The race against time

Hurricane Wilma

This is a true story. I wrote this event on scraps of paper while in our shelter for six days and nights in Mexico, October 2005. We thought we would never come home alive.

Here are some clippings from news channels regarding that awful event:

· Hurricane Wilma, which has swelled into a dangerous Category Five storm, is the strongest hurricane ever recorded.

· The Mexican authorities have told tourists to evacuate high-risk areas along the coast near the holiday resort of Cancun.

· The National Hurricane Centre is predicting Hurricane Wilma will drop 25 inches of rain and waves of 35-50 feet high are predicted.

· The most intense storm on record for the Atlantic Basin: minimum central pressure for Wilma on October 19th reached 882mb; peak sustained winds reached 175 mph.

This was the nightmare of hurricane Wilma, shared by some 30,000 tourists (including ourselves), and who knows how many Mexican natives on the Yucatan Peninsula. For me, the experience was from avoiding imploding windows to suffering from food poisoning. While horrible, it gave me a greater understanding of how so many have survived much greater and longer-lasting tragedies. It was also an opportune time for all of us to see what we're made of, and made us appreciate our families and the rich and delicious details of our everyday lives.

This is my story:

19/10/2005

On Wednesday evening we were on the pristine, white beaches of Cancun. The waves of the approaching hurricane were pounding onto the beach, but only adding to the adventure. With sand plastered to the side of my face, I assured Carmel that the approaching hurricane would either miss us or pass by on a single day of our holidays; men can lie when they have too. No worries, with disaster there are always memorable experiences.

20/10/2005

Breakfast 8am and we are told to evacuate our room with passport by 4pm today to a conference building next to our hotel (Moon Palace). Staff assured us the evacuation was just a precaution; that we'd likely spend one night in a shelter filled with plenty of food and water and be back to our hotel to continue our holiday by Friday afternoon. Little did they know that nature was coming at full force; a force this planet had never witnessed before.

Bus after bus ferried us all to our new home. There would be over 3,000 people in this shelter, all sleeping next to each other. We had been told the eye of the storm was heading right for us and it’s travelling too slowly, which meant it’s getting more and more powerful.

Some one had brought there lap top and a crowd gathered around him to watch the movement of Wilma. The storm was huge and over the Caribbean ocean so nothing was in its path and it was travelling at only 6mph; usually they travel at around 20/25mph. I thought this is going to be awful and was expecting the worse.

We were informed Wilma would hit us between 1am and 3pm the next day. There were a lot of frightened people. People around me were sweat drenched. Thursday night and we attempted sleep while the first of Wilma's dangerously high winds began knocking at the windows.

21/10/2005

It’s 12.30am and we queued to use the only phone in the building to phone home (6.30am) to reassure families that every thing is fine and not to worry, but all the lines were down.

The tropical rain was banging on the roof; it sounded like hundreds of drums banging away. We have been told that 25-40 inches of rain had fallen which meant our flat roof was in danger of collapsing. The wind was so strong and loud; the only way to describe the noise was if you stand on a train station platform inches away from the oncoming rain and that noise as it passes, well multiply that by 20 and you have a rough idea what it sounded like and the whole building vibrated constantly. I was standing in line behind three hundred people to get a breath of fresh air, and when I say a breath, I mean literally a three-second pause and inhalation of a little outdoor quasi-freshness from the doorway of our confines. People around me were sweat drenched. Some have bedding now soaked with crap - literally. The ration of fruit I ate for breakfast was undoubtedly contaminated with a mist of toilet water. People around me were starting to vomit. No power, no communication with the outside world, no water to wash our hands, and a thick stench of stagnant air surrounded us which can only be produced by thousands people in a hot building with the windows boarded up. Our real lives were impossible worlds away.

