Posts Tagged ‘disasters’

Letter to the editor

by on Wednesday, April 12th, 2017

Madam Editor,

Recently I took a day trip to New Toulouse Bayou, for reasons of Sightseeing and certainly having nothing to do with illicit hooch distilleries, and I was shocked to discover the presence of an Alien Invasion right here in our own Parish.

These invaders are as beautiful as they are dangerous. I am speaking, of course, of Eichhornia crassipes, the water hyacinth.

A single plant can produce five thousand seeds and cover an acre in one growing season. A woman brought one home to Florida from the World’s Industrial and Cotton Centennial Exposition of 1884, and when it overran her fishpond, she put the extra hyacinths at her boat landing. Would you like to know how many miles of the river soon became impossible to navigate by steamboat? Two hundred miles, that’s how many.

If these prolific plants were to spread from Bayou to the Missedabracket River, that great muddy road of Commerce, our entire Parish would suffer. I have heard that a local grocery handed out free water hyacinths as a promotion. We need a concerted effort to eradicate this picturesque menace, not to encourage it in the name of selling more washing-powder.

Scientifically yours,
B. Robicheaux

Known emergency services

by on Saturday, July 26th, 2014

FOOD AND SHELTER

• Food and beds at the Krewe of Bast emergency shelter, top floor of Spiegel Hall
Harley’s Hotel, always welcoming
• The third floor of Our Lady of Mercy Hospital has food and beds
House of the Spirits has several cots available
• The No. 23 Firehouse has some cots upstairs
• Rest and listen to radio theater at Liza Veliz’s cafe (climb the rope to get up)
• Medicinal substances upstairs at the Green-Eyed Fairy
The Still House is still, amazingly, serving up daily specials
• Sleep at the Tattler office, if worse comes to worst

ROWBOATS AVAILABLE

Customhouse (NE city)
• What was once a SE city dock
City side of the cross-channel ferry route (NW city, behind the Green-Eyed Fairy—follow the beacon)
Bayou train depot (SW bayou)
Atelier Vert (NE bayou)

Letter to the editor

by on Saturday, July 26th, 2014

It is my first hurricane season in New Toulouse, so I was unsure what to expect. I listened to the stories of past storms from high-water veterans while acquainting myself with the provisions of different emergency shelters in the area. I read the Tattler and community announcements for warnings and information and prepared as best I could. Nothing, however, could prepare me for the disastrous sight I awoke to this morning. I stood looking in disbelief of the chaos that nature brought upon me and began to shake with tears. Not even the worst has come, yet this tempest has undone what I have worked so hard to manage for so long.

FrizziesNT600

I am, of course, speaking about what this rainfall and humidity has done to my hair! The sandbags, THEY DO NOTHING! I realize that the Mayor and Police Chief just roll out of bed and into their smoking jackets or whatever it is that they wear and go about their day, but hope that this concern will be part of the preparedness planning before more Taloosters’ hairdos are undone by this frizzy misfortune.

Signed,
In Distress

Ship wrecked on Caribbean island

by on Wednesday, July 23rd, 2014

A ship bound for New Toulouse was lost in a terrible storm. Below is the report from the Court of Inquiry.

Shipwreck report
Charlotte Amalie, Saint Thomas
July 19

Finding and Order of a Naval Court held at the American Consulate at Charlotte Amalie, Danish Virgin Islands, on the 18th day of July, to investigate the circumstances attending the loss of the American barque, “MIELLE,” of Galveston, on the Island of St. Thomas, on the 10th day of July, and to inquire into the conduct of the master, officers, and crew of the said ship.

The “Mielle” was an iron sailing vessel, barque rigged, of 954 tons register, official No. 14.386, built at Port Glasgow in 1876, and owned by Messrs. Chadwick & Theobald.

From the evidence given before this Court it appears that she sailed from Grand-Bassam, Ivory Coast on or about the 1st day of June, bound for the port of New Toulouse, with a cargo of livestock and a crew of 18 hands and 4 cowboys all told.

That they experienced variable weather during the passage, nothing unusual occurring until on or about the 8th day of July, when they encountered strong winds and heavy seas, which continued until and after the ship ran aground.

