I’ve been meaning to get to this blog post for some time now, but I’ve been so busy. I’m sitting out at art show in Bonita Springs and have a spare moment at last.
In my last post, I talked about the havoc that Hurricane Ian wreaked on my house.
Hurricane Ian struck September 28th with sustained winds of 155 mph. Hurricane Ian was the third-costliest weather disaster on record, and the deadliest hurricane to strike the state of Florida since the 1935 Labor Day hurricane. In the back of my mind, while I was cleaning up from the hurricane, was – what had happened to my artwork on Sanibel Island?
At the time all I knew was that the Sanibel bridge was out in three places. No one was allowed to approach the island by boat without a hurricane pass. I imagined that if water had gotten in the Hirdie Girdie gallery, it wouldn’t be long before my paintings would be blooming mildew. There were a couple of boats that were bringing people to the island but they wanted $250 per person, and there was no guarantee they would get you anywhere near your destination. By my calculations, the closest access to the island was on the beach side, as they were not allowing anyone to enter Tarpon Bay. That meant a 25 minute walk from the beach to the gallery.
Our sailboat would have taken a whole day to get out there, and a whole day to get back. It made much more sense to find someone with a power boat who was willing to take me out to the island.
One of the other members of the gallery had a boat, and offered to take me there. Then, the day before, they canceled because someone bought the boat from them. I can’t blame them. So many boats were lost in the hurricane, and there was a very high demand for them. The offer was so good, they had to take it.
Fortunately, my son, Jackson, had flown into town from California to help us with the cleanup. He was also going to help me retrieve my paintings from Sanibel Island.
With a heavy heart, I explained to Jackson that the boat transportation had fallen through.
He had good news, though. Jackson and his friends have gone out the night before, and met some first responders. He told them of our plans to go out to Sanibel Island, and they said if he needed a boat that they could bring us. Once Jackson learned that our boat had fallen through, he called one of them, and we made a plan!
Only 14 days had passed since the hurricane, and the national guard was on the island making sure that everyone there had a hurricane pass. The island was only issuing them to residents of the island, and island businesses. I had managed to acquire a pass through the gallery owners. We were warned about the possibility of hitting hurricane debris just below the surface of the water, and had to proceed with caution.
We were greeted by beautiful weather, sunny skies and mild temperatures. Our crew was comprised of 5 people, including myself. Matthew Marcaulitus, of the Cape Coral Fire Department, Shar Beddow of the Greater Naples Fire Department, Aaron Stritenberger of the San Carlos Fire Department, and my Marine son, Jackson Dodd. Who could ask for a better team? Everyone of them was super fit, and I was especially inspired by Shar, who looked absolutely terrific at 50. I asked her how she stayed so fit, and she told me she had a weight problem until she started lifting weights, and knowing her now has really motivated me. I was over the moon.
Matthew owned the boat, and brought his Key West fishing boat to the 24th street boat ramp in Cape Coral, one of the few boat ramps that were open following the hurricane. The boat ramp was crowded with people anxious to get out to the islands to check on their properties. Every parking space filled, and we were forced to park our Ford pickup outside the park. Once our turn came to launch the boat, we were off!
It was a sobering site to witness the damage along the Cape Coral coastline. Trees were stripped of their leaves, many of them fallen, and many the homes had broken pool cages, windows, and roof damage. Any remaining boats were either washed ashore, sunken on the spot, or flipped over.
As we got closer to Sanibel Island, we were able to pick up some speed. The sunlit waters were surprisingly calm, and we made good time. I saw a floating window from a boat in the water, but not much more. We were going to have to go around the southern tip of the island in order to make our beach approach, and that meant going past the iconic Sanibel Lighthouse. I had heard that it survived, but had only seen a blurry distant picture of it prior to our trip. As we approached the lighthouse, it became evident that all was not good. The waves had carved away at the shoreline, and the water’s edge was dangerously close to the lighthouse. All of the buildings that had surrounded the lighthouse were – gone. It looked as if there never had been any buildings there at all. The poor lighthouse was balancing itself on three legs. I wondered where those buildings had gone – could we be headed right into one of them, just under the surface?
We rounded the southern end of the island and began heading north. Now we were on the open Gulf of Mexico. If the water had been rough, it would have made it impossible to transport my paintings safely from the beach to the boat. I had brought one Stanley trunk on wheels, but that would only hold the smaller paintings. The rest would be wrapped in plastic, but not waterproof.