The windows, which were ¾ inch thick, were just bending in and out, ready to implode, and people were standing there starring at it. I told Carmel to move away as we didn’t want any imploding glass near us. We lost power and all communication with the outside world. The hotel staff members who volunteered to accompany our group to the shelter had the colossal job of keeping our diverse crowd calm and safe. They had the task of making sure everyone had enough to eat and drink, while dealing with angry tourists desperate for a cigarette. Scarily enough, despite being in a building with every window boarded up and people packed in like cattle, some nicotine addicts lit up in the toilets, despite the warnings of the shelter leaders. With all communication lost - there were literally no phone lines or mobile phone towers that were working. Wilma's progression and our place in the storm were reduced to mere speculation. Every 12 hours or so, the staff was somehow able to get an update from the Mexican government, which, I believed, was delivered via land during lapses of the fierceness in Wilma's barrage. Even these reports, however, were greeted with skepticism, as each new statement gave graver news than the last.

It wasn't so much a fear of dying that ate away at people; it was more an erosion of so many basic freedoms and dignities. I remember waiting in line for the makeshift bathroom, in which three cans were each positioned between two chairs, located behind a sheet. Women entered in groups of three, and I remember the teenager in front of me absolutely mortified as her mum encouraged her forward in the line, telling her basically, "You've got to do what you've got to do." Even though she was fourteen or fifteen the look she gave her mother reminded me of a scared, pleading toddler.

As I made my way through the dark, thick air people lay slack faced trying to stay cool. When a baby slept a mother curled up and cried, regrouping for when she'd have to be strong for her infant. An Asian family had three young children in tow, and did their best to keep them safe and fed, as they anxiously watched their supply of nappies and baby snacks dwindle.

Food and water for some time now had been rationed in a half-hazard way. Basically, once or twice a day, the staff would put out a certain quantity of water and once it was gone that was it for a while. Children, or the sick, could obtain additional water or supplies if necessary. At one point I remember laughing to myself as I passed a tightly circled group, including hotel staff and kids of all ages, playing blackjack. Eight and ten year olds saying: "Hit me" or "I'll stay”, reminded me that life was more about what you make of a situation than the actual conditions of your plight.

We had not slept all night and we had been told Wilma would be here at 3pm and would hit us for 3hrs. The atmosphere turned; people who were laughing, making jokes were now very quiet. From mid-day the storm got stronger; the noise was unbearablely frightening; the wind was constant, just there all the time.

It’s now 9pm and nothing was giving up so we decided to sleep on the edges of the building as the roof plaster boards, which are heavy with rain water, are crashing onto people. You had no warnings that it’s falling, just screams from people who saw it fall and you prayed it’s not near you; bloody awful.

Suddenly the sea surge and rainwater breaks beneath the doors. All hands on deck as the Mexican staff are struggling with the situation. We used tables to brush the tide of water back outside. For hours we battled against this but we won, and still this building shook. We had just been told Cancun had been flattened; no hotels standing; everywhere was under 6ft of water; the airport flattened; people here were crying.

The storm stayed with us well into the night; yet again no sleep. As I walked around the shelter there were children huddled up to their parents crying. I must of counted five brides who should have got married yesterday still in there gowns so quick was the evacuation.

Suddenly one of the huge windows 12ft x 4ft implodes people were screaming and panicking, (mainly the Americans), with glass everywhere. The Mexicans worked tiredly to board the windows up and keep the generator going.

Mr. Stewart Officer, Dr Patrick and hotel staff had formed a team of helpers to help ourselves and the Mexicans had asked for doctors, nurses, security staff, mechanics, electricians, plumbers and any unwanted medicine, as people were running out of there medications. These people, in the end, saved three people from dying. We owed them so, so, so much.

22/10/2005

30hrs and Wilma still sat on us; the building was still shaking but we were safe. We heard from the Americans that the U.S embassy staff was coming to the shelter that night, or in the morning, to get the Americans out. The British government and tour operators were meeting back in the UK to plan our evacuation. The storm went quiet by mid-day - a bit of hope came to us they will try and let us out for a short time - may be 3pm. Bad news, the storm picked up again; she will not go away; yet more rain; strong winds blow the rain into the aircon vents forcing it into the building; yet more ceiling tiles fall dangerously; an elderly lady is struck while asleep and she is rushed away to be seen to.

