A Town Drowned Part Three

Photos by Patrick Boone

The first thing I noticed coming into Rushford was this sign, with a pile of snowmobiling signs piled against it. The field it is next to is likely ruined and the house on the outskirts of town had water up another level of bricks earlier in the morning. I was growing more somber with each flooded corn or soy field we passed between Houston and Rushford, the crops that had looked to be exceptional this year were now dying. We parked just before the bridge and walked over it, trees were going by under it along with other debris headed for Houston.




The sound of diesal engines filled the air, farmers had arrived with tractors to run pumps, feverishly trying to pump the water trapped between two levees.


People were gathered, some were tourists who were lost, others just thought it would be fun to see a disaster. The locals had a different attitude, one of shock and loss. A grim sense of humor was the only response to the situation for some of them. Also, a sense of helplessness could be felt as nature's fury is so much bigger than we are.

Only a week before, I'd been in Rushford for unhappy reasons, as we'd hit a deer with our 2005 Subaru Outback and had limped into town. The car took major damage and had to be left at the Kwik Trip parking lot to be towed later. Little did we know what would happen a week later.


This is what a doe will do to a car traveling 55 MPH.



The parking lot on Sunday.

Continued...

A Town Drowned Part Two

Photos by Patrick Boone

After going back home, a friend called, excited by the prospect of seeing some flooding. He wanted to come out to our place in the country and then go see Rushford. The attitude rubbed me the wrong way, but I wanted to check Rushford out because what happens at the Root River there always comes downstream to Houston. My concern about the town and the fields between won out over being irked at the friend, so the three of us set out for Rushford in the afternoon.

The water was no higher in the Yucatan valley than before, in fact it was visibly going down. There was too much crop damage for my liking and I wondered how things were in Houston proper. Our friend wanted to go North on HWY 76 and didn't really believe it would be blocked. Seeing is believing and so we went there. The bridge goes over the river and I wanted to see how the levee was holding, knowing that Rushford's had failed to save that town.


The Civil Air Patrol was manning the barricades and while the others looked at the swollen river, I talked to the man who was explaining things to drivers. Overhearing him telling people that a volunteer evacuation was under way "for the moment", I asked,"Was the surge here yet?" His reply was less than comforting, "There are 48 inches of water coming this way!"

I rounded up the other two and it took several miles of driving to get them to understand that an evacuation was imminent. We needed to get to Rushford, ASAP.

Continued...

A Town Drowned

After getting the note from my dad, I began checking the news on TV and found out that roads all across the area were closed and that damage was widespread. A phone call from a friend in La Crescent brought news that they were only able to go to La Crosse, HWY 61 was closed by a landslide to the North and HWY 16 was closed to the South. The National Guard had arrived as well and a civil emergency had been declared by Governor Tim Pawlenty. Also, they wouldn't be able to make it down to Caledonia to help tear down the fair booth.

It is about this time during an emergency where I start to go stir crazy, frustrated with ill health and limitations of what I can do to help. So I waited until my dad returned and cursed the Net for being out locally. When he and our neighbor Randy returned, I found out just how bad things were.

Rushford was under up to ten feet of water in the downtown.

Photo by Randy Roland

People had been awakened at around 3:00 AM by water entering their basements and by town sirens going off. One woman had to wade through chest high water on her first floor, only to find her front door blocked by a pickup that had been washed against it. My dad witnessed rescuers chopping a hole in the roof of a house to get another woman out. Cars, trucks, and belongings had all been swept away in the initial torrent of water that crested over a levee in the North part of Rushford. The creek there had flooded quickly and the levee that protects the town from the Root River to the South had trapped the water in town.

Photo by Randy Roland

That's when I knew we had to get moving and get that booth torn down, before more weather hit and before more roads closed. The trip back to Caledonia showed a couple of more minor mudslides since when I'd been there and when we arrived, everyone was taking down their booths. The mood was somber and the lady in the next booth was actually from North of Rushford and didn't know the extent of the damage. I filled her in on what I'd heard and we discussed the known fatalities at the time, four people in Winona County. Everyone scattered for home, a truly grim way to end the festivities of a county fair.
Continued...

A Wider Disaster

When I saw that HWY 44 out of Caledonia was closed, I knew I was in for a long day. I briefly considered going down to Lansing, Iowa and crossing the Mississippi there, but decided that being determined is one thing and being bullheaded is another. Because of the mudslides on HWY 76, a more circuitous route through high ground appealed to me and that meant going through Spring Grove, Minnesota. From there I'd head North to home and figure out my next move.

