I Survived the Derecho Land Hurricane 2020, In Cedar Rapids

Something big happened on Monday August 10th, 2020.

Something that turned, what we thought would be a perfectly normal Monday, upside down. Something I never thought I would experience in my lifetime, especially living in the Midwest. It’s something that you may, or may not have heard about, but I think you should know about it. Not just because it upended a city with the population of 130,000+ people. Not just because many of those people have been without power for over a week now. And not just because it happened to me, and I want to share.

But because it was a type of storm that I, nor anyone I know, has never heard of before.  This type of storm, although rare, has happened in Chicago, Illinois in just 2011. Eight of these storms have occurred in the U.S. alone, in 2020. Yet, no one even knows what it’s called. Why aren’t people talking about this kind of storm?!

Why isn’t this a type of storm warning?

You need to know. So that if you hear a warning that it is coming your way you will understand just how destructive and dangerous it can be. You will know to take shelter.

It’s called a derecho.

According to Wikipedia it is a widespread, long lived, straight line wind storm with fast moving rainstorms or thunderstorms. They are known to potentially have tornado force winds, or even hurricane force winds. Derecho means straight in Spanish. Therefore, it is referring to the fact that unlike a tornado or a hurricane, the winds are straight instead of twisted. However, the forces and spread of the winds can be as strong as a tornado or a hurricane.

What we experienced last Monday in Cedar Rapids, Iowa had winds that were as strong as a category 2 hurricane.

This storm has been nicknamed a “land hurricane”. And that’s exactly what the destruction has been compared to as well.

Although, we had about 10 minutes of warning that we would have severe thunderstorms (a common storm in the Midwest), with possible strong winds (also common in the Midwest), we had no idea that strong winds meant as little as 90 mph up and up to 112 mph of winds that lasted from 20 to 30 minutes straight.

At first, I thought it was a tornado that we experienced, until I heard more about how wide spread the destruction was.

I am not a science person. I do not know if meteorologists themselves knew what was going to hit us, or just how bad it was going to be.  But I hope by talking about this derecho storm that there will be a few steps made to make it more of a legit warning. To tell people what a derecho is.

I have heard the destruction of this particular derecho storm is worse than that of Hurricane Katrina (which I know everyone in the U.S. knows about). I have heard from a friend who is a power lineman, who is working hard to get power back in our city as you read this – that this is the worst storm he has seen. And he has seen a lot of storms, including hurricanes.

The big difference between this derecho storm we experienced in Cedar Rapids, and other parts of Iowa, is that we had 10 minutes of warning for a storm that we thought would just be another thunderstorm with strong winds. Whereas, people who live in locations where hurricanes occur more frequently have 2 to 3 days to prepare. They have time to make sure their generator is working properly (or to buy a generator), they have time to stock up on batteries for flashlights in case of a power outage. They have time to buy bottles of water, and canned goods in case the roads are blocked. Their houses are built to better withstand these kinds of winds. In Iowa, ours our not.

We did not have time to prepare any those things.

It’s not a competition. It’s just want happened. And I think people should understand. Not for sympathy, or for fear that this could happen to you. But again, for education. For a more widespread knowledge of what a derecho storm can mean.

I am not a journalist. I never was interested in that type of writing. But, still, I am a writer who writes best about things she has experienced, rather than facts. So, let me tell you our story of the derecho land hurricane that hit Cedar Rapids on Monday August 10th, 2020.

They say that a writer lives events twice.

Once when it happens. And a second time when they write it. This is true. So, please forgive me if I get a little shaky on you, it’s been just over a week since the storm hit and I am still emotionally rattled.

First off, let me start by saying that my husband and I are safe. Our cat, Luna is safe. Everyone we know in the city and surrounding areas that got hit with this storm is also safe. For that, we are grateful everyday.

Since March, due to Covid-19, Paul has been working from home. As you may know, have been working from home for years. We have been enjoying that Paul has been working from home, we can go for walking breaks together, we can eat lunch together, his schedule is a bit more flexible this way. We have been saving money on gas without his drive to work everyday.

