As Hurricane Sandy approaches the East Coast my crews and I are asked to mobilize immediately. We leave Farmington, Maine long before daylight on Monday, October 29th arriving in Newton, Massachusetts at 7 am and are immediately placed on standby.
Newton is one of the oldest and most affluent towns in the Boston area. It's old money and old money prefers to live quietly aloof behind stone walls and hedges, seemingly unaffected by the troubles that plague the rest of us. It's a town full of Lexuses, excellent public schools and winding, tree lined streets. Stately, old three story New England mansions with a myriad of gables, dormers, turrets, porches and chimneys are everywhere in abundance. The streets are narrow with low, overarching trees limbs...difficult to maneuver my truck through. The old oaks and maples wait with us to see what Hurricane Sandy will bring. Somehow, looking at their huge size, I don't think this is the first storm they have weathered.
Around 2 pm the wind begins to strengthen. The DPW splits my crews up and sends each of us to different sections of the town. As trees begin to topple we are sent out to clear the streets so emergency vehicles can respond. The wind and rain really aren't that bad, but as darkness approaches I am uncomfortable with the idea of putting myself and my crew in harms way other than for true emergencies. Falling limbs and toppling trees are the main cause of death in high winds, but for emergency crews, "hot" power lines are a huge concern. Falling trees usually bring them down and the lines become tangled in the chaos of broken limbs. In addition, for self loaders like ours, booming up into an overhead live power line is a real and constant danger. Trying to do this in pitch darkness is nearly impossible and very dangerous. Around 8 pm I finally tell my crews to shut down and pull back to the staging area. The city isn't thrilled, but...
We find our way back to the hotel through gusty winds, sheeting rain and deep puddles of water that want to tear the wheel from of my hands. Early the next morning we awake to see what has happened throughout the night. Massachusetts, for the most part, has been spared. The news coming out of New Jersey and New York City is not as good.
For the rest of the week we putter around Newton, bucket trucks take down damaged trees and we load up what were once beautiful, old shade trees, now reduced to a jumbled heap of broken limbs and logs, and take them to disposal sites where they will be ground up and turned into mulch or bio mass fuel. For us, it has been a good week. By Friday evening we are done. I make the decision to leave our trucks in Mass and head home in our pickups. There is plenty of work ahead for us in New Jersey, presumably. I just need to determine if it is worthwhile and profitable enough for us to go to. This weekend I will be in constant communication with my primes. The flood waters still need to recede, bids need to be placed, contracts awarded and temporary reduction sites prepared.
Winter is fast approaching. Personally, I am ready to head for Honduras. Balancing my own desires with my obligation to my crews who are anxious to work and need the extra income this storm will produce is difficult. In the end, I pray for divine guidance and let tomorrow with all it's questions and decisions wait. It is good to be back home with my family.
Around 2 pm the wind begins to strengthen. The DPW splits my crews up and sends each of us to different sections of the town. As trees begin to topple we are sent out to clear the streets so emergency vehicles can respond. The wind and rain really aren't that bad, but as darkness approaches I am uncomfortable with the idea of putting myself and my crew in harms way other than for true emergencies. Falling limbs and toppling trees are the main cause of death in high winds, but for emergency crews, "hot" power lines are a huge concern. Falling trees usually bring them down and the lines become tangled in the chaos of broken limbs. In addition, for self loaders like ours, booming up into an overhead live power line is a real and constant danger. Trying to do this in pitch darkness is nearly impossible and very dangerous. Around 8 pm I finally tell my crews to shut down and pull back to the staging area. The city isn't thrilled, but...We find our way back to the hotel through gusty winds, sheeting rain and deep puddles of water that want to tear the wheel from of my hands. Early the next morning we awake to see what has happened throughout the night. Massachusetts, for the most part, has been spared. The news coming out of New Jersey and New York City is not as good.
For the rest of the week we putter around Newton, bucket trucks take down damaged trees and we load up what were once beautiful, old shade trees, now reduced to a jumbled heap of broken limbs and logs, and take them to disposal sites where they will be ground up and turned into mulch or bio mass fuel. For us, it has been a good week. By Friday evening we are done. I make the decision to leave our trucks in Mass and head home in our pickups. There is plenty of work ahead for us in New Jersey, presumably. I just need to determine if it is worthwhile and profitable enough for us to go to. This weekend I will be in constant communication with my primes. The flood waters still need to recede, bids need to be placed, contracts awarded and temporary reduction sites prepared.
Winter is fast approaching. Personally, I am ready to head for Honduras. Balancing my own desires with my obligation to my crews who are anxious to work and need the extra income this storm will produce is difficult. In the end, I pray for divine guidance and let tomorrow with all it's questions and decisions wait. It is good to be back home with my family.
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