Cyclone

Cyclone Wilma from a seat on my porch

      Our first warning of the cyclone came late in the day last Wednesday.  They said it would hit Friday.  I thought these things got far more warning than that?  Not here.  It was called P08 until Friday when it got the name Wilma.  We all left work a bit early Friday to get home; since I had nothing to do to prep for it, I was OK.  In fact, it didn't hit until Saturday evening, having taken a detour north, then south again, so it came down from the north side.  Small difference, since the cyclone was preceded by almost continuous rain Friday into Saturday when it did hit around dinnertime.  It was a Category 1 maximum, winds 50 - 75 mph they say.  My home is somewhat sheltered, it's low, there are homes around it, and so didn't get any damage.  Here's a video of the cyclone, taken from my porch:

The power went out early Saturday evening, about 8 pm.  It remained out until Sunday afternoon.  What to do when there is no light, no electricity, and it's windy and rainy everywhere?  Go to bed!  I slept through a lot of it, though hardly very deep, a lot of drowsing.  There isn't thunder or lightning, at least not here on this occasion, just rain and wind.  The wind was loud enough.

     Since my porch wraps around the house, I was able to sit outside and read (when I had light enough) and simply observe.  I did go down to the shore and take some videos of the water.  Here is one, shortly before the cyclone hit.  The water is quite low, noticeably lower than normal low tide.  I'd guess that the low pressure right under the cyclone drew the water up there, instead of leaving it here:

     Sunday morning there was a pause, no wind, rain ceased.  It wasn't the eye exactly, since it wasn't sunny up above, but probably something like that.  I went to the shore and took another video; here the water is higher than usual high tide and the blowholes were active; so I guess we were in the eye or quite close to it:

Here are two shorts of the blowholes, combined into  one:

     Then, after an hour or so, the wind whipped up from the exact other direction, and stayed there several hours more.  Here's a video of that; you may notice the trees blowing the other way:

I did also take a few stills, next day, though they don't show things too well:

Downed breadfruit tree

Super low tide, near my home in Leone, just before cyclone hit.

Downed row of banana plants near my home

     Somehow in mid-afternoon the electricity came on and I was able to see (it was quite dark even in daytime; reading was tough unless I sat outside, which I could do on the other side of the porch).  I did Skype home to Cyndi and also Lisa.  Things were looking up! There was even a decent sunset through the clouds, and the rain stopped in the evening.  Here it is:

Cyclone sunset

     Alas, false hope.  It rained most of the night, hard, really hard.  The field outside my home was flooded, with water everywhere.  This is Monday morning, after more than 2 days of cyclone and rain:

Soggy front yard.  Everything is soaked!

     Being sick of looking at the same 4 walls, and it being Monday, I drove to work through the rain.  Bad idea.  Court was canceled (but not until I had arrived).  Worse, my car died right in the middle of the road behind the EOB.  Dead.  Nothing worked.  I had driven through umpteen huge puddles on the way, and seem to have thoroughly soaked the Batmobile's engine.  Worser, as soon as it died, the skies REALLY opened up.  It poured, and poured, and there I was stuck out in the road, blocking traffic.  Via cell phone I called the office and in a few minutes two angels appeared through the misty torrents.  They turned out to be Kelly and Steph, who helped me push my car under a tree out of the road where I left it (Worst - it is there now) so I could run up to the office.  Here's me, in the office, photo courtesy of Steph:

Ready for Court?  Not night out the window - just dark at 9:00 a.m.

Ever see a more pitiful, bedraggled specimen?  Of course, it was then that court got canceled and everyone ordered home.  It was still pouring rain.  I've never seen such rain, how can that much water float in the air above our heads?  It defies logic.  My colleagues drove me home; here are a few photos from along the way:

Debris, front of EOB where I work

Government building near EOB, totaled

Flooded road, jail (TCF) on left, road goes to juvenile jail

Water streams running past bus stop

Sheets of water running down entry to shopping center

     Per the news, there are trees down everywhere, no deaths thank goodness, Starkist closed when a building blew down, and the (unused now) cable up to Mt. Alava broke.  It fell into the harbor, on top of a ferry boat.  It sits on the main highway, and cars have to drive over it.  I heard too that it landed on another Starkist Building and damaged that too.  I wonder what they will do about that?  Poor Charlie, never gets respect.

