The storm’s future course was unclear as it first intensified in the Gulf of Mexico. However, it was obvious that it may do damage. The ingredients for a possibly historic tempest were warm water and dense, humid air. The governor of Louisiana issued a state of emergency on Thursday, August 26, 2021, just hours after the system was designated as a tropical depression. Residents near the state’s coastline were instructed to make preparations for a big hurricane.
Levees, earthen walls designed to prevent hurricane-driven waves from reaching the state’s larger towns and villages, safeguard Louisiana along its coastline. Floodgates close to prevent local bayous from overflowing during a storm. The DeFelice Marine Center, however, must be outside of this system of fortifications.
One of the top marine labs in the state, the structure is a 7,000 square-meter concrete fortress rising amid marshland in Louisiana. It is home to $7 million worth of equipment and other resources. 60 staff members support the center’s eight faculty scientists as they study the biology, ecology, chemistry, and geology of the state’s coastal environment. The structure is situated on a sliver of land that juts out into Terrebonne Bay just north of Cocodrie, a community of weekend visitors and shrimpers near the mouth of Bayou Petit Caillou.
The storm danger had already started a well-oiled chain reaction of preparations at the maritime center before the governor issued a state of emergency. Staff moved boats, forklifts, and tractors to Houma, a city located fewer than 50 kilometers to the north on slightly higher ground. To prevent the ground-floor doors of the marine center from being torn off their hinges by the force of the incoming waves, workers threw sandbags at the bases of the doors.
They secured the 50,000-liter tanks housed beneath the structure and filled with ocean water for research. The building’s new storm shutters weren’t ready, so contractors covered the exposed windows with wood panels. The most expensive tools were moved to the center of the building, away from the windows, by the scientists. These tools included flowmeters, laboratory computers, and portable analyzers used to measure gas fluxes in wetlands. Then, to further guard against roof leaks, they covered everything with thick plastic sheets.
By early Friday afternoon—two days before the storm, now named Ida, was projected to make landfall—the few remaining employees headed to their homes. Some hunkered down, unwilling to leave the coast; others packed their bags and joined the caravan of cars plugging up Louisiana’s highways, seeking motel rooms and guest bedrooms farther from the storm.
Typically, wherever the scientists are sheltered, they can take measures of conditions in Cocodrie by tuning into the marine center’s weather cameras. But at 2:00 pm on Sunday, August 29, just as the storm made landfall, the marine center’s power failed. The cameras went dark. A nervous day passed before anyone could make it south to assess the damage. Everyone knew it would be grim: Ida had made landfall as a Category 4 hurricane, which, per official definition, is capable of catastrophic injury. (Were the wind just a handful of kilometers faster, the storm would have become a “Cat 5,” the highest possible classification.)
More news at AFKFree Media.