We cruised on by the many ravaged homes and resorts, and it was really sad to see. Again, many of the trees were stripped of their leaves. Palm trees were leaning heavily or snapped off in the middle. It was evident that the water had risen mightily, and crashed its way across the island. As we got closer to Tarpon Bay Beach, I saw a couple of people standing by the water’s edge. I looked closer, and wondered – are they, are they… SHELLING? Indeed they were.
We began our approach to the beach, and we could hear the eerily screeching sound of a fire alarm from one of the beach condo buildings. We couldn’t get right up to the beach without risk of running aground, so we had to jump off the boat into the cloudy water. I was a little worried about what debris could be under the surface in the waist high water, but fortunately none of us encountered any.
It was easy to see why the people we saw earlier were tempted to look for shells. The number of perfect shells was incredible, and I was thinking of taking one myself, but I decided against it. After all, how would that look, in the face of all the devastation?
The boardwalk from the street to the beach was askew, and half of it was missing. We made our way down street, which was littered with sand drifts and landscaping debris. Power lines were snapped off in places, and we later found the rest of the boardwalk, maybe a half mile down the road. A large dead land turtle lay nearby. I had to wonder how much of the wildlife remained on the island after the storm. We encountered the occasional bicyclist, and virtually no cars. A young man on an ATV approached us, pulling a flatbed trailer. He offered to give us a lift the rest of the way to the gallery, and we gratefully accepted.
As we drew closer to the gallery, we saw a huge truck and trailer with a crane clearing debris from the roadside. And to their right, stood the beautiful Hirdie Girdie Gallery, colors from the freshly painted walkway and railings ablaze in the bright sun! Just before we closed for the summer, gallery members had repainted the walkway ramp in ice cream colors of lilac, aqua, pale yellow, turquoise, and periwinkle blue. The building really stood out against the gray and brown of the fallen landscaping. Our sign was nowhere to be found, and our air conditioner was askew, but still attached to the building. Our building, thankfully, was raised about 3 or 4 feet above the ground, and the rushing waters must have passed under it.
We had to remove the aluminum hurricane shutters before we could enter the building. This involved unscrewing many wing nuts with a special wing nut bit, and pulling out maybe a dozen or so 7 ft corrugated panels from their track. I noticed a disruption in the shingles in one area on the roof, and wondered of there had been leakage into the interior. The removal of the shutters revealed our glass door and glass sidelights, in perfect condition. I unlocked the door, and stepped inside. I was met with surprisingly cool, dry air, and everything looked perfect inside. I scanned the ceiling for signs of leakage, and there were none. My paintings stared back at me, surprised to be woken from their summer sleep, like nothing was wrong. I looked around the rest of the gallery at the other member’s work – all in perfect condition. I wished that I could have rescued all of the artwork, but there wasn’t enough room on the boat, nor did we have enough arms to carry them. Still, I could report on their condition to the other members of the gallery who were anxious to hear what I found.
We quickly loaded my trunk and wrapped up the larger paintings. We had to reinstall the hurricane shutters. We started to leave, and then I realized that I forgot few things our bookkeeper needed, that I was supposed to pick up. We had to take down the shutters again, and get those items, and replace the shutters. Our first responders stood by patiently and waited while we did this. We then began walking beck, towing the heavily-laden trunk, and carrying some of the larger paintings. I hoped that the lad with the trailer would miraculously reappear, but no luck this time! At this point the sun was getting high in the sky, and we were sweating heavily. I hoped that the National guard would not make Matthew, who stayed with the boat, move off, since we had the hurricane pass with us.
There was Matthew, chatting with a nearby fisherman, and I silently cheered. Our crew hoisted my paintings across the water, and onto the boat, and off we went. We passed a few barges carrying excavating equipment and other materials, and funny enough, a tiki bar with an outboard motor, puttering down the Miserable mile, open for business. Otherwise, our return was without incident.
I want to say a big thank you to all of you who helped me that day – I will always be grateful, and never forget what you did for me.
Hirdie Girdie Gallery will remain closed this season, and plans to reopen this coming October. Meanwhile, I have showing my work at various local art shows. I plan on doing one more this coming weekend on Marco Island March 11th and 12th, 2023 at the Veterans Park – 901 Park Ave, Marco Island, FL 34145 . Marc and I will be there from 10 -5 pm both days. Hope to see you there!
This post was a long one, if you are still reading this, thanks for following me!
Big hug,
Martha