     We are now under a "monsoon warning" whatever that means.  It's still raining, my car is kaput, and I'm still looking at my same 4 walls.  It must be 99.9% humidity - the air is the same temperature as the ocean (about 80), so if the humidity were .1% more we may as well be in the ocean.  What is this paradise thing I've heard talk about?  I've never felt so completely, totally inundated, soaking wet soggy ever or anywhere.

UPDATE Tuesday 1/25/11:  It stopped raining long enough today for a orange-y brightish spot to appear behind some thin clouds.  Hope!  But no, Tuesday night it's raining again, hard as ever.  But my car is alive again.  For now. Everything, absolutely everything is saturated and then some. Another couple days like this and I may as well be Charlie the Tuna.  Feels like I'm growing fins.

Tsunami

     The earthquake hit on September 29, 2009, just over a year ago. It ran to 8.3 Richter scale, just 120 miles across the ocean from American Samoa. No time for warnings.  Most people were just awakening. They had no warning, and little time. The tsunami came as suddenly as it was unanticipated. Funny and true story - the wave hit the local radio station as it was broadcasting the message "There is no tsunami" - shouts, then radio silence.  It slammed ashore around 7:00 a.m. as children were going to school, parents to work. Small to medium size villages line the coast here, usually set in coves and small bays. These are beautiful, but they also magnify the force of the waves as they rush in toward shore. The water was unstoppable. Villages up and down the coast were devastated. Among the worst places to be were my village, Leone - it is on a larger than usual bay – and Pago Pago, at the narrow end of the superb Pago Pago Harbor. But some small villages were virtually wiped out.

     Everyone here remembers just where they were, and what they did, when the tsunami came ashore. Ruth, my Chief PD, thought first of the family, and that included Steph and the other American lawyers here at the time. She called to warn, and went to get them. Her husband Junior operates heavy equipment for his living.  He rushed to get a loader, drove it to Leone, and started to search for the injured and help the survivors. No one knew if another wave was coming in. There were three or four in all; but he didn't give a thought to that. Junior helped some people, and found some who were beyond help.  He doesn't talk about that now.  But the first thing he told us newcomers was to have a plan, know where to go, immediately if a warning sounded.   He made sure we knew what to do if ever it happens again. Tua, one of our investigators, had two young children on a school bus at the time.   It was driving along the oceanfront, the beautiful drive I commute upon and wrote about. The driver saved his kids; as soon as he saw the water go down and way out, he knew what would come.  He turned the bus into a small village, and drove it as high up the mountain as it could go, road be damned. All his charges were safe, but by only a small margin. Stories like these are told by everyone here.

     American Samoa lost 34 people known dead; likely several more as well who were undocumented, carried out to sea. Western Samoa, mainly Upolu, was hit as bad and lost over 100 people. Other islands in this corner of the Pacific also were struck.

     I don't have “before” photos; imagination will have to suffice. Here are some pictures of Leone and its vicinity now. The damage is obvious and continuing:

Shore, damaged houses, Leone bay

Remains of home on shoreline, Leone.

Leone scene, ominous cross.

Leone, damaged family fale

Bridge in Leone, washed out completely, now somewhat rebuilt.

I found some videos of the immediate aftermath on YouTube. Here are some links. Note that the bridge washed out in Leone is in one of my photos; it was still temporary when I arrived, and just got somewhat fixed last week; still not a permanent fix. Also the post office, and some of the concrete pads where houses used to be are shown in the videos:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Co_o1-FSirs&feature=related

Leone longer video, mainly interviews:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RbMW7hvn62k&feature=related

     I have a couple photos of small villages west of Leone.  A small village named Poloa is on the northern shore, past Leone. It was wiped out, as seen in the YouTube video link below. My photos are of buildings up the hill, probably 15 feet above the sea level, also heavily damaged:

Poloa home - remnants, anyway

Another devastated Poloa home.

Here's the YouTube link for a Poloa video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Juv_DLfeip8&feature=related

      Another village is Amaluia.  That's where the FEMA tent in the photo below stands, a family lives there still.  The picture of the roadway looks benign, except that the tsunami washed up over it (and up to the roof level of the homes nearby) thus making the tent indispensable.  The rusted remains of a car still lie along the shore of this little bay:

FEMA tent home in Amaluia.  And free-range chickens!

Main roadway near Amaluia, see washed out guardrail, & concrete dividers.

