Tsunami and Island Time

I believe I mentioned this around the time of the potential hurricane Felicia here and here, but if not, I'm going to talk about it now, since I've got nothing else to do.

If you're not familiar with the idea of "Island Time," it's basically the idea that things move slower here.  There's less of a rush or pressing feeling to get things done.  Typically, it's one of those expression that's regarded with a sense of pride by some, and with a certain amount of disdain by others.  Personally, I don't really fall on either side, as I usually don't care, and just do my own thing, but today I was talking with Kaleo, and realize that unlike Colorado, even the weather and natural events seem to be a big fan of Island Time.

In Colorado, most major (read: devastating) natural events occur with little or no warning: tornadoes, avalanches, flash floods, etc.  Here though, apart from the threat of earthquake, all major events have this incredible waiting period beforehand.  We've had five hours of warning time for this tsunami (two hours to go, btw) and as I'm not in the evacuation zone, all I can do is sit here and wait for it.  Same thing with the hurricane; a lot of anticipation and worry leading up to the event.  Even in the case of typical (in the current estimated location) of a volcanic eruption, there'd be some amount of time (as little as half an hour in some cases, but still, that's some time) before the floe made it to any highly populated area.

So now I'm just waiting, listening to the sirens every hour, knowing that I can do nothing from here (or from anywhere, I suppose) to prevent this, protect anyone, or even get anywhere that allows me a good vantage point.

Where I'm at is about 4½ miles from the shore, and I'm up above 1600 feet.  From the yurt I can see the airport, and the Keaukaha coastline, as well as the south side of the bay.  I cannot see the sea wall, or any of bayfront or downtown, which are the areas that are at the highest risk.  I've cleaned off the memory card on my camera, and I'll try and take some photos from here to see how they turn out, and of course once it all slows down, I'm hoping to drive down the road as close as I can get, and then walk into town tonight to see the results firsthand.

But plans being what they are, it still leaves me with a sense of helplessness and uselessness right now.  Talking with Kaleo, we were discussion the strange concoction of feelings that come with this event.  On one hand, I'm certainly worried, especially for friends and family in town and on other islands, and we're hoping that this, like Hurricane Felicia, turns out to be a great display of precautionary measures that end up not being required.  On the other hand, this is really a once in a lifetime experience to witness an amazing display of natural power, so there is a feeling of excitement as well, which carries with it an amount of guilt for secretly hoping to see something amazing while knowing that if I did, other people will certainly be in danger.  All of this mixed with the very scene of normalcy here in the neighborhood makes for an edge of surreality, since the birds are all singing, the sun is up and it's a beautiful day, and the only thing that makes this Saturday morning atypical is the occasional neighbor walking up the road making sure that everyone has heard that there's a 15' tidal wave travelling at up to 400 miles per hour headed for town as we speak.

Very odd indeed.

And now, back to the waiting.