5:00 am, Ocean City NJ. The streets are empty of cars. Rain is light. The wind has died completely after blowing for more than 17 hours. If not for the leaves on the trees, one would think we had just been through a nor'easter. The ocean can be heard, but the sound is no indication of the fury that is Irene. We know that the winds will return, blowing down the street toward the beach as Irene shows us her backside.
We have been very fortunate. No power outage, no loss of cable or internet, so we could plot the storm's course via the National Hurricane Center, the National Data Buoy Center, and the ubiquitous Weather Channel. At midnight, the ocean buoys south of us, from the Delaware Bay all the way to Virginia, were reporting winds at or under 35 knots, or about 40 mph. The Weather Channel was still reporting the top wind speeds within the storm, which are not the same as the wind speeds at ground level.
We recorded a top gust of 62 mph about 8 pm last night, and our weather station has seen higher many times in the past. We are grateful. We don't see much more rain on the horizon as dawn approaches.
We watch the radar, and read reports from friends elsewhere, and know that others have not been so fortunate. Rivers, streams, lakes and ponds are over their banks and it is still raining inland. Trees are down, and many are without power.
Here in town, we know only what we can see out our individual windows and doors. A neighbor's lights and a few text messages let us know we are not alone, but as we sit snug on high ground in the north end, we have no idea what is happening in the low lying areas to the south and along the bay front. Soon, dawn will break and we will be able to see all the way to the dune line and know how well it has held.
We will walk the dog a bit, and have a hot breakfast, and give thanks.