Along the Amaluia beach

Main area of A'uma

    Here are photos of Pago Pago. This village, at the end of the harbor, has a rather large, flat area just above the water line. It had been filled with buildings. Now little is left, and that part will not be rebuilt anytime soon:

Damaged home & foundation, Pago Pago

All that's left, near the waterline.

View toward Pago Pago, dock ruined, tent in use still.

Once elegant house, Pago Pago

Restaurant, near harbor, rotting away - Pago Pago

 I have a couple YouTube videos of Pago Pago as well, not too good quality but they will give an idea. One is an FBI surveillance camera outside their offices, you can see the wave wash in:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jkTXgAKHOE0&feature=channel

Another shows the second wave coming in, see all the cars, boats, refrigerators, and assorted things just pushed along:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v0mTnu9ibFk

     Many businesses and government agencies were heavily damaged. The big National Park Visitor Center, new and modern, was in Pago Pago. It's empty and unusable now. The old, elegant, wooden High Court building in Fagatogo (near Pago Pago) was completely flooded. It is now empty and just rotting. The court moved to “temporary” quarters down the street. “Temporary” is a euphemism, there isn't money to either fix the old building (probably impossible anyway) or build a new one. Here's the old High Court; the District Court next door survived somehow (likely because it is of concrete construction) and remains in use:

Historic High Court, flooded

      A small story about the court is interesting. The law clerks tell about when they arrived (after the tsunami) they occasionally had need of older court files for research, records, etc. They would ask for them and often get the reply, “No, you can't, that file is frozen.” A curious response since court files are customarily open to all. Just another Samoan anomaly? Turns out, no, the files are really frozen. Many were in the basement of the High Court building and were soaked by tsunami water when it flooded the building. Papers in quantity just cannot be dried out, and here in the humid tropics, they would rot in no time at all unless dried immediately. So, they were frozen in refrigerated shipping containers. Here they are, three of them, sitting in the parking lot right outside the old High Court building:

Talk about cold cases - frozen files, High Court

They have been there over a year. No one seems to know how to thaw them in any useful way, so here they sit until something is figured out. This of course costs a lot of money (electricity here is over 5 times as expensive as in Minnesota) and they are guarded at night – more expense. Some kinds of cases, primarily land ownership disputes, require these files for history and background. A major problem. So a frozen file isn't hidden, it is literally frozen.

     I've mentioned before the Rainmaker Hotel and the cable up to Mt. Alava. To recap, back in the 70's it was thought that a new hotel would attract tourists and help the economy. So the Rainmaker Hotel was built on a point of land right in Pago Pago Harbor. A beautiful setting.  And the cable was built up to Mt. Alava, partly to get equipment up there for the TV tower, partly for tourists. But due to lack of tourists and some mismanagement, the cable car didn't succeed as planned and the Hotel slowly deteriorated and closed. A Frommer guide from 2003 lists it still open, but recommended staying elsewhere.  So here it sits, on a prime piece of property, falling apart. Some photos:

Old Rainmaker Hotel on point; canneries on far shore.

Drive up to old hotel lobby, strewn with junk now.

The old Rainmaker Hotel, closeup

Same, from street.  Rainmaker (Mt. Pioa) rises above all in background.

 In 1980 there was an air show here on the local Independence Day (April 18).  It included a demonstration by the Navy parachute team. The plane dropped the parachutists over the harbor, then apparently forgot about the cable and hit it. The plane dropped onto the Rainmaker Hotel, which didn't help its reputation at all. Seven people were killed. A bad omen for an ill-fated venture. It struggled on for a number of years before the end a few years ago.

     As a last note, after the tsunami a lot of aid came pouring in. Workers arrived to help clean up; in fact, my house was used by Jehovah's Witness aid workers who left shortly before my arrival. Newspaper stories occasionally tell of the relief money, gobs of it, disappearing. As have replacement refrigerators, stoves, and other items. Investigations start, stories trickle to a halt, then silence.  Money dedicated to rebuilding local water lines (many of which were quite substandard before) met the same fate. Some villages seem to have tapped into the main line illegally and get free water. No one seems to know how these things happen. Pretty much everyone expects that these things will continue indefinitely. Welcome to paradise – Motu O Fiafiaga!