Somewhere during all this plotting it had decided to rain again and it was a gloomy drive. About half way to Spring Grove, the rain came again and visibility became bad just outside the small Norwegian town. I pulled over by the local bank and called into Church to say nobody from Elders Quorum would make the meeting. More bad news, that things were the same across the river in Wisconsin and I wasn't the only one who couldn't make it. So I went home and reported what I'd seen to my dad, made plans to go to the fairgrounds in Caledonia to tear down the booth later, then crashed for a nap after a very long week.

The power coming back on roused me from my stupor and I came out of my room to find a note from my father:

PAT -- 0920
Went to Rushford with Randy to survey damage
Whole town is under water

Photo by Randy Roland

To be continued...

The Flood Disaster of 2007

Photo by Patrick Boone

I really don't know where to begin, it has been a horrible weekend to end a tough week of a dismal summer. We'd been in drought conditions in our little corner of Minnesota and had finally gotten the rain we'd needed to save the crops over the last several weeks.

But then came Saturday, when the rain never ended and came in torrential downpours. I'd been manning the Houston County Republicans booth at the Houston County Fair and traffic had been above expectations Wednesday through Friday. Saturday was like being at a morgue, the rain and temperatures that never exceeded 62 degrees made it a dreary affair.

I was concerned about flooding as the water table was saturated, with nowhere for runoff to go. It was only that evening that I realized how bad things were going to be, remarking to my father that I'd probably not be able to go to church in Onalaska, WI the next morning due to flooding. He was skeptical, but I knew things were going to be bad and started formulating alternate routes around the Root River if State HWY 16 Houston to Hokah was flooded as usual. I'd check the info on the Net when I got up in the morning.

The power went out and didn't come back until around 10:30 or 11:00 am. With no Net and running a little behind because I needed to go to the PEC meeting at 8:30 am, I set out just before 7:15. The first thing I noticed was that we'd escaped major flooding in Yucatan Valley thanks to the creek beds having been considerably widened and deepened by 2000's massive flood. Then I started to have to veer around minor mudslides, nothing too much to worry about. As I traveled farther North, it became more apparent how many fields were flooded, with soy underwater and corn standing in one or two feet of water. Now the threat of drought had been replaced by destruction by water.

Campers and RV's passed by me, heading for higher ground and I noticed some parked at a local rural Lutheran church. Not a good sign, I thought. Sure enough, got up to HWY 16 and there was a pickup blocking the road, along with an earthen berm partially across one lane. Okay, expected that, so I turned into town and pulled to the side to call the Elders Quorum 2nd Counselor to see if he could make it to the meeting in time. Turns out he wasn't even in the area, so I decided to take a longer way to get to the La Crosse area, figuring I could even go to I-90 if the other road paralleling the Root River was flooded. That's when I found out the bridge at Houston was closed.

Being the determined sort, I headed back and took HWY 76 to Caledonia, going the really long way to Hokah and then La Crescent on. Now I began to run into more mudslides, some blocking entire lanes, but nothing I couldn't get around. After far too much time driving, I arrived at the intersection at the North end of Caledonia and the road block there. The road to Hokah was closed.

To be continued...

I-35W Bridge Collapse in Minneapolis

There comes a point where one senses when another catastrophe has happened. I was walking down the driveway from the mailbox I'm planning to repaint and saw my father walking up the driveway toward me. That sense of catastrophe I'd felt when the space shuttle Challenger blew up filled my mind as we slowly converged. Sure enough, another disaster had struck, Fox News Channel had just broken its regular programming to show the wreckage of the I-35W bridge.

Once inside I watched the confusion and rising smoke evoking memories of 9/11. But I had no sense of menace, it was more akin to what I felt when the San Francisco earthquake destroyed the Bay Bridge years ago. I said a silent prayer and surveyed the scene, keenly aware that lives had been lost. With relief I saw the school bus, emergency door wide open, refuting the rumor of a bus going off the bridge. Still, it was clear that vehicles were missing, others were visibly mangled, and lives permanently changed.

I've been over that bridge and hadn't really paid any attention to it. Unless a bridge is really scenic, I don't think much about it and I imagine that's true for many people. You just expect it to be there and continue standing while you travel over it.

The stunned reaction of people to its collapse reminds me how ill prepared people are for the fact that they are very, very small in the scheme of things. Oddly enough, I expect this kind of thing to happen and just pray it doesn't happen to me. Answers are being sought for, people want to know why this happened, want to assign blame. Perhaps the cause will be found, perhaps it won't.

