbroken, stunned. Wanting so much to go home. Here's a link to all the posts and photos on The Wilder Coast about Vermont and New England. It's such a small, quiet, safe state- a rural refuge, peaceful and green and isolated.  Nothing ever happens there. We always thought that nothing could ever happen there.


13 comments:

Anonymous said...

This is stunning.....how horrible....

Kate said...

Thanks for writing. I'm also a Vermonter adventuring in Washington and wishing I could help out at home after this.

Jeff in Oregon said...

Water. We can't live without it, and in its most violent and primal state it can destroy anything.....even mountains. About the only thing it can't destroy is the human spirit. They will survive and rebuild. Water may be powerful, but we're stubborn.

rich the photo guy said...

Thank you for summing up how I feel as I, helplessly, look at photos of a place & people that have deep roots in my heart being torn apart.

Anonymous said...

Those are some nice photos of you ;) Strangely my place survived unscathed. It did not even feel like it rained that hard or was that windy... compared to this spring. But just a 1/2 hour away in Richmond there was record flooding. Crazy times...

Nicole Podnecky said...

The whole scenario is heartbreaking! I can't stop scanning facebook for pictures of home or comments posted by old friends. The pictures of places, like the farmers market, and especially the one of Rt. 4 headed to Mendon.... unbelievable. Wishing I was home too

yohgrl23 said...

thanks for posting lina, your words are great and to the point. its hard to take in all this destruction and think of how long its going to take our little state to recover. It's also great to see how neighbors and street crews and locals are all out trying to fix what they can and make the best. community dinners and donations of food are already out there.

Stormy said...

Just got back from an unbelievably perfect week in Jamaica VT. Stayed by a rushing, vigorous river. The house where we stayed Thursday night was gone by Saturday. You say it perfectly - the sudden twist from pastoral to lethal.

But we know that Vermonters will rebuild, new and better than ever.

the faun said...

Awesome post. The situation is still unfolding there, too, even though the water has receded. Just talked to my mom and dad and they said that yesterday while it was all "happening" many folks did not know what was going on. Such is the nature of flash floods in the Vermont landscape... My folks were planning on going to the Woodstock Inn for dinner as it was their anniversary, while in the meantime it was getting flooded! Now the assessment of the damage begins... Also, that pic of you in board shorts is hawt.

Anonymous said...

the danger of dihydrogen monoxide should never be underestimated...

Krasnaya Devka said...

Well said, as always. Especially the VT Diaspora bit, the torture of waiting several days for contact from family, even though you know they're probably fine, sitting there doing puzzles by lantern light and waiting patiently for the power to come back and the cleanup phase to begin. I'm sure that, while things will surely suck for a long time, a year from now Coolidge's 'brave little state of VT' speech from the 1927 floods will still ring true.

Baby By The Sea said...

I read the post above it, and I so wanted to write about my excitement for your author journey, to tell you to eat a sesame bagel with butter and cream cheese and think of me, but I got stuck here. I grew up in NW Massachusetts and went to college in NH. I know this region of the county like the back of my hand. These pictures broke my heart for the people who make memories each day in and around the places you took pictures of.
Wow. Deep breaths.

Kerry said...

xo