Around Pago Pago Harbor

    When on occasion people back home think of American Samoa, the exotically named Pago Pago (pronounced here as Pango Pango) comes to mind.  The harbor is named Pago Pago, as is the airport.  But in reality, neither applies well at all.  Pago Pago is a medium sized village, situated right at the very end of Pago Pago Harbor.  It is neither the capital nor does it house anything significant in the way of government or culture.  It is simply one of a few hundred small villages scattered across this island called Tutuila.  The airport is several miles away, again with no particular reason to be called Pago Pago.  The harbor itself has many villages up and down either side.  Pago Pago represents an historical anomaly.

Pago Pago, at apex of harbor

     Pago Pago Harbor is, in fact, an extinct volcano.  Sometime in the distant past it erupted, blew a big hole in the island, and then drifted with the island away from the "hot spot" under the tectonic plate.  It is completely extinct.  Millenia of erosion, rains, and waves have left it in the shape it is now.  And that is spectacular viewing - mountains which rise almost straight up from the sea, covered with jungle and trees, and beautiful aquamarine water lapping over reefs.  Here's an overview; I climbed Mt. Alava a couple weeks ago and got this photo from the top:

Pago Pago Harbor; looking east, north is to left, Utulei & Fagatogo to right.

Here's also a sign compliments of the National Park Service, explaining what you see:

Click to enlarge and read.

     Lets go on a tour, starting with the southern coast.  The approach is my commute; here are the Brothers, or Flowerpots, which mark the southern entrance to the harbor itself:

Brothers, Faga'alu to right

Big brother, looking toward harbor

 The road winds right along the coast, around a bay with a village called Faga'alu.  The only hospital on island - LBJ Medical Center - is back behind this village.  The word here is, "don't get sick." 

Across the harbor from Faga'alu

Looking into the harbor from Faga'alu

Wider view from Faga'alu; that's an elementary school across water

Then you come around that point just past the school, and really get into the harbor.  Here's the view from the point you see just above, called Blunt's Point:

Across harbor mouth

Above here on the hill over Blunt's Point is the remains of a gun battery put here by the Navy a long time ago, set to blast out of the water any invading ships.  Never fired in anger; the Japanese in WW2 never came here.  A similar battery is up on a cliff across the harbor, north side, shown in the photo, called Breaker's Point. You can hike up to them.  I did.  The guns are still there, rusting away; here's a couple photos and a video of the views:

Inner Pago Pago Harbor; Canneries & Mt. Alava.

Middle Pago Pago Harbor, to Mt. Pioa (Rainmaker).

Outer harbor; the Flowerpot; Faga'alu.

Here's the video, panning from the inner harbor, then across, past the gun battery, then to the outer harbor and the Flowerpots near Faga'alu:

     As a bit of history, Tutuila became American Samoa as the result of a hurricane.  Back in the 1890's, the Germans, British, and US were all interested in annexing (i.e. conquering and stealing) the Samoan islands.  They sent warships out here, meeting up in Apia harbor on Upolu, Samoa.  Angry words passed, a fight was brewing, and a naval engagement about to commence.  Then came the hurricane; Apia has a pretty lousy harbor, and several ships from each nation sank.  So they called off the fighting, had a council, and agreed to split up the islands.  Germany got Upolu and Savai'i, Britain got Fiji, and we, the good old USA, got Tutuila.  Those other islands were large, had coconut plantations, and so could generate some wealth.  Tonga, also nearby, had nothing of interest to anybody so it was ignored.  Hence the reason why Tonga now remains the only monarchy in the Polynesia, run by a king and dirt poor as well.  It still has nothing of interest to anyone except possibly tourists.  When Germany invaded France in 1914 to start WW1, New Zealand sent a couple destroyers over and kicked the Germans out of their islands.  They now are the independent country of Samoa.  Meanwhile, the USA was happy with Tutuila; it is rocky and mountainous, could not support plantations, but it had Pago Pago Harbor, the best by far in Polynesia.
So American Samoa became Navy property.  They developed a naval base here, which came in downright useful after Pearl Harbor in 1941.  Later, in 1951, the Navy no longer needed this base, so they moved out.  Pago Pago became a commercial harbor and port.