It appears that the course was altered from W.N.W. to S.W. in an attempt to seek shelter in the lee of St. Thomas Island, but the evidence is conflicting as to the exact time she was steered S.W. The latter course was steered until about noon, when the ship did run aground and went to pieces on the north shore of St. Thomas. From the evidence before the Court it appears that beyond the trimming of sails no precautionary measures were taken with the object of preventing the ship from driving on shore. After breaking the ship against the shore the crew did take refuge in the wreck, and emerged on the 11th day of July, and made their way by walking to the Port of Charlotte Amalie. The fate of the cargo is unknown, none was recovered, but reports indicate that an unknown number did survive and were salvaged by the local populace.

The Court, having regard to the circumstances above stated, and to the whole of the evidence produced before it, finds as follows:

That the master, Mr. Terrence Romero, did find himself overtaken by a storm of exceptional size, and was taking on water due to the exceptionally heavy rainfall and the height of the waves. Mr. Romero was unable to predict the course of the storm, nor any reasonable guess as to the best quarter to run before it, and did make every reasonable effort to save his crew. Mr. Romero was not in default for driving his ship ashore, visibility during the storm being so poor as to prevent any sighting of the land or aids to navigation.

That the master, mate and crew did make every effort to preserve life and property, and that all of the crew and passengers did survive the incident, and all of the cargo was lost.

The Court, in pursuance of the powers vested in it by Section 483 of the Merchant Shipping Act, 1894, therefore orders:

That the casualty of the ship “Mielle” and the cargo on board was due to the storm itself, and not worsened by the actions of the master.

That a copy of the report, or a statement of the case, upon which the investigation was ordered having been furnished the master, Mr. Terrence Romero, that he retain his Master’s certificate without default.
We exonerate him from all blame.

(signed)

E. COLE, Judge.

Storm shots

by on Monday, August 12th, 2013

Following are six favorites from the hurricane photographs submitted to the Tattler. You can see many others at the New Toulouse Flickr pool.


Francesca Alva
H2013FA1

H2013FA2


Rmarie Beedit
H2013RB1

H2013RB2


Maggie Hawksby

H2013MH1

H2013MH2

Tea and tempest

by on Wednesday, August 7th, 2013

Arriving at my house that stormy Saturday morning to sit on the patio and have a cup of mint tea, I found that Miss Nikita had moved my houseguest Eddie to the upper floor.The sky looked ominous, and she was worried about flooding.

I secured a seat next to Eddie on the balcony and sipped my tea, watching the rain come down now at an increased rate. The tin-roofed houses on Shotgun Row were sounding a crescendo of rattling from the torrent of rain. Miss Frannie offered a few sandbags and suggested I place them strategically on the doorstep. When Miss Mirri offered me a water gauge, I quickly nailed it to the side of the building and wondered what I should be anticipating.

I wandered across the street to the shore between the closest two shotgun houses. I saw Mr. Pestana in bright yellow rain gear aboard his tugboat, ferrying a resident to the shore, and he called me to board to see for myself the rising waters. The shoreline where I normally take my walks had disappeared. Buildings and their foundations now were being threatened by water.

Mr. Pestana turned the tug back toward the bayou, focusing his concerns on the whereabouts of his prize hogs. I could not believe my eyes as we passed by shacks with no visible land beneath. At one property two large farm horses stood atop a houseboat in the pelting rain. Mr. Pestana spotted his hogs anxiously trotting on the rail siding some distance from his house. I gripped the rail of the boat tightly as he swung the vessel around to take me back to New Toulouse.

Since the city ferry dock had disappeared underwater, I was deposited on the old wooden steps along the levee. Mr. Pestana then sped away to remedy his hogs’ predicament, shouting as he left that he would be placing them up on the roof of his house and hoped to avoid possible zombie agitation.

I walked quickly through the streets of New Toulouse, anticipating that soon there would be nowhere dry to walk. My day had begun with enthusiasm and the planning of a personal venture. What a turn of events. I arrived home to secure my dairy goats on the upper floors of my house. The goats were cooperative but did not appear to sense my urgency for their relocation to drier ground. My houseguest Eddie assured me that he would stand guard against goat exploration. I decided to get out my pirogue and paddle back to the bayou to see if I could pick up any stray animals or people.

Taking my pirogue to what was left of the steamboat dock, I lowered the dugout into the swirling waters. It was hard to control the boat with my one wooden paddle in the wind-driven current. I was paddling blind, feeling my way across the waterway to the outer canal nearest my launch site. The footbridge that I had passed under with Mr. Pestana much earlier was now closer to the surface of the water, forcing me to pull onto the bank. I dragged my wooden boat up high, distrusting the unpredictable water.