In the end, I think the stories of the survivors will matter more. Already, we have been told that motorists didn't run for their lives afterward, but checked each car for survivors. If true, that's a good change in our culture since 9/11.

On the flip side, the Democrats are already trying to blame Governor Pawlenty for it, typically playing their rabidly partisan games by using a disaster for perceived gain. There appears to be no depths they won't sink to and I weary of it. There are families grieving, people maimed, people dead, and people missing. They matter the most.

Watching the End of an Era

I've never been such a dedicated fan of anything in my adulthood that I went and stood in line for an event. The only time I did that was the last two Lord of the Rings movies and actually didn't spend much time at all even for the midnight showing of Return of the King. In fact, that was the only time I went to a midnight event and it was a low key affair locally, La Crosse being a small city. So it was with amusement that I read the email notification from Barnes & Noble about the Midnight Madness event. While I'd reserved a copy, I had no plans to pick it up until later next week.

As the days went by, I pondered the fact that the Harry Potter series is most likely the last gasp of big event books. Like others, I'd placed a great deal of hope on it bringing more young people to books in general. It would be the thing that got kids going in an increasingly illiterate culture, for if kids would be willing to read 700 page books, they'd have to look for other books, right? Alas, that has not proven to be the case, kids are reading fewer books today than they did ten years ago. Oh yes, they would read Rowling's books, but that's it. To a bibliophile such as myself, this was painful to find out.

With that in mind, I realized that I'd most likely never see such an event again in my lifetime. This was a cultural "happening" that wouldn't be repeated, for there will be no more adventures of Harry Potter in the foreseeable future. So I drafted my dad to drive and off I went to B&N to watch the people there, as people fascinate me. While he went off to Sears to match exterior paint for our long overdue house repainting, I walked over to the book store to see how things were scheduled.

At 8:30 pm there were already kids in black robes wandering the store and the staff were in full costume. After inquiring about how the books would be distributed, I had my name checked against the reservation list and had a paper bracelet put around my wrist, an orange one with the number 95 written in green. Those with orange bracelets went first, with green to the mallside registers and red to the front registers. These were the first waves to get the books, I was told and they figured it would be less than an hour to get them all sold.

I left and returned at 9:30 PM after going to another store, the rest of the mall was officially closed with one of the exits open besides the B&N entrance. The parking lot was packed, the store was packed, and more people were arriving. Most were young, of course, with many a parent in tow with a smattering of adult fans present. Spirits were high and the mood was festive, entertainment began around 10 PM with activities for the kids. There had been a broomstick contest I hadn't been aware of, so all the fancy brooms hanging from the ceiling weren't just there for decoration after all. The pretty young lady who won the contest got to be the first buyer, which was a nifty prize. I didn't see the wand making activity, but heard about it, but the fun one looked to be the potions table. Hard to tell, the kids were packed tight around it.

As time went buy, fatigue set in and I began to hurt a great deal, but I was still wandering around, observing the festivities. Eventually, I parked myself in the military history aisle and started reading Machiavelli's Discourses, which I purchased along with Heinlein's Starship Troopers. Oddly enough, I was in a very small minority purchasing other books that night, so much for getting extra sales from the event. After awhile, I had to get up and stretch, circulating once again. It was around 11 PM and the young folks were starting to really tire, especially the under 8's and teenagers. The tweeners had more energy and I could see parents rubbing their faces. Even so, the mood was still good.

A bullhorn was used to announce some things and half the store couldn't hear it. Of course, that was the half I was in, so there was some confusion for awhile. I ended up asking questions at the middle of the store and found out I had to buy my other books right away, which I did. At 11:30, more muddled bullhorn announcements and finally they started lining people up, with the first 50 of each color going first. At 11:40, even more unintelligible bullhorning and I suspected my block was next. I snaked through to the center of the store and found someone in authority (she was standing on a table, so I automatically assumed she was).

Yep, time to get in line and since I was number 95 (I am not a number, I am a free man!), I was asked to anchor the line so people with lower numbers could go before me. Lo and behold, I'd been drafted without even going through the Sorting Hat routine! Ah well. Some of the best conversation on the night was held in the line, because it took forever to get moving once Midnight hit. People were well behaved, even those with astronomically high numbers such as 270.

Once the line did start moving, it got going fast and I was out of there by 12:20 AM. The store was rapidly emptying as was the parking lot, far too many of all ages were up past their bedtimes and wanted to go home.

There was a sweetness to this event that you don't run into very often these days. While it was rough on my health, it was a once in a lifetime opportunity to witness an end of an era. I find myself somewhat saddened by it.