     Outside the harbor area the Navy let the Samoans pretty much alone to do as they pleased all that time.  The Samoans are proud to say that they never were conquered by the US, they willingly associated with us back then.  True, so far as it goes.  There are treaties signed by Samoan chiefs which say so, and which guarantee Samoan customs and traditions shall continue.  But those leaders were not being totally altruistic; likely alternatives included annexation by either Germany, France or Great Britain, and the US was a rather obvious lesser evil.  In any event, Samoans are now proud to be American nationals.  Many of them, in fact, join the military; fighting and dying in all our wars since then.  Most of the political and traditional leaders now are military veterans.  Around 20 - 30 Samoans have been killed in Iraq and Afghanistan after 9-11.  They are honored here, as they deserve.

     Continuing the tour:  here's your next sight - the oil refinery and storage area; trust me, it looks better from a distance than up close.  Smells better from further away as well.  You can also see it in the panorama up above:

Oil storage and refinery.  Can be aromatic.

     Then come the villages of Utulei and Fangatogo.  These have pretty much merged into the main town here; I office in Utulei, drive about a mile into Fangatogo where the courts are located.  Here are a couple photos of these.  Note the port facilities, container depot, and yes Ronald McDonald's establishment:

Sadie's by the Sea, from Utulei beach park

Utulei harborside park, Governor's mansion on hill, Mt. Alava

Container terminal, on/off-loaded to/from freighters

Dockyard, Governor's Mansion atop hill

Fagatogo central area

The Fono - Legislature - in Fagatogo

Houses climbing the hill, above Fagatogo

Mickey D's, Fagatogo

Fishing vessels and barges, tied to dock

Fishnets in dockyard

Tree carving, downtown Fagatogo

      That Governor's Mansion remains very much in use, not only as a residence but for ceremonial functions, visiting dignitaries, and so on.  Back in the Navy days it belonged to the Commandant assigned by the Navy to govern the island.  The road proceeds along into Pago Pago itself, at the end of the harbor, another half mile along.  A few seagoing "yachts" tie up here, past the commercial port.  They are part of a small group of people who live on boats, travel among the islands, and in general do what we only dream of doing:

Seagoing pleasure boats, looking toward Pago Pago village

Yacht deep in Pago Pago harbor

Pago Pago as very hard hit by the tsunami in 2009.  I took some photos of the damage.  Being at the end of a harbor that narrows as it gets here, the tsunami waves were highest and strongest here.  It has a long way to go before recovery.  Those photos will be part of a later post on that tsunami.

     The road now follows around to the north side, going right under Mt Alava and past the tuna canning factories.  Here's a photo of these from across the bay.  You can tell by your olfactory that the canneries are here.  Refer to an earlier post to see Charlie the Tuna; this is his home:

Canneries from across the harbor, under Mt. Alava

Tuna canneries, from Pago Pago; Rainmaker (Mt. Pioa behind)

Junk along shore, altogether too common

The tuna canneries are a story too.  They exist here because there are no import duties to the USA.  They got that, and other tax & exemptions from minimum wage laws, as inducements to operate here after the Navy departed.  It's the only industry around.  Most of the unpleasant jobs at the canneries are held by migrants, in from Tonga, Fiji, Samoa, who will appreciate the low wages which Samoans generally refuse to accept.  One of the canneries recently shut down; the other, Starkist, continues to operate but people are nervous that it too might close up.  These canneries used to generate lots of rather icky pollution in the harbor; but some years ago they were made to dump the worst of it well out to sea.  So now the harbor is, if not perfect, quite a bit better.  People swim and catch fish in here.

     We continue along the north shore, with vistas across and out to sea; small villages such as Aua, Leloaloa, and Onesosopo hug the shore:

Matafou and Utulei village, from Onesosopo

View to harbor entrance, from Aua.

Church in Si'ufaga

Home along north/east shore of harbor; far nicer than most.

     The harbor's end here in marked by a small point, shown in photos above.  The other old gun battery is up the hill.  The road turns north up toward the north/east tip of Tutuila.  This part of American Samoa is not highly populated at all.  They maintain many of the old traditions here.  A couple miles up is Tisa's.  Here's photos at the north end:

Matafou across the harbor, just before road turns north

Looking into harbor to Pago Pago, from same place

  Finally, last but not least, is a video panorama of the harbor.  It starts looking at the north point, then across the harbor opening, pans the south shore, then around back to the northern shore.   The pointy mountain you see just past the Flowerpots is Matafou, tallest on the island.  Mt, Alava is above the cannery area and has the TV tower:

So, now you have seen Pago Pago Harbor, warts and all.  It's even more spectacular in person, photos can't do justice, but it's the best I can do.  Keep checking out my blog for future posts!