Last Monday, about 12:00 we were just starting to make sandwiches for lunch when the warning system for our city’s sirens started going off. If I remember correctly, it was sunny with maybe a few clouds. Now, I didn’t grow up in a location that could hear a warning system with storms and since living near one, it has gone off when there has just been an intense thunderstorm. I always thought it was telling anyone outside to take shelter. Yes, I would go down to the basement, I would listen to the warning system, but I was never too worried because it seems a little bit like “cry wolf”. So, I kept making my sandwich, and worked on getting our cat, Luna inside who would obviously be scared by the loud sirens and would prefer not to get rained on. Luna came inside as soon as the sirens stopped.

 

Then the sky went from sunny, with a little overcast to dark gray. I thought, “okay it’s about to downpour, maybe thunder.” Paul and I sat down to eat our lunch. I was just about to check my phone for the weather when the rain started, the winds started blowing, and the power began flickering on and off. At this point it got dark enough that we had to turn on most of our lights in the living room. My phone just said “severe thunderstorm warning with strong winds”. No biggie when you’ve lived in the Midwest your whole life, you just know to get inside. Don’t stand near a tree or a flag pole. And maybe, if it seems bad enough, go to your basement.

We were sitting at the table in the living room that has the most windows, outside is a large tree. At one point the tree was blowing so intensely, I realized that I didn’t want to sit in that spot anymore in case the tree fell on our house. We watched a large branch on the tree blow off and get stuck on our front porch. This is the point when we realized we needed to go to the basement. The power was fully out at this time, not just flickering anymore.

We grabbed flashlights, our phones, and the remainder of our lunch and headed to the basement.

It was soon after we went to the basement that Paul thought to text his family who live in Dubuque, Iowa, an hour away from  us, to take cover if they the storm comes their way. The sky was a weird shade of green. The rain was intensely pouring out of the sky. Trees branches and bushes were pounding on the small windows in our basement. Luna seemed scared by the noise, she was sticking close.

Paul said something about possibly losing a tree. I was in denial about how bad this storm was. I remember saying, “that won’t happen.” Some of these moments, and the order in which they happened in are a little bit hazy and jumbled. I went from thinking nothing was out of the ordinary with this storm to realizing that this was unlike any rainstorm I had ever experienced.

For some reason Paul decided to go upstairs. He came back down to the basement with shoes in his hand to trade in his sandals. He said, “in case the house collapses and we have to climb out of rubble.” I asked him why he didn’t grab my shoes? He responded with a mumble that was nonsensical. This was when I realized that Paul was a bit panicked, and he doesn’t usually panic. So, I started panicking a little more.

Side note: we now laugh about how he didn’t get shoes for me. My friend gave him the benefit of the doubt by saying that he was planning to carry me out of said rubble, obviously. At least we can have a sense of humor.

At one point Paul’s ears popped, and mine didn’t. That was when we thought we were in the midst of a tornado. Not a tornado.  It was worse.

We noticed some water that was trickling down in the basement. Paul went to see where it was coming from and said when he went to the second level of the house he could feel it swaying. He didn’t discover where the water was coming from yet. But, he did realize that 4 out of our 5 window a/c units had water gushing into them. The wind was so strong that the accordion pieces on the sides of the a/c units that keep the air from coming in through the gap in the window and the a/c unit was blowing in the wind. Literally buckets of water was coming into our house. We made quick work of taking out the a/c units and mopping up the floors with towels to save our hard wood floors from water damage. We used almost every towel in our house.

Soon after the a/c unit incident the strong winds died down and the rain went from a downpour to a manageable rain. Trees branches and bushes were no longer pounding against the side of the house and the windows. My memory could be a little foggy, but I think it lasted 30 to 45 minutes.

Paul went to our attic to check our roof and sure enough there was a strip of sky visible and the attic floor beneath was wet. Now, we knew how water was getting down into the basement.

We stepped outside and saw trees down everywhere in our backyard, and in all our neighbors yards (photos above). Our back yard was a mess. The grill lid was missing from the grill. Chairs were toppled over. Branches, shingles, and debris were scattered everywhere. Power lines were down. Pieces of leaves were clinging to the siding of our house. Our new-ish fence was broken and blown over. Our favorite maple tree that turns beautiful colors in the fall was broken. A tree fell onto our lilac bushes that are my favorite in the spring. Our neighbor had a very tall pine tree that was snapped in half. Thankfully no one nearby, including our house, had any trees fall on houses. Soon we would learn that others weren’t as lucky.

