Surviving the Storm
Reflections on Hurricane Milton and Superstorm Sandy
With Hurricane Milton passing by Wednesday night, I found myself reflecting on some non-expert, "please-don't-make-life-decisions-based-on-this" observations. Living through this recent storm brought back memories of another experience: Superstorm Sandy, back in late October 2012. At the time, I was about 40 miles inland, living in New Jersey, and though over a decade has passed, some of the key details still linger in my mind, while others have faded into a blur.
Back then, evacuation wasn’t even on the table. Instead, it was about preparing as best as possible for the high winds that were forecasted. There was no doubt in my mind, or anyone else’s, that this storm was going to be massive as it crept closer. I can’t recall the exact data sources I relied on 12 years ago, but there wasn’t much debate. No differing models or conflicting wind-speed predictions. This storm was going to hit, and it was going to hit hard.
Even 40 miles inland, the winds grew fierce enough that I had to retreat to the basement for safety. The power didn’t last long, and at that time, I didn’t have a generator. So, in the dead of night, in complete darkness, I would periodically go upstairs to check on the house. On one of those trips, I looked out the front window and saw flames. It looked like the house next door was on fire.
With cell service still intact, emergency services were immediately called. Later, I found out that the flames weren’t from the house next door but from a detached garage across the street from the cul-de-sac my house was in. My sense of distance and perception of magnitude had completely failed me in the pitch black, with wind and rain beating down on the windows. It’s a realization that sticks with me to this day. The neighbor who owned that garage lost a small car collection, but fortunately, no one was hurt, and their house remained untouched.
The Morning After: A Devastated Landscape
Stepping outside the next morning felt like walking into a war zone. A tree had narrowly missed the house, and while there was some minor roof damage, the house escaped relatively unscathed. It wasn’t until I walked about 20 minutes to a friend’s house that the true scale of the damage became clear. Trees and telephone poles were down everywhere. I can’t quite remember why I walked instead of driving—perhaps it was instinct—but if I had attempted to drive, I know I would’ve made it far.
That devastation meant without power for 13 long days. Having city water helped, as opposed to relying on a well, and natural gas meant one could cook up what was in the fridge and freezer—a silver lining in the form of an impromptu feast for a few days. Generators were impossible to find. Eventually, I managed to borrow one, just in time to warm up the house as cold weather began to roll in. Gasoline, however, was just as scarce, and many people were driving out to Pennsylvania to refuel and return.
One unexpected challenge was losing cell service completely. After a few days, even cell reception vanished. Unless you managed to find power and Wi-Fi, you were cut off from the world. For some, being disconnected might seem like a welcome break, but when you’re trying to piece life back together after a natural disaster, it’s just one more stressor in an already overwhelming situation.
Even though I was lucky in so many ways, living through Sandy was an unforgettable experience. It was a time to learn lessons for the future and a reminder to be grateful for what remained intact. Storms like Sandy—and more recently, Milton—serve as powerful reminders of nature’s unpredictability and our vulnerability in the face of it.
Florida Storm Life: Adapting to a New Normal
After recently moving to Florida, hurricanes became a far more prominent consideration than they ever were in New Jersey. It’s part of life down here, and one of the key reasons I chose to live in central Florida rather than on the coast. I figured that being further inland might offer some protection. However, I didn’t expect to encounter three different storms in 2024 alone! The first two were relatively uneventful for central Florida, but then came Milton—its eye passing directly nearby as it crossed from the Gulf to the Atlantic.
So, how did my perspective shift after living through Superstorm Sandy over a decade ago in a different state? First, the storms here felt more predictable. Maybe it’s just better forecasting technology, or maybe I was more tuned in this time around. Either way, there was a longer lead time to prepare—at least from what I remember. Sure, not all the details were crystal clear, and conditions could change, but overall, I had a pretty good idea of what was coming.
Back in New Jersey, I didn’t give much thought to storm surge since I was 40 miles from the coast. Now, being three times further inland from Florida’s west coast, I still didn’t worry about it in reference to my home, but I felt more aware of the impact it could have on coastal areas. Maybe it was because I had recently been through Helene, or maybe it’s just the fact that I’m living in Florida now and storm surge is always a looming threat that somehow seems closer with no mountainous hills in between. Either way, Milton was heading right for my area, but I couldn’t help but think about those on the coast who would be hit harder. It’s strange, but somehow knowing that others would face worse conditions gave me a sense of resilience—if they could make it through, so could I.
One relief was not being in an evacuation zone. As much as I didn’t mind staying put during Milton, I have to admit, if someone told me I had to leave, I would have listened. I can’t even imagine the stress of having to make that decision—to stay or to go. Staying is stressful, of course, but the stakes of staying put versus evacuating are entirely different. Each carries its own risks and consequences.
When you do stay, though, your mind becomes laser-focused on tracking the storm. Even though you can’t change a thing about its path or intensity, understanding the storm’s timeline becomes an all-encompassing mental exercise. And here’s something I’ve learned: almost every source of data is flawed. That doesn’t mean you should ignore expert advice, but it does mean you need to take everything with a grain of salt. Online forums, for example, range from "don’t worry, it’s nothing" to "this will be a catastrophe." People post based on their unique experiences—maybe they live in flood-prone areas, maybe they’ve dealt with frequent power outages in the past, or maybe they just like dramatic headlines. The trick is to filter out the noise and find the rational voices. There’s usually at least one!
