Hurricane Douglas and the Mysteries of Meteorological Miracles

Douglas pulling away.

National Weather Service

Copyright © 2020

by Ralph F. Couey

It's been a day of tense anticipation, moments of dread, even fear, and finally a collective sigh of relief.  As I write this, Hurricane Douglas is passing Kaua'i, the northernmost main island headed for obscurity in the vast reaches of the North Pacific Ocean.

At noon today, the outlook was not good.  The storm had zigged to the south which put it's forecasted path across the center of all eight islands.  What happened is an excellent tutorial on the exigencies of Pacific cyclones.  

The Pacific is a vast laboratory of meteorology, ranging from the chill waters of the Gulf of Alaska, through the constant storms of the Inter-Tropical Comvergence Zone at the equator and all the way down to where its waters wash up against the ice of Antarctica.  It is the largest ocean on this planet, 63.8 million square miles.  For the past few days, Douglas had been steered by a ridge of high pressure a thousand miles north of Hawai'i.  The pressure from that ridge kept Douglas on a consistent WNW path (290 degrees, for you compass fans).  But starting yesterday, a weakness developed in that ridge.  As a result, the hurricane turned in a more northerly direction.  The difference was only five degrees, but it was enough.  The storm passed so far north of the Big Island, that they were taken completely out of the cone.  It continued to trend in that direction, dumping heavy rains on Maui and Lana'i -- but nowhere near the precipitation that had been anticipated.  

But once past Lana'i, Douglas zigged back to the west.  It looked for all the world like O'ahu was going to get nailed.

Something Stormy This Way Comes

The Beast, poised to strike

National Weather Service

Copyright © 2020

by Ralph F, Couey

I've been a part of severe weather events throughout my life, growing up with thunderstorms, tornadoes, and floods in Missouri.  I've learned that nature can have its violent moments, perhaps delivering a come-comeuppance to these arrogant humans who actually think they're in charge.  

Today, the state of Hawai'i is preparing for the arrival of hurricane Douglas which has been churning its way across the Pacific for the last week or so.  The forecasted impacts have shifted back and forth, responding to the little wriggles in its path.  Two days ago, it looked grim.  The storm's path would deliver a head-on strike to the Big Island, Maui, Lana'i, and O'ahu.  Since then, the track has shifted northward, and as of this evening, the Big Island is completely out of the cone.  The other islands remain in the cone, but the impacts will be less than what they could have been.  Kaua'i remains the one island that will get a direct hit, but again, that could change.

The storm center will pass about 30 miles north of the far northern tip of O'ahu as a weak Cat 1 or a strong tropical storm, but this island will still be subject to powerful winds in the 50-70 mph range, and up to 10 inches of rain.  On an island consisting of knife-edged mountains and long, steep valleys, the flooding could be epic.

Emergency shelters are opening, businesses have boarded or taped their windows, sandbags are placed, and the Navy and Coast Guard are putting to sea as I write this.  Aircraft have either been chained to the concrete or moved into storm-proof hangers.  Flights out of the state have been put on hold, and the mad rush at Costco and Sam's Club, as well as Lowe's and Home Depot has started to ebb.  There is a sense of the sharply defined watchfulness of the prepared.

This Moment of Mahomes

That walkin' talkin' pass-throwin' 

paradigm shiftin' and now

bank-breakin' QB

(Photo unattributed, but thought to be Kansas City Star)

Copyright © 2020

by Ralph F. Couey

No Chiefs fan will ever forget the moment.  Super Bowl LIV, fourth quarter, about seven minutes left.  Chiefs down by 10, and 49ers fans full of gleeful anticipation.  Patrick Mahomes had thrown his second interception capping a distinctly underwhelming performance to that point.  Then, came the Jet Chip Wasp, that audacious play that changed the trajectory of the game, and of NFL history.  Seven minutes and 21 points later, a half-century of football misery was forever ended in Kansas City.

