I Survived a
3 Day Power Outage
On
a dark, stormy winter midnight in California sierra, I walked outdoors into the
cold with my two Brittanys. The front deck was covered with wet snow; the
towering trees and wires amid me looked surreal and eerie because they were
wilted with white powder. I shoveled the heavy slush off the deck to
make it easier for the morning. At 7:30 a.m. I got out of bed and turned on the
TV switch for CNN—there were no red and amber lights on the cable box. I
flicked on the lamp—it didn’t work. “Power outage,” I mumbled. It was the beginning
of the first day the lights went out at South Lake Tahoe.
Dog Night One
Instead of making a cup of fresh,
brewed java, I resorted to trekking to the back house to borrow instant coffee
from my sibling. A gas stove and heat were a godsend. I got my first news
report from a neighbor walking her new young black dog. “The power will be out
for days,” she shouted. Her words echoed in my mind. I tuned out her warning.
Once back indoors I was thankful for having a land line phone. I called the
police department. They assured me that the power would be restored by
afternoon. A call to the power company dished out an automated message: “downed
wires and trees in power lines.” I hoped for the best, but by dusk I went into
survival mode and prepared for the worst.
First,
I buried my premium perishables—milk, yogurt, cheeses—in the snow. Dried fruit,
nuts, chocolate, and chamomile tea were my new friends. As I munched on the
“granola girl” type foods, I got a move on. I gathered matches, candles,
flashlights, brought in firewood—and fed my cat and two Brittanys, Simon and
Seth. I was clad in a hooded sweatshirt and jeans and felt like a characters in
The Day After Tomorrow doomsday
film. But it was a cozy in the
candlelight sitting by the crackling fire. Then, my mind raced. The filters nor
did the lights work for my fish aquariums; my waterbed was another concern. It
was good for one night—not two. I tried to read by candlelight but the
challenge wasn’t worth the effort. I turned in at 11:00 p.m., and had a two dog
night.
Dog
Night Two
The
next morning, like a Groundhog Day
movie, the same (and more) inconveniences greeted me. The ice dam above the
front door was back. The pricey work for a heating device was useless without
power. The ice mound at the doorstep was accumulating ice again. So, I called
the power company (again). More automated messages. No estimated time for power
restoration.
A
hot shower was on my agenda. I didn’t go to the resort indoor swimming pool
(they did have power but they also had a flood of tourists). Without usage of
my hair dryer, I ended up drying my long locks by the gas furnace. The warmth
of the air reminded me that three comforters on my bed filled with cooling
water weren’t enough. A quick trip to the store (they had power) and another
thick comforter made me and my dogs smile. But news of scattered outages hit
me, like a tornado, hurricane, or quake that hits one house and not another. It
made me frown and think, “Why me?”
I
felt isolated and cut off from politics, entertainment, world events, and
weather reports. So, I called my geologist friend Jim Berkland in Glen Ellen,
CA, for his forecast. He predicted a three day outage. At 8:00 p.m.,
electricity was restored. But, the scientist was partially spot-on. The cable
company (my lifeline to the world via Internet and TV), was down. I felt
disconnected and
connected with my companion animals. I talked to both my cat and dogs to feel
calmer.
In
the morning, like a hungry raccoon I dug up my edible goods—but they were no
edible. Each item was too frozen or off in texture. I abided by the saying,
“When in doubt, throw out.” Sadly, I lost 150 dollars of fresh food. In
retrospect, the good things, such as gas heat for warmth and phone, were good.
I endured withdrawal without my computer, Lifetime
movies, the USGS and NOAA web site. My lifeline to technology was restored
and resetting. I read in our local paper that 10,000 residents on the south shore
of Lake Tahoe were affected by the blackout.
(Reprinted
with permission from Oracle 20/20 Magazine,
February 2011 issue.)