The sounds of the water were unusual, even for the present storm. The wood of the footbridge was slippery. I gripped the rail tightly, and my eyes fell upon an odd sight that froze me in place. It was hard to see with the wind rubbing rain into my eyes. I dared not let go of the handrail. There were long, waving, thick protrusions arising from the water north of the bridge. It looked very unnatural, and I backed up slowly. Stepping off the last board, I purposely slid down the graveled bank on my backside before grabbing the side of the pirogue. Hearing splashing coming closer, I turned to see movement in the dark waters that engulfed the base of the bridge. In one movement I heaved myself into the boat and, using the paddle as both a weapon and means of propulsion, I pushed off from the bank into the choppy water.

When I got back to my launch site beside the steamboat Mama Cree, I noticed that the water flowing in the streets appeared to join in solid formation with the water from the river. I picked up the pirogue, balanced it over my head, and walked with an emphasis on steady footing back to the house.

At home I found a canvas bag sitting on top of the front door’s sandbags. I got inside the house and sat down next to one of my goats to open the bag, which contained a note and a photo of the mayor standing on the footbridge. The real subject of the photo was not the mayor but what appeared behind him—long, dark tentacles snaked about, too numerous to count, coming up out of the swirling waters. The anonymous note stated that the mayor had reassured the citizen that nothing unusual had been encountered in the mayor’s survey of the bayou and the hurricane’s progression. The note did not say whether the mayor had seen the photo. I placed the note and photo back into the waterproof bag, since I was not sure of anything that day, including keeping myself dry and safe.
Bayou-footbridge-horror
The safest thing is to stick to home, sip mint tea, read, and wait. I just hope the supplies keep dry and last out this very unusual turn of events.


Nnara Fenstalker lives in New Toulouse, where she operates a dance studio and keeps goats.

Terror in Bayou

by on Tuesday, August 6th, 2013

The devastation in the city showed how badly we had been affected by the storm. But spare a thought for the people of Bayou. While we paddled around our flooded streets or waded through our damaged homes and businesses, at least our lives were never in any real danger. Bayou folk lost everything. In some places the water had reached as high as the roof of their—in the main—rundown and dilapidated shacks. They had started with nothing, and by the end of the first day of the storm, they had even more of it.

Now rumors were emerging of a new horror lurking in the bayou: a creature so terrifying that people had been driven mad just thinking of it. Bayou folk tend to score rather low on the credibility scale: city-dwellers will wink and tap their heads, and mutter of “moonshine” and “inbreeding.” There was something in this tale, however, that had the ring of truth. Perhaps it was all those hapless refugees with their white faces and staring eyes: zombies in all but name. Perhaps it was because the tales of zombie infestation, dismissed with derision in the saloons and salons of the city, had turned out to be true. Or perhaps it was just a reporter’s nose for news. In any event, this reporter determined to investigate.

The ferry had been out of service since the start of the bad weather, so your intrepid reporter bravely poled her pirogue down to Bayou, not without many glances back at the city, where lights still burned in upper windows. As I steered into the flooded land I reflected that even on the sunniest day, there was something that lurked behind Bayou’s beauty: some strange, dark magic. Today, there was nothing beautiful about my surroundings—bloated animal carcasses floated past my pirogue, colliding with chairs, tables, and other items of cherished furniture, now lost forever. The thing that most struck me was the absence of noise. The swamp is usually alive with the cries of birds, frogs, and crickets, the droning of insects and the barking of dogs. The sounds of jazz and drunken singing drift from every juke joint. Now all was still; even the incessant rain and the howling wind was muffled by the live oaks and spanish moss and the dark, oily water. The splashing of my paddle seemed unnaturally loud, and I dipped it as slowly and quietly as I could.

As I moved deeper into the wilderness, I had a sense of being watched. It was not zombies—however fearsome, they are wholly lacking in subtlety and announce their presence by loud growls. It was something … alien. I took a long gulp of the holy water I had purloined from Our Lady of Bourbon Street and wished I had laced it with something stronger. I had an overwhelming desire to turn around and paddle back to the safety of New Toulouse, but they didn’t call me Fearless Frannie for nothing (NB: they have never called me Fearless Frannie, but I’m hoping this article will change that), so I forged ahead.