It was overwhelming. My brain couldn’t process everything at once.

I quickly realized how in denial I was during the storm. I truly didn’t realize how dangerous it could have been if we were stuck outside, unable to get to shelter.

We were incredibly lucky to be physically unharmed.  Where we a little shaken? Yes.

Paul thought it would be a good idea to drive to Menard’s to get a tarp to deal with our roof. It was still raining, but it was clear the worst of the storm was over. Menard’s is only 1 mile from our house.

We could not get to Menard’s.

There were pedestrians who took it upon themselves to direct traffic and turn people around who were trying to go down roads that we later learned had fallen trees or power lines blocking the way of traffic. We tried several different routes to get to Menard’s and it was the same thing. The only thing we could do was to go home.

This was when we saw other parts of our neighborhood, only a few blocks away, and realized that although we had damage, it was minimal compared to others. We saw houses with trees fallen on them. Roofs with large chunks of roof missing down to the rafters.  Literally every large tree we saw was damaged. The small, flexible trees where the only ones unharmed.

We saw people running around, not sure what just happened, or what to do.

It was chaos.

It was devastating.

We didn’t know what to do either.

Soon after we attempted to go to Menard’s we used a flimsy paint tart to try to funnel anymore rain water into a bucket in our attic.

I tried to text some family on the other side of town, texted friends to see if they were okay. Most of my texts couldn’t get out.  Cell service was spotty. We didn’t know if this thing hit our family in Dubuque. I finally got hold of a friend in Dubuque and they said they got a few rain clouds and power was out for half of the day, but nothing major.

They had no idea what had just happened to us.

I tried to call my parents who live in Wisconsin, 3 hours away. I couldn’t. I texted, hoping it would get to them. I turned my phone on airplane mode to save battery. Later, I stood in the middle of the street and called them on Paul’s newer phone. It was the only place our connection didn’t cut out.

We felt isolated. Exhausted.

Ambulance, police, and fire truck sirens became the soundtrack for the remainder of that scary Monday that turned our day upside down.

That evening Paul could finally get a hold of his parents who live an hour away in Dubuque. It was spotty and challenging. Through jumbled text messages they somehow finally understood that we needed stronger tarps for our roof. They brought us some to help us protect our house from anymore potential rain. It was obvious we weren’t going to get power back that night.

We drove to Dubuque to stay with Paul’s parents later that night. Packing in the dark, with head lamps on.

That evening, when we were exhausted and probably a little bit in shock, I realized that the normal Monday lunch I was looking forward to seemed like it was days ago. In a matter of 45 minutes our quiet, uneventful Monday, and the remainder of the week, was unlike anything we had planned for.

We knew it would be a while before things would feel normal, and uneventful again. It would be a while before the city of Cedar Rapids (and Marion, where we live, which is right next to Cedar Rapids) would feel or look normal again.

Now, just a little over a week after the derecho land hurricane hit Cedar Rapids, we are doing okay.

It’s been a long week, but we are doing well.

We have been staying in Dubuque with Paul’s parents, where there is power and air conditioning, refrigeration, and internet. Last week we didn’t get much work done for our jobs.  We drove home almost every day to deal with the house. To pick up a little bit of debris in the yard. To pack up food from the refrigerator and freezer to bring to Dubque, and to throw some away.

We are luckier than most. We are fortunate to have family in a city close enough to check on our house, but far enough away that things look normal. We are lucky that everyone we know is safe. We know it could have been so much worse. We got so many offers for help from friends and family, it warms my heart. We are supported.

Insurance has been called, and there isn’t much we can do to our house until they come to take a look. A roofing company put tarp is on our roof so that we don’t have to worry about rain getting in.

We are living in two different houses, though. I keep forgetting what I brought with me to Dubuque. I feel like a nomad. I am still a bit disoriented. But I am waking up everyday counting my blessings and being thankful that what was lost is repairable. Yes, trees take hundreds of years to grow tall, but they can still be planted. People, though can’t be as easily replaced.