Even "official" sources can be confusing. At one point, I received an emergency alert saying, “Seminole County issued an evacuation order for Hurricane Milton.” About 20 minutes later, the alert was updated to say, “Evacuation order for mobile homes, flood-prone areas, and individuals with special needs.” That made much more sense. Then there’s Josh Morgerman, a storm chaser I follow on X (formerly Twitter). I can’t recall when I started following him, but having his on-the-ground reports from the places I was thankful not to be during Milton was both informative and nerve-wracking.
One of the most frustrating aspects of trying to stay informed during a storm is how unreliable predictive radar can be. I checked it constantly, but the predictions only really made sense as the storm was ending. For most of the time, I found present conditions far more useful for understanding what was happening. The NOAA site is great, but their probability maps are surprisingly hard to read, even for someone like me with a technical background. Other tracking sites offer more user-friendly interfaces, but honestly, my best advice is to find several that work for you and that provide real-time feedback. Use that feedback to average their results out into something that is more meaningful and accurate.
As in New Jersey, my biggest concern during Milton—aside from the wind and rain—was the trees. You never know if one is going to come down until it’s too late. Once the winds start picking up, it’s crucial to find a safe spot away from windows and, more importantly, from any potential tree damage. Also, after witnessing Helene’s impact on North Carolina, I had a newfound appreciation for Florida’s flat landscape. Common sense tells me (though I’m not certain it’s true) that storms might have a clearer path to travel further inland here. However, flat terrain, especially in non-desert areas, also means there’s less chance for flash flooding compared to New Jersey, where even non-hurricane storms could lead to flooding on a regular basis.
Lessons in Preparation
I won’t dive into the specifics of hurricane preparation—there are countless lists out there created by people far more experienced than I am. But here are a few less conventional tips you might not find on those standard checklists.
First, if a storm is coming, get gas sooner rather than later. This is especially true if you have a gas-powered generator. “Sooner” means as soon as you hear even a whisper of a potential threat. If it actually becomes a full-blown threat, it might already be too late. Keep your tank full. Gas stations run dry almost immediately, and you don’t want to be stuck without fuel. If the storm passes, and you don’t end up needing the gas for your generator, just use it in your car.
Second, even if you have a generator, consider getting a UPS (Uninterruptible Power Supply) for your router and modem—or any other critical devices you want to keep running during power fluctuations. Hurricanes are notorious for causing power flickers, even if the power doesn’t go out completely. A UPS will keep those crucial devices from rebooting constantly, and it’ll help protect their longevity.
Big battery packs are a must. Something like the Anker Prime 27,650mAh Power Bank (250W) can charge your phone several times over if you lose power for days. If you have cordless tools like the DeWalt 20V system, consider buying a light that connects to those batteries. These lights are adjustable and can provide hours of illumination at a reasonable level—perfect for lighting a room during an outage.
Lastly, download entertainment onto your devices in advance. If the power or internet goes out, being able to watch downloaded shows or movies can be a welcome distraction while waiting for the storm to pass.
Above all, stay safe. Wind gusts are unpredictable, and they don’t need much time to drastically change your life. Don’t give them that chance.
One thing that caught me off guard during Milton were the numerous reports of tornadoes spawned by the storm. While I knew storms could trigger tornadoes, what I didn’t expect was to see these happening on the east coast of Florida before the hurricane even made landfall on the west coast. It just goes to show that common sense isn’t always enough to navigate the complexities of these outlier storms.
I’m no meteorologist, but this experience reinforced a valuable lesson: never assume you know more than the experts. Even if predictions seem off or certain details don’t line up, trust the professionals who do this for a living. As Josh Morgerman wisely says:
“To make life-and-death decisions, refer to: 1) @NHC_Atlantic, 2) your local @NWS office, 3) local officials, & 4) trusted local TV/radio meteorologists. Also: I am a storm chaser. My goals & risk tolerance are not yours. Don’t do what I do.”
An Unconventional Perspective
Now, this is called Seed Scapes for a reason. If any of the observations above offered a fresh perspective, great. If not, maybe this one will resonate as much as it did with me. Palmer Luckey recently posted something on X that caught my attention:
"Hurricane Milton wasn’t created by space lasers, but it was definitely made stronger by new regulations on shipping fuel composition that massively reduce cloud albedo. Nobody is talking about this."
His statement pointed to the fact that fuel composition regulations, which reduce the amount of sulfur in shipping fuels, could be affecting the atmosphere in ways we don’t fully understand. Reduced cloud albedo—the ability of clouds to reflect sunlight—can contribute to warming effects, intensifying storms like Milton. In fact, the warming effect from this change is consistent with the unusually strong warming observed in 2023, and it’s expected to make the 2020s anomalously warm. According to a recent study, the impact is equivalent to 80% of the measured increase in planetary heat uptake since 2020.
It’s a reminder that there’s always more to these events than meets the eye, and we can’t afford to ignore the larger forces at play.
