In the early morning hours of Oct. 24, Hurricane Wilma swept across the straits of Florida, one week after producing the lowest measured barometric pressure ever recorded in the Atlantic, with sustained winds in excess of 180 mph. As Wilma brushed by Key West that morning, it had diminished into a Category 3 storm, with an eye-wall 35 miles in diameter and 120 mph winds, but it packed plenty of punch.
Residents of Key West, veterans of many hurricanes, hunkered down in their storm-tested structures and prepared for the cleanup to come as the rampaging winds pruned the tops of the low island's palm trees and scattered debris.
More of a surprise was the rolling surge of ocean in the storm's wake. The tide of seawater, elevated by the shallow sand banks, rose in Key West 3 to 10 feet above normal levels and washed over and around everything in its path -- streets, houses, hotels, restaurants, shopping centers -- before retreating within hours.
While the flood didn't pack the destructive wallop of a tsunami and took no lives, it did plenty of damage, rearranging beaches, re-mooring marinas, flooding hundreds of vehicles, drenching first floors and depositing salty slime and seaweed on everything it covered. The old buildings of Key West's main historic district, situated on the island's highest ground, generally escaped the deluge, but the coastal fringes and lower-lying neighborhoods, suffered considerable hardship and property loss.
Yet when I visited Key West early this month, 10 weeks after the storm, evidence of Wilma's ravishings already was relatively difficult to detect in the main tourist areas. Yes, the high vegetation had been closely cropped, but the trees had weathered the storm and should recover with the coming season, as will much of the other flora. Restaurants, inns and resorts were open for business and functioning near normal, wind damage was repaired and repainted, beaches were already replenished. Now a flood of visitors surged over Mallory Square, the marina and Duval Street. To my brief experience, Key West remains a uniquely enchanting place to visit.
Perhaps more lasting than the storm's effects will be the memory of the storm. Key West has a reputation for attracting strong-headed, self-sufficient residents, but those with whom I spoke seemed chastened by Wilma's magnitude and all too aware that more big storms will come. Several who ignored the evacuation orders wondered whether they'd be as likely to try and ride out the next one.
Against that eventuality, officials in the Keys have pioneered techniques in storm preparedness and the art of evacuation forecasting and management, making sure candid, accurate assessments were disseminated about the storm, its impact and recovery efforts.
Hurricanes are capricious, but Key West retains the "enjoy-today-and-deal-with-what-tomorrow-brings" attitude that makes it a special place to see and be. If you're inclined to visit, it might be wise to go while you can.
First Published: January 22, 2006, 5:00 a.m.
