That area seems to invite catastrophes. Although it was technically Texas City, it was still Galveston harbor, where a ship with ammonium nitrate fertilizers exploded in 1947. Supposedly the largest non-nuclear explosion in history.
Galveston is one of the few places in Texas I actually miss. I worked for Progressive Insurance for 10 years and for several of those years was a member of their National Catastrophe Team. I was sent back to Houston in 2008 after Hurricane Ike. Most of the city of Houston was without power, which made getting anywhere in the city a nightmare. Every intersection on Westheimer was a go-for-broke clusterfuck.
I spent a couple days down on the Bolivar Peninsula, where several people died when they refused to evacuate. Of the approximately 500 houses on the peninsula, ONE remained standing. Houses had been swept off their concrete pads and taken out to sea by the storm surge. Cars had been deposited in some cases a half-mile inland in deep, thick mud.
Driving over the causeway to Galveston, the first thing I noticed was the pungent aroma of rotting garbage. Virtually every house on the island had piled everything they owned on their curb, soaked as it was in seawater from the storm surge. Those piles would remain in place for weeks.
Then there were the more remote places like Oak Island in Trinity Bay that looked like Ground Zero and did for weeks because they didn't have the money or the insurance to rebuild.
I saw sailboats in fields and on roads and damage I can't even begin to describe. I've lived and worked in two war zones, and yet I've never seen the sort of devastation I saw after Hurricane Ike.
If I live to 105 and never see anything like that again, I'll die a very happy man.
That area seems to invite catastrophes. Although it was technically Texas City, it was still Galveston harbor, where a ship with ammonium nitrate fertilizers exploded in 1947. Supposedly the largest non-nuclear explosion in history.
I was thinking of writing about that story sometime soon, too. It was harrowing.
I read somewhere that the longshoremen unloading the ship were smoking ... I mean *before* the explosion.
Galveston is one of the few places in Texas I actually miss. I worked for Progressive Insurance for 10 years and for several of those years was a member of their National Catastrophe Team. I was sent back to Houston in 2008 after Hurricane Ike. Most of the city of Houston was without power, which made getting anywhere in the city a nightmare. Every intersection on Westheimer was a go-for-broke clusterfuck.
I spent a couple days down on the Bolivar Peninsula, where several people died when they refused to evacuate. Of the approximately 500 houses on the peninsula, ONE remained standing. Houses had been swept off their concrete pads and taken out to sea by the storm surge. Cars had been deposited in some cases a half-mile inland in deep, thick mud.
Driving over the causeway to Galveston, the first thing I noticed was the pungent aroma of rotting garbage. Virtually every house on the island had piled everything they owned on their curb, soaked as it was in seawater from the storm surge. Those piles would remain in place for weeks.
Then there were the more remote places like Oak Island in Trinity Bay that looked like Ground Zero and did for weeks because they didn't have the money or the insurance to rebuild.
I saw sailboats in fields and on roads and damage I can't even begin to describe. I've lived and worked in two war zones, and yet I've never seen the sort of devastation I saw after Hurricane Ike.
If I live to 105 and never see anything like that again, I'll die a very happy man.
HORRIBLE, wasn't it? Devastating. And you're right--those images remain imprinted on your mind forever.