I was beginning to think that after all this had been a wasted journey when a vigorous stroke of my paddle propelled my craft into a clearing. A break in the clouds above allowed the dreary moon to illuminate the scene. The sight that met my eyes was too horrible to describe, but I had the presence of mind to grab my camera and take a picture of the … thing. I then knew no more until I woke up in this nice, white bed.

Judge for yourself—if you dare. The camera cannot lie.

Francesca Alva, Girl Reporter
Hurricane-The-Thing-from-the-SwampB&Wsm


Francesca Alva is the proprietress of the Green-eyed Fairy and strongly refutes any suggestion that she sells watered-down liquor. She is writing this from her padded cell in the New Toulouse Insane Asylum, where she is convalescing.

SURPRISE HURRICANE HITS NEW TOULOUSE

by on Tuesday, August 6th, 2013

Weather Service Telegram Reaches City Five Minutes Before Storm

The rain that began Friday seemed just a typical summer storm, but Saturday morning City Hall received a wire from the National Weather Service informing that a hurricane was twenty miles southeast of the city and heading northwest rapidly. Five minutes after the wire came, so did the hurricane.
H2013Ross-RoyaleTATTLER
There was little time to get the word out, but the danger was evident. People rushed to find shelter, lay sandbags, or board up windows as strong winds buffeted the city. By noon the river was rising noticeably. At 6:20 PM the city streets were underwater. By 6:30 the first impromptu hurricane party was going strong. “There’s a snake in my boot!” said Mayor Godenot when asked to give a statement.

Around 9:00 PM, the water receded briefly, but then it began rising rapidly. By 10:00, it was waist-deep. Citizens of New Toulouse, ever resilient, held impromptu boat-vs-horse races through the city streets.

The ship Marie Fontenot ran aground at around midnight Saturday. The passenger, one B. Kungfu, was nowhere to be found. The captain and crew members took refuge in the Green-eyed Fairy, where hostess Francesca Alva gave them spirits and a hookah. Within a few minutes a rescue party tried to take the injured crew members to the infirmary, but the crew successfully fought off all attempts to make them leave.
Hurr2013Bayou-n-ShotgunT2
Sunday broke to continued damaging winds and heavy rain. Some were trapped in or atop their homes, but many locals made rounds via boat and brought food or rescue. Many opened their homes to those in need. By Monday the hurricane was downgraded to a tropical storm, but the flooding and danger continues. The Tattler building was damaged, and this edition of the paper is printed under difficulties.

No residents have been seriously injured, and spirits remain high. Actually, spirits remain everywhere; an emergency “rescue party” has liberated the spirits from Lafitte’s and is distributing them to those in need.

 

The National Weather Service Wire

ZCZC USMARIEFONTENOT MEP5 ALL
TTAA00 KNTB DDHHMM

HURRICANE FORECAST/ADVISORY NUMBER 15
NWS NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE SHIP MARIE FONTENOT
0900 UTC SAT AUG 03

CHANGES IN WATCHES AND WARNINGS WITH THIS ADVISORY…

ONE.

SUMMARY OF WATCHES AND WARNINGS IN EFFECT…

A HURRICANE WARNING IS IN EFFECT FOR…
* NEW TOULOUSE AND NEW TOULOUSE BAYOU

HURRICANE CENTER LOCATED 20 NM SE OF NEW TOULOUSE AT 08/0300Z
POSITION ACCURATE WITHIN 20 NM

PRESENT MOVEMENT TOWARD THE NORTHWEST OR 315 DEGREES AT 0 KT

 

The Final Radiogram from the Marie Fontenot

Mayday, mayday, this is US weather ship Marie Fontenot in severe storm near New Toulouse Light. Grounding is imminent.

Captain ERICSSON, Mate LEBLANC, Carpenter BAKER, Cook CARPENTER, Chandler BUTCHER, and SEAMAN GUY aboard. Have been standing out to sea, reluctant to approach land in heavy seas. New Toulouse Light is intermittent, cannot obtain bearing on New Toulouse Light.

Unable to find safe harbor or estuary entrance.

Condition is untenable, attempting to ground ship on island or reef.

Passenger KUNGFU requires medical attention, he is running around like his head was cut off.

 

City Services

Emergency boats can be found at the news kiosk by the city dock and by the train station in Bayou.


The staff of the New Toulouse Tattler are rather tired.