We were told officially that Cancun was now under 8ft of water. A state of emergency had been issued and Marshall Law enforced. Our British team was trying to get hold of the UK government requesting help FAST. Some people were dangerously ill and three were close to death - two elderly and one infant.

Late Saturday and throughout the night someone new got sick almost by the minute with diarrhea and vomiting. When a person isn't able to rinse their mouth out, brush their teeth, take a shower, or take refuge in their own private bathroom, it brings the need for many to escape the sweat pit that much more urgent

23/10/2005

Wilma is dying!!

The worst of Wilma was now finally behind us. With the approach of morning we were released to the outdoors and we exuberantly tasted the sweet, clean air while taking in the wreckage of our surroundings.

For the first few hours in the outdoors people were just plain happy to breathe. A group took up a collection for the hotel staff, who had kindly volunteered their time and remained uplifting and encouraging during the toughest of times, despite their personal worries of their own homes and families. We formed a human funnel so the Mexicans walked through and we clapped them in. Two bags full of 20 to 100 dollar notes were collected for the staff to help get their families through the months ahead in which they may be out of work. In a touching, off the cuff speech, one of the staff members talked about how, regardless of our skin colour, we pulled through together as a team and proclaimed, "We're the survivors of Hurricane Wilma!" Oddly enough, it was these moments of conquest and relief that home was approaching that produced tears in most of us, rather than during moments of desperation.

The Americans had been told they were going to be saved. An air force with helicopters and jets (there words not mine) would be here in the morning. The Americans’ mood suddenly changes; THEY were going to be saved. Forget all about the Canadians, British and Asians, the whole day was about them. The Brits started losing patients DEMANDING TO KNOW MORE INFO.

Our team headed to Cancun for more info. They arrived back hours later with news that the British government were sending aircrafts to islands close to us for an evacuation when the airport was ready to re-open. Good news at last.

The Americans were smoking there fat cigar’s and the ladies are shaving there legs with the bottled water which is on ration but they find a stash and pass it around themselves. This was the water, which should be for us when they have gone.

As the evening waned on, people started to get more restless and very hungry as well. Moods became increasingly volatile, and fights were always close at hand, but luckily were kept in check with great effort by those most upset.

24/10/2005

Wilma gone!!

There was an emergency meeting with us all. Stewart Officer and Dr Patrick informed us all that the carpet in the building, which was soaking, was causing diseases lung/ chest problems which we were all breathing in; we needed to remove the carpet fast. Food would be rationed; people must disinfect there hands before and after toilets, food collections and in and out of the building. There would be volunteers making sure we did this as, if we don’t, there was a person who was close to death and we need to control infection. Also they needed all mobile phones, and would use them to contact our families tell them we’re safe. This would be run all day and night - just write your short message and hand in to volunteers.

The Americans were still here. Yes, a helicopter did arrive and, yes, the Americans screamed and danced but when it landed and a British Officer came out their faces were a picture. Jack Straw MP sent the army out and had provided us with extra medicines and he wanted an up date on our situation. Oh, the American air force never turned up! As night fell, we heard that every one who was ill was OK and safe.

That night Carmel and I walked around and there was a sense of calm; gospel singers singing and there was even a British singer singing Elvis songs. It changed the whole mood, everywhere. Someone played Michael Bublé: “Just Want to Go Home.” OMG - the tears flowed and boy did they flow.

25/10/2005

Great news this morning - the British government were sending planes out this morning and we were going HOME. As we said our good byes to our new friends, I felt sadness that we were abandoning the Mexicans. They were with us all the time not knowing if there families were safe, these people were fantastic.

I was put in charge of arranging people to evacuate on the buses, taking names and passport numbers as most peoples’ documents were destroyed in their rooms; no suite cases; no flight details - nothing. The British government required the info so we could: (a) get a flight and (b) let us back into the UK without passport as some people left them in there rooms which was now destroyed.