And yet, none of us were all that surprised, or even nervous.  We had already seen our quarterback lead this team from a 24-point deficit to a 51-7 run and a win in the divisional round.  In the AFC Championship game, he did it again, this time from being down 10 points twice and 17 points another time, a scintillating victory that opened the gates to Miami.  We had learned that with #15 behind center, no game was ever truly lost.  

Now, I am enough of a fan to know that this kind of thing doesn't happen in a vacuum.  In order to make those comebacks happen, the rest of the offense, and the defense and special teams had to step up and play heroically, which they did.  But it is impossible to overstate the impact that Patrick Mahomes II had on those events.  His renown goes beyond just football.  To find a similar kind of epic splash made by a young athlete, you have to go back to Babe Ruth or Joe DiMaggio, Michael Jordan, or Kareem Abdul-Jabbar.  These are athletes that changed the very nature of the games they played, and elevated the expectations forever.

Now, with just two full seasons as a starter under his belt, with a Super Bowl win and two MVP awards, this young man has been rewarded with the largest contract in sports history:  12 years, $503 million.

A Cold Brush with Doom

CDC.gov

“In hard times, we learn something incredibly precious: 

The fist of the universe can hit us anywhere, anytime."

― Mehmet Murat ildan

Copyright © 2020

by Ralph F. Couey

Monday was in all respects a normal kind of day.  Nothing out of the ordinary happened, and I certainly felt fine.  Well, ordinary anyway.  But when I awoke Tuesday morning, nothing was normal.  

I noticed it first when I tried to get out of bed.  I felt a little dizzy, but I wrote that off to allergies.  As is my custom, I fixed breakfast for my mother-in-law, then headed out the door to begin my regular walk.  As soon as I cleared the carport roof and I was hit by the strong tropical sunlight, it hit me.  A wave of weakness and fatigue, along with a fresh round of dizziness communicated that my regular 5-miler was not happening that day.  I went back inside and reclined on the couch.  I had a backlog of programs on the DVR, so I intended to amuse myself thus for awhile.  I thought that this was just a temporary thing that would pass in a short period of time, but I was wrong.  As the day went on, I felt ever worse.  I fell asleep several times, and except for getting Mom her lunch, stayed there for the balance of the day.  

Cheryl made some of her killer delicious chicken soup, and I felt a little better, but the process of showering completely wiped me out.

Wednesday morning was worse.  I had no energy for anything, and the dizziness began to upset my stomach.  I called my Doctor and he told me to go immediately to the lung clinic downtown.  We drove there and I went in.  The current pandemic protocols required Cheryl to wait outside, which made her a little angry.  Once inside, the process was the epitome of efficiency.  Inside of 30 minutes, I had my vitals taken, my H&P completed, and had a long and searching conversation with a pulmonologist.  Once he concluded that this wasn't cardiac-related (I have five stents in there), I was given a nasal swab for flu and COVID-19.  The flu swab came back negative, but I would have to wait until Thursday morning to get the other results.

So, we hung out downtown until the rush hour had cleared, getting some dinner in the process, before coming home.  Cheryl was sure I didn't have the virus.  At least that's what she said.  But I could tell she was worried, nonetheless.  

For the balance of the evening, I thought long and hard about what a diagnosis of COVID-19 would do to my life.  First of all, I was mostly worried about if I had given this thing to Cheryl.  She is the most important person in my universe, and getting her infected would have been devastating.  Also, she works in the OR at Tripler AMC and the revelation that she had been exposed would have created a logistical problem of nightmare proportions.  My mother-in-law is 93, and thus lies in the most vulnerable of demographics.  If I had inadvertently given her this thing, I would never forgive myself.   I work in a 24/7 watch center along with about 15 other people.  If they had been exposed, it would have meant quarantine for all.  The watch center, called the State Warning Point, would have been left completely vacated which would have been a catastrophic situation for the State Emergency Management Agency.  Then, all the people I had been in contact with would have been exposed, and required to be tested, including the elderly folks who attend my church.