Aftermath

Crikeys!
I was all too happy to leave the frigid temps of Denver behind, but the weather in these here parts sorta went haywire yesterday.

For once, the forecasts had it about right - the 2nd of three back-to-back storms would slam into the Bay Area on Friday, bringing with it lots of rain and wind. A Coastal Flood watch, High Surf advisory, Small Craft advisory, High Wind warning and Urban and Small Stream Flooding advisory were all posted. So I kinda knew what I was in for on my walk to work Friday. I even went grocery shopping Thursday evening so I could take my lunch to the office and avoid going outside.

Yet it came as something of a surprise that, as I emerged from my apartment and hoisted my lightening umbrella*, there was a loud crack and crash as an enormous chunk of one of the large trees in front of my apartment crushed the Flexcar in the parking lot beneath it. With a sudden heightened sense of my surroundings, I picked my way through the debris of branches and trash and mangled umbrellas towards the office, crossing the street to avoid large trees and steer clear of scaffolding, which could blow down and crush me like that poor car.

Somewhere around Montgomery and Pine streets I entered a Zen-like state, having nearly mastered the martial art of umbrella maneuvers required to work my way through downtown. Using both hands, one at the handle, the other placed just below the runner and stretchers to provide maximum stability in the buffeting winds, I could also collapse the umbrella with a flick of the fingers to prevent inversion. A wide, low stance prevented my being lifted off my feet or caught off-blance. Switching hands as necessary, I used all my senses to anticipate the direction of the gale as it whirled and eddied between buildings and through alleyways, plunging the umbrella against the wind while keeping the rain from soaking my head. My umbrella became an extension of myself as I subtly twisted and raised or lowered it to defend against the onslaught of other umbrellas that could take off an ear or poke an eye. The trail of broken and tattered umbrellas and soaked passers-by told the tale of the many who did not perfect this art.

Sadly, despite my umbrella prowess, by Market street the wet had soaked through my boots and socks alike. By the time I arrived at the office, my corduroy cargo pants were so saturated, I might as well have worn them in the shower.

BART had shut down in stretches due to fallen trees on the tracks, roads were closed due to flooding, downed power lines left many without electricity, a bridge was closed due to a blown-over 18-wheeler. 30-foot waves swept the coast, and wind gusts were clocked over 70 on the Golden Gate Bridge, over 80 on Angel Island, and at 107 mph at Kregor Peak near Mt Diablo in the East Bay.

My shoes and pants had mostly dried out and the winds had mostly died down by the time I walked home. But the view from my apartment is considerably changed as still another of the large Indian Laurel ficus trees toppled into the street, mangling two parked cars. My view is less a forest of green and more a sea of rooftops. Sigh.

*I've mentioned this in passing before. I shall elaborate soon. The time to do so approacheth.