Exclusive: Fiona, the day after: ‘It looks like a bomb went off’

We did what we could to prepare, and still we were underprepared

PORT AUX BASQUES, N.L. — It’s a bright sunny morning, less than 24 hours after Hurricane Fiona battered the southwest coast, wreaking havoc and washing homes in the sea.

“It looks like a bomb went off,” said David Harvey, from the Port aux Basques branch of the Salvation Army while tending to displaced residents on Saturday night.

Harvey was arranging housing and his team of six volunteers plied us with a bag full of sandwiches, fruit cups, and even storm chips. An elderly couple who were sheltering had left their pup in the truck since public food service and pets do not compliment each other. A stranger popped his head into the centre and offered his basement. He told them to bring in their pup.

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Harvey’s assessment is much uglier in the daylight. Much of the town looks like it took a point blank blast from an army tank. The photos do little to capture the sheer shock of local residents, especially those who lost their homes. Some are a bit more stoic than others, focused on rebuilding. Others are understandably much more raw and emotional, dissolving into tears while passerby rush to comfort them.

We clear checkpoints, flashing news badges that grants us access to the worst of the damaged areas. These are our neighbours’ homes, not some strangers on the other side of the globe. Our family and friends lived there — until Saturday. Now they don’t.

Town Council and staff have been through some of the evacuated areas and are trying to keep people out. Vehicles get halted at manned checkpoints, but there are plenty of people walking down through the gravel road that skirts Andy’s Rainbow Park. There are still live wires, a search and rescue team is attempting to recover a 73- year-old woman swept out to sea on Saturday, and the debris is sharp and heavy, strewn everywhere. The centre of town is mostly clear and traffic is moving fine outside the checkpoints.

The children’s park, which has a wheelchair accessible swing and a custom-built wooden train, spent a lot of Saturday underwater while boats floated past the play area and bobbed dangerously close to homes in Charlie’s Head. On Sunday the park is coated in thick sea mud but passable, and the boats are scattered here and there where they landed once the water receded.

Tim Horton’s is packed, but it’s drive-through service only. The town has granted permission for essential businesses to open — pharmacies and grocery stores. Up at the high school, the Red Cross and Salvation Army are keeping people fed and warm, and ensuring they have a place to rest.

Mayor Brian Button estimates at least 20 homes swept out to sea, but I’m not sure if that includes the eight-unit, two-storey apartment building that used to be on Water Street East. The town was having housing issues before Fiona. Homes are selling fast and rentals are scarce, especially ones that allow pets or are more accessible for those with mobility issues.

During our evacuation on Saturday we remembered the dog but forgot everything else he needed. We crashed with a cousin and walked over to her neighbour that has a dog for a cup of dog food. They gave us a bag of dry dog food, a container of wet food, and an entire box of dog-friendly vanilla cookies that made all of us humans jealous.

I’ve had to turn off my phone in staggered intervals. As a writer I need to focus because we have a local paper to produce and we are already going to be a day late. I’m also struggling to compile all the information.

What needs to go out on social media now? What can wait for the paper and needs more investigation or clarification? Who do we still need to interview?

There are hundreds of photos, perhaps thousands. Just sorting through them all will take the better part of a week. We are slow to upload videos because our paper is a team of three and we are running on fumes.

Rene dozed off at 3 a.m. and got an interview request from London, England at 6 a.m. Then it’s up and out again, camera and recorder at the ready. Social media is non-stop and I have to mute it. There’s even a media request from Sierra Leone.

Speaking of social media, there’s been too many remarks I dislike about people building their homes too close to the water. It feels like a cheap shot to make if nothing else, and it’s also inaccurate. The homes that were swept away wouldn’t have been were it not for a hurricane force battering they were never built to withstand. Many of those homes still remain, but not all of them. Some will rebuild, just perhaps on a different street.

We get more than our fair share of large storms here.

In the winter we get storm surge warnings and Wreckhouse wind warnings every second day, and in the spring you can walk the beaches and collect a truckload or two of splintered trees stripped bear and blown into the ocean. These houses withstood those same conditions for decades without fail.

Water Street East is largely protected by the Channel Head rock island. It’s not a small island and it’s got a historic lighthouse on it. Channel Head has protected these homes from the ocean’s wrath for over a century. Fiona was so strong that Channel Head might as well been a sheet of tissue paper.

People did try to prepare here. They did what they were told, taking in furniture, stockpiling food and water. Other than somehow rebuild or relocate their homes within a matter of hours, it’s unclear what more they could have done. Some fled to cabins in the Codroy Valley area even well before the storm got close.

We did what we could to prepare, and still we were underprepared.

But there’s the bright side of social media and all this news attention too, even as we feel overwhelmed at times.

Today people are sending messages and asking what they can do to help from around the world. The Canadian Red Cross and the Salvation Army are accepting donations towards the rebuild, as are the local Lions Club and Gateway Women’s Centre. In Isle aux Morts volunteers are signing on to help clean up the debris. The province and federal government are sending help.

Newfoundlanders are a resilient bunch. We’ll get by with a little help from our new friends.

Special to the National Post

Rosalyn Roy is the Senior Staff Reporter for the Wreckhouse Weekly News