Growing up here in Hawaii, I’ve lived through now three hurricanes. Iwa, which happened when I was very young, left quite an impression on me. I remember driving home from after-school care and water shooting up from the manholes in the streets as we felt like we floated our way down the street into our driveway. I think because the fear was so real for me, I went to sleep. I woke up to many trees down and a few days of no school, so it felt like a vacation.
Iniki hit the island of Kaua’i really hard. Decimated it actually. I was on Oahu at the time and 15 and unstoppable as a teenager. Even though my mother wanted me to stay back and be safe at home, I left with one of my surfing buddies, and we watched the hurricane come in from a top-floor penthouse in Waikiki. There wasn’t much fear there because as a teenager, and especially for me, fear didn’t exist.
Her name was Lowell
Fast-forward to this last one that hit us here a month ago. Its name was Lowell, which ironically was the name of my great uncle, who was 68 and a gentle giant. Unlike my great uncle, this storm was nothing like him.
We knew it was coming days in advance, so most of our communities here on Kaua’i prepared well. The Costcos weren’t overcrowded, the gas stations didn’t have lines of people because if there’s something that us local people know in Hawai’i, it’s how to prepare for Mother Nature when she wants to show up strong. My husband loves this stuff. He and Uncle Mike, who is basically the security and Mr. Aloha of our whole compound, did some definite MacGyver-type preparing. They parked cars underneath the bamboo awnings and tied them down to the bumpers. They spent days cleaning out under one of our main workshop structures in case the river flooded. Got generators ready, and any debris that could fly was cleared out as well.
A storm that felt different
The storm did feel a little different from the beginning. It was supposed to hit us in the middle of the night with the closest contact to the eye of the storm. At around 11 AM, Wainiha Valley, which is a few valleys over from Hanalei, flash flooded. Many of our dear friends lost their belongings in their homes, and some barely escaped the rising waters.
I had brought my 83-year-old mother up from the east side of the island to stay with us, thinking it was a safe place. Well, the truth is, if you’re with my husband in any natural disaster… that is the safest place. Wild thing is that her house barely saw any damage at all after this sucker passed by.
We had our dogs and kids and everyone at our house, and by 4 PM, even though trees were being uprooted and tipped over in our yard, we were still enjoying Mother Nature at her finest. Enamored by how mighty she was even though we knew she hadn’t even gotten close yet.
The longest night
Once it got dark and closer to 9 PM, things started to really take a turn. The wind picked up from a whistle and howl to a roar when the gusts would come in. We ended up opening all of our windows because we knew that if one of these big gusts came, it could take our roof easily. So in our house it was raining sideways and windy, and somehow leaves were getting through the screens… it was that kind of wind.
The other concern was the river. Because the tide was low, we were pretty sure we were gonna be OK, but we still had to constantly check, as my mother was sleeping down below in the bunker-type downstairs.
By 11 PM, though, things were just radical. We were all huddled in the hallway, dogs right next to me nestled in, looking at me for assurance. Our littlest, Shyne, was in a ball with my arm around him, and our 15-year-old daughter, True, was also terrified. You could hear the gusts coming from miles away, first sounding like a wolf growling, and then as they got closer, they resembled a freight train.
At one point, my husband was holding up the wall of our master bedroom. The gusts would come and completely shake the wall and flex it inward. I could hear all of the shingles flying off of our roof like machine gun bullets.
It ended up being so crazy upstairs that we took the chance to be downstairs, even though it could possibly flood. We all huddled up downstairs with our flashlights. At this point, the ceiling was leaking, and I honestly thought the roof had been ripped off. I said many, many, MANY prayers until I slightly dozed off for what felt like maybe an hour.
Around 2:45 AM, I was woken up by that same wolf-growling sound. This one had a different deep rumble, and as it got closer, I knew it was potentially the biggest one we’d heard yet. I called out to my husband as it got closer and closer, and we just held onto our animals and kids as tight as we could while it shook the house like it was nothing more than a tin can.
Morning
Aamion and I were up just a few hours later to witness one of the most beautiful sunrises we’ve ever seen. Our yard was completely filled with every shingle from our roof, every tree limb in our yard, and lots of debris from possibly our neighbors as well.
We explored to find that the prep work he had done had saved a lot of our business structures. Roofs peeled up, but weren’t torn off. Our 75-foot mango tree fell, but fell perfectly. If it would’ve gone even 3 feet to the right, it would’ve taken out our two boats, our shave ice trailer, and two Matson containers filled with product. If it would’ve fallen just 3 feet the other way, it would’ve crushed my husband’s truck and a big portion of our workshop that we call the Sugar Shack.
We walked around also in tears to see how we were spared over and over from complete destruction. Our homemade (beyond heavy) picnic tables flipped like they were toothpicks, but missed some of our structures by inches. It was wild to see.
As the day went on, we came to find out that the satellite weather radar system for Kaua’i was reported not working around 4 PM the previous day. My husband was sure that there were gusts over 140 mph, and later we found out that there were four or five different tornadoes that came through the valleys on the North Shore. Ours included.
I’ve honestly never had that type of fear shake me to the core for so many hours as I did that night. It was in those moments that I realized how small I am but also how strong I really am.
“It was in those moments that I realized how small I am but also how strong I really am.”
Daize
What came after
But I think what surprised me the most was what happened after the storm.
Our people started showing up to check in on the compound. Our team came not expecting one thing, but to give their time, energy and skills to make these businesses—which have also given them a life here on Kaua’i—back to normal.
Our crew started cooking every day so our employees and anyone who needed it could come eat for free. We made coffee and croissants without electricity and served whoever came through the doors. We sat around together for hours and talked to each other. In the middle of all the destruction, there was a new, deeper connection.
And that has probably been the most beautiful part of all of this.
We spend so much of our lives building businesses, our plans, our homes and our dreams. And then Mother Nature comes through in one night and reminds you how little control we actually have.
But she also reminds us of what can come out of the ashes. The important life stuff. Giving, community, kindness, perseverance and strength.
In the pause
Almost a month later and we’re still rebuilding. Some of the compound still has no electricity. Our whole team of 60 people is still laid off, but the unity is palpable.
But maybe that’s the whole thing.
Sometimes slowing yourself down isn’t a choice. Sometimes life does it for you.
And sometimes in the pause, even when it comes in a way you never would’ve chosen, you get to see what really matters.
