KATRINA: Day 7 – A Day that Will Live in Infamy

On Sunday, August 28, 2005, Brian Peters and I were in Gulf Shores, Alabama, waiting on Hurricane Katrina to make landfall. We had awakened on Sunday morning in Biloxi, in a hotel directly across the street from the beach. The sky was bright blue with a hot sun burning down. It was hard to believe that a Category Four hurricane, soon to be Category Five hurricane was just a day away. We knew that it would be unsafe to stay in our present location, which by my calculation was at about 14 feet above sea level.

We scouted locations to ride out the storm during the night. Jim Cantore from The Weather Channel was planning to ride it out in the Mississippi Gulf Coast Coliseum. Sounded like a good idea to me, but he took one look at the huge satellite truck we had with us and said, “Not a good idea. You have to get that truck off this coast.” It turned out to be a moot discussion as the big boss told us that we were being redeployed to the Mobile area, where a monstrous storm surge was expected in the Bay.

When we arrived at Daphne that afternoon, it was hard to imagine that the peaceful and serene Mobile Bay would rise as much as 15-20 feet the next morning. We could not find a suitable location to hit the satellite with our truck, so it was on to Gulf Shores, where we knew the signal could be gotten out to the world. We checked into the Hampton Inn Foley and broadcast from the beach all evening.

We tried to doze, but sleep was difficult, as the mesmerizing image of the hurricane’s tightly coiled eye struck northward again and again on the satellite loops. There was blog work to be done and in reality, you didn’t want to miss a think.

When we headed to Gulf Shores at 4 a.m. on the morning of the 29th in the Storm Chaser van, the wind was fierce and rain was pouring down. We measured a 106 mph wind gust. Water was already over the beach road. We broadcast live from the Winn Dixie parking lot.

After the morning show, we ran back to the hotel. The wind was still roaring at a frightening velocity. Using my Cingular Cell Card, I was able to stay connected and keep the blog updated. We watched network reporters from New Orleans.

At around 8:15 a.m., I was monitoring bulletins and reports while watching Shepherd Smith from the French Quarter. He declared that New Orleans had dodged a bullet. There was a comment on our internal instant messaging system that the worst was over for New Orleans. I opened a flash flood warning from the National Weather Service in Slidell. It was for the Lower Ninth Ward in New Orleans. A breech had occurred on a levee on the Industrial Canal. The wording was urgent. I immediately commented that the worst was just beginning. James agreed.

We didn’t know until Tuesday morning just how bad it was.

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