Hurricane Helene made landfall in the curve of Florida’s peninsula, commonly referred to as the “Big Bend” region, on Thursday, Sept. 26 at 11 p.m. as a Category 4 storm. In Taylor and Dixie counties, storm surge levels were estimated to reach 15 feet by the National Weather Service in Tallahassee.

Sustained winds of 140 mph and flood waters devastated the southern East Coast of the U.S. reaching as far as North Carolina. Helene racked up a death-toll of over 230 lives and counting making it the deadliest hurricane since Katrina.

Nine days later, before anyone had time to realize what had just happened let alone recover from the devastation, hurricane Milton was picking up speed in the Gulf. With its eye on Tampa Florida and winds measuring 180 mph, Milton promised even more devastation as a Category 5 hurricane. 

“They say the surge here could be over 8 feet,” said Kaitlyn Hicks on Sunday, Oct. 6. “If that happens, I won’t be able to hold Austin above the water.”  

Austin is her 4-month-old son and, like many Floridians, Hicks was forced to decide whether or not to evacuate with mere days' notice and an overwhelming amount of uncertainty. At stake was more than just her life but the lives of her family and beloved pets.

Mandatory evacuations were well underway by Tuesday, Oct. 8 in Citrus, Hernando, Hillsborough, Manatee, Pasco, Pinellas and Sarasota Counties eventually spanning 15 counties. Florida officials took to the streets, knocking on doors, urging residents to evacuate as soon as possible.

“The police are letting people actually drive on the grass and shoulder of the road,” said Brook Strauss on Tuesday. 

Interstates and highways were already congested with evacuees who ran the risk of running out of gas before they reached their destinations. 

Being a transplant from Florida, hurricane Milton was personal and I’d like to share first hand hurricane experiences from my family to yours.

Why We Stayed by Richard Strauss

“We are re-calculating and continually reassessing. 

Charlie was coming directly at Tampa. Family called and insisted we get out so we did. We drove hours, through the bands and traffic into deep Polk county only for it to take a hard turn no one predicted, and slammed us hard, right into the eye. 

At first, it sounds like a howling off in the distance progressing into a freight train right at your toes. There’s pressure on your chest, the sounds of glass and wood crashing and cracking, feeling huge thunks under your feet. The 100-year-old great oaks get bent, first with the north side of the eye, then about three to four minutes of what seems quiet, then the howls from the south of the eye wall pick up to freight train strength, snapping the oaks off, and into the air.

...Not to mention the aftermath and flooding and no open roads from downed trees and power lines. If you can get out of the driveway, due to the flooding, there's no gas of any sort available

Best plan would have been to fly out prior, in hindsight.

Again, best laid plans, of mice and men, most often go awry.”

Wednesday, Oct. 9.

My father sent the text above to our family and friends the morning of Wednesday Oct. 9. I called my mother at 6:19 p.m. (CST) that same day after receiving the latest update which said they had mere hours before Milton made landfall. 

I called to tell them I loved them, assure them I understood and supported their decisions and morbidly, to make sure I would never have to regret our last words. My parents and sister, strong in their convictions, had decided to ride out the storm together, in the home where I grew up, in Brandon, Florida just 20 minutes from Tampa. 

We survived Charlie, Jeanne, Ivan, Irma and so many other hurricanes turned into tropical storms; I remember each and every one. We always came away fine, save for the occasional fallen fence or soggy carpet and yet, with each storm, comes a wave of sobering realization that some things are completely and utterly out of your control. 

The thing no one realizes about hurricanes is that sometimes, there is no right answer. We evacuated once, and as my father said, we ended up worse off than we would have been at home. My family may as well have flipped a coin last week when they were deciding what to do.

Milton had been causing destruction in Florida before it even made landfall, throwing tornadoes all over the state. According to forensic meteorologist Pat Hyland a record breaking 126 tornado warnings were issued, the second highest number of warnings ever issued in a single day in the U.S.