I was taking peoples’ details and telling them which bus to board when they arrived. This went on for three hours. When the coaches arrived, people boarded their allocated coach. When a group came angrily to me complaining that the coach was full I say, “Can’t be - let’s have a look.” When I get on board the coach twelve Americans had sneaked on claiming to be British so they could get to the airport. “Get off,” and off they came and peace was back again.

Our ride to the airport was a dangerous adventure in and of itself. The water came up to the bus floor, and we actually were traveling the wrong way on the road, as only one lane was open. Buildings were obviously ravaged, rooftops gone, walls caved in, palm trees decapitated, and the green mangrove swamps were now nothing but naked sticks. People were walking around in a daze. Cancun lay in near ruin.

When we arrived at the airport the queues were horrendous with cars, coaches and military everywhere. We waited for six hours only to be told that the airport could not take any planes for landing as all the electric had shut down. What now? The reps made phone calls and found a hotel, which would take us for the night all 10 coaches!!!! But it was three hours away. We arrived late into the night, and were greeted by hot, bloody good-looking food and loads of it. We were given a room, yes a bed, yippee!! and toilet, towels, tooth paste, soap, toilet paper, shower which was shared with a very frightened, small, green frog. When I turned the shower on it was dirty brown water. Hey, so what, I thought. I am the lucky one after what we saw today with the locals.

Next morning, very early, 3am, we set off back to the airport, hopefully, for our flight home. We watched as the black of the night was gradually diluted to grey, then the grey turned a milky shade and a ribbon of pink appeared on the eastern horizon. The light of the new day revealed to us the whole length of the line and our mood sinks even further; we now start to question our hopes of leaving the same day. Off and on, military trucks passed by, soldiers holding machine guns, some on the ready, just in case… I caught myself thinking what would happen if somebody’s frustration reached the boiling point and a fight broke out. Would they really start shooting? I quickly dismissed the thought and tried to conjure up positive thoughts instead. When we arrived, the scene had not changed. We waited and waited. All the paper work passed on to the military. The airport was cordoned off by the Mexican military, only letting specific travel company buses cross the threshold. We were not allowed to the entrance of the airport, which was about half a mile away, until our planes had landed.

The days that followed were a mix of highs and lows and lots of frustrations. Getting out of the country was a very hard work. Communication was still nonexistent as mobile towers were out and traditional phone lines were down. Our families still didn't know if we were dead or alive.

When we finally did get a plane out of the country it was basically to any British Airport. We ended up on a flight to Gatwick - whatever plane you were put on that’s it. Everyone on the plane was given VIP treatment courtesy of First Choice and the government. As the plane taxied along the runway and took off I started to cry as I looked outside. The whole place was a mess; it was awful and we were running away from them. Everyone aboard was clapping during the take-off. I join in and I realised that, never in my life was I so happy to be returning from a holiday. I knew we would never forget this trip and the adventure it brought us and that would have a story to share and memories to cherish for many years to come, but for now, I breathed a sigh of relief. I leaned my seat back and finally relax. What a holiday! We landed in Gatwick, then a coach journey to Manchester; a total of 36 hrs and three countries from leaving the Moon Palace shelter.

Aftermath

In the end, Wilma ended up being a more powerful hurricane than Katrina but, however, it claimed far fewer lives, likely, thanks to the Mexican government's swift initial response. The category five "Bitch" allegedly caused 42 deaths, basically destroyed the resort town of Playa del Carmen, and seriously damaged 1,000 Cancun homes.

We went back to Cancun’s Moon Palace, two years later to personally thank them. I had kept in touch by e-mail. When we arrived, the general manager made us his special guest. We gave them gifts and said we were sorry to leave them in such a way but they said: “You have helped us by coming back.” We saw plenty of staff who remembered us and they remembered our names!!!!! The place looked like it had never seen WILMA.

Big thank you to:

The Mexican people from Moon Palace

Stewart Officer

Dr Patrick

(These two stayed behind to help the Americans and Mexicans. If it was not for them, well, who knows what might have happened).

PHOTOGRAPHS OF THE EVENT