As of today, when I am writing this post, a week and a day after the storm hit, we still don’t have power at our house. Along with many others in the city. Some fortunately, have gotten power restored. And those that have power still don’t have internet.

It seems to me that unless you know someone who was effected by this storm, you may not have known about it. Even cities nearby don’t truly realize how bad it was. These pictures I show you don’t do the destruction justice. It’s heartbreaking.

I never thought I would live this. Only see it on the news.

So many people in the city are displaced. Due to Covid-19 shelters aren’t being set up. People have been without air conditioning for over a week, in this August heat. They can only cook on a grill, and if they have one, a gas stove. The ice that is coming into stores is getting sold out so fast. The first two days after the storm you had to drive 30 minutes out of town to get gas, if you could get out of town. Roads are closed due to fallen trees and fallen power lines. Traffic lights are blinking red, if they are on. Others are completely off, traffic is slow.

My heart breaks for those people.

Power lineman (including my friend, who had to leave his wife, 2-year-old daughter, and week-old-baby) have been coming from all over the country, even Canada, to work around the clock in the heat and sun. They are working so hard to get our power back up. They are our heroes.

Again, we are lucky to live on the edge of town and be able to stay in Dubuque with family. We don’t know how long we will be here.

Due to Covid, and other situations, I am not sure why, it seems that this storm hasn’t gotten very much national news coverage. It could also be because nobody knows what a derecho storm is, I didn’t before last Monday. It took 3 to 4 days for a 2 minute blurb about the storm to be covered – I am hoping more is on the news now. We are the breadbasket of America. Millions of dollars of crops were lost. Farms are badly damaged. Metal silos are crumpled up in the ditch, like a piece of paper.

We may not be a huge city, although we are the second largest city in Iowa. You may not have heard much about us, even if you live in the Midwest. But, I hope you will think of us right now.

This is not asking for a pity party, or asking for a spotlight. The people of Iowa are capable and strong, but we are tired.

It’s about asking for your positive loving thoughts, your best wishes, your prayers (whatever you believe in), we need your good vibes sent our way.

It’s about spreading the word for what a derecho storm is. So that you know that it could mean a land hurricane. To take cover. To grab some food and a flashlight.

That strong winds could mean up to 112 mph.

I don’t wish a derecho storm (or any other natural disaster) to happen to anyone, but if it does, I hope that you get more warning then we did.

I write this post with seriousness, because this derecho storm was serious. Because the intense, overwhelming thoughts and emotions rush through me as I re-live it.

But, I want you to  know that we really are doing well. We are laughing and making jokes. We are going for runs. We are visiting with family and friends.  We are playing with Luna and giving her lots of pets. We are feeling thankful. We are learning to be flexible and go with the flow.

We are taking each day as it goes. We don’t know when we will move back to our house fully. We are just doing our best to piece by piece, tree limb by tree limb, pick ourselves back up and start a new normal.

Here is what 2020 with Covid-19, and now this storm, has taught me: live in the present moment. You truly never know when things out of your control will quickly change your circumstances. Be grateful for all the good, even when there is bad and uncertainty around you. Enjoy the little things in life, that is where lasting happiness lives.

I take comfort in trusting that after every storm (even this one) there is a rainbow, even if there wasn’t a literal rainbow, figuratively, in some form, it will appear.

Thanks for taking the time to read this post. I hope you learned something.

Sending hugs to my fellow Iowans. And anyone else in the Midwest affected by the storm. My Aunt and Uncle in Rockford Illinois were also without power for a few days.

We are strong. We’ve got this!

Sending love to anyone who was effected by this derecho storm, or any other natural disaster. Please see below for more photos, that are captioned.

P.S. I wrote an updated post, Life After the Derecho in December 2020, if you would like to read and see pictures of the process of moving forward from this tragic storm. I would also like to let you know here, that we finally got our roof fixed in April 2021 – 8 months after the Derecho.  It felt so good to put that behind us.

Thanks friends, for being here. I appreciate you, always, but especially now.