Amidst the chaos was an EF3 tornado that ravaged St. Lucie County staying on the ground for a reported 13 miles and claiming at least six lives. Two more EF3 tornadoes have been confirmed in Glades County as well as Miami with surveys still underway.

The Blackout 

There is a period during the major storms when you send your final updates for the night and then put down or even turn off your devices. Chances are, if the power isn’t out by now, it will be soon. You can’t go anywhere or do anything for anyone else at this point, and even if you could catch a faint cell signal, the number one priority is saving your battery.

Just after midnight, on Thursday, Oct. 10, the updates started rolling in. Hicks, who had also decided to stay for the storm, managed to send me a video. Street lights flickered, their glow clouded by the swirling deluge and palm trees bent so low it looked as though they may snap where they stood. Wind howled and rain pelted the metal storm shutters echoing through the neighborhood. 

Then, she turned off her phone.

Minutes later, at 12:26 a.m. my father sent me his final update of the night.

“We’re all good so far. One broken window and pretty sure a huge chunk of tree is on the roof,” said Richard in another text. “Starting to go through the backside of it now, won't be over until 4-ish.”

They had been without power for a few hours at that point and were sleeping in the hallway. My father had tried desperately to get enough signal for an update on his phone but to no avail, and the hand-crank radio broadcast mostly newscasts which did them little to no good. 

Then, they gave up, put everything down, and waited.

The Aftermath

Hurricane Milton made landfall the night of Wednesday, Oct. 9, in Sarasota County as a Category 3 hurricane. Tampa may not have suffered the direct hit it had expected but suffered nonetheless. While not nearly as bad as it could have been, at least six individuals have been reported dead. 

Winds reached 120 mph leveling houses, destroying cities and tearing the roof off Tropicana Field where a shelter for first responders had been established.  

“I was lying in the bathroom with your sister, while a tree came through my bedroom window, wondering what I could have done differently so she wouldn’t have had to be here for this.” remembers my mother, Jacqueline Strauss.

Snapped tree branches were thrust into the earth like javelins up to half a foot deep by Milton’s powerful wind and flood waters made it impossible for many to leave their homes… not that there was any gas to be found anywhere if they could. 

Rescue teams in boats drove where roads once were, rescuing stranded individuals from the floods. Traffic lights hung powerless by their wires and street signs lay haphazardly in the dirt.

By Friday, the state was more or less out of gasoline and power; the pressure starting to weigh on everyone. Cars were lined up at gas stations, many needing to jump their battery just so they could continue waiting for the tankards which were trying to find a safe route into the cities. 

My father waited for almost 14 hours with gas cans, posted at a Wawa on W. Brandon Blvd. so he could watch for fuel convoys coming off I70 ready to chase them down. He watched in horror as fights broke out in line and gas stations that had run out of fuel were looted, sending employees fleeing.

My parents, like many all across the state, were without power for days. Tampa Electric Company (TECO) dispatched 6,000 utility workers across the state and anticipates having power restored by Thursday, Oct. 17. A tentative restoration date estimation by county was released:

• Monday Oct. 14 by 11:59 p.m. – Pacso County
• Tuesday Oct. 15 by 11:59 p.m. – Polk County 
• Thursday Oct. 17 by 11:59 p.m. – Hillsborough and Pinellas Counties

The storm may have passed, the pressure is far from over. 

What residents have to combat now is the steady stream of people coming back home, many unaware if they even had homes to return to. Highways and interstates are congested not just by those who were evacuated but by aid attempting to clear obstructions, relief making their way into cities and utility vehicles working to restore power. 

It takes a long time for communities affected by such devastation to bounce back. Slowly but surely, businesses are opening back up, flood waters are receding, and lights are being turned back on providing hope and perhaps even a small sense of normalcy.

For more Milton pictures submitted to the Mexico Ledger,  check out our online gallery.