The boy who cried “Hurricane!”

Hurricane Irene did her worst and finally expired over Quebec. Like an ex girlfriend of mine with the same name, Irene liked to share it around a bit. Quebec, for goodness sake!

Here in the Caribbean we expect to be hit by hurricanes. Those who have lived here a while know what to expect, we are aware of what could happen and how destructive a storm can be. There was a time in the Caribbean when most people, especially those living on boats, were rather blasé about hurricanes because they were such a rare occurrence, in fact business owners who also owned yachts enjoyed the low season and went sailing. In St. Maarten that all changed on September 5 1995 with the arrival of Hurricane Luis. A category 5 monster storm that devastated the island and changed the way those who experienced it think about hurricanes. Once you have been through a destructive hurricane, you will never react in the same way again.

An island like St. Maarten is a pinprick in the ocean, and the chances that it will take a direct hit from a tropical storm or hurricane are low. Tropical storms vary in size and move at different speeds. Some storms are tiny in diameter and if they miss the island by 30 miles, we may get nothing more that a clap of thunder, a squall and a rain shower. Other storms are hundreds of miles across and can cause serious damage even if the eye wall never comes within 70 miles of land.

The problems begin when a storm doesn’t arrive as predicted, and that brings us to the boy who cried “hurricane!”

Ignorance is bliss.

Shortly after Irene swept north along the east coast of the USA, many said that it was a waste of time preparing for a storm that hardly affected them. Others were left crying amongst the remains of their possessions.

Forecasters do a wonderful job in predicting the paths of hurricanes but even with all their technology they don’t always get it right. It is not an exact science.

The next few times the forecasters get it wrong and you decide they are crying wolf, keep your weapons handy. The next wolf could be wearing sheep’s clothing.

Diana Nyad ... more than just a swim

I write this having just received news that Diana Nyad has given up her attempt to swim from Havana, Cuba, to Key West in Florida. Diana was 29 hours into the 103 mile swim and according to reports was forced to retire after she started to vomit.

Diana is 61-years old and no matter what the sport, her age alone makes this news worthy, and is one of the reasons why the story was picked up by press agencies around the world. CNN even had a producer on board one of the support boats who was using the micro blogging site Twitter to keep everyone updated with Diana’s progress.

What Diana set out to do is a stand-alone story in itself, but for me it isn’t so much the swim I find fascination but the way one woman, trying to fulfill a dream, made her way into the fabric of our consciousness.

Early this morning I swam 26 lengths of the pool in my apartment block and retired, gasping, for cups of tea and breakfast. For the last week, while taking my morning swim, I thought about Diana. On the two occasions I swam while Diana was in the Florida Straits, I became so focused, I believed I was swimming with her.

When Diane was in pain her followers were asked to help through Therapeutic Touch (TT). I’ve heard of this and have a friend who believes in it, so much so that when I told her, she immediately began sending gentle healing thoughts Diana’s way. The power of Diana was again touching people way beyond the swim.

That America still has an embargo against Cuba in 2011 is plain stupid. Against all odds, Diana actually influenced two ‘warring’ governments, at each other’s throats since the Cold War, and brought them closer together.

Having followed Diana’s exploits on Facebook, one woman wrote that at 41-years old, the swim had inspired her to take on the Iron Man Challenge. Stories like this are popping up all over the place.

Another woman, commenting on social media, said she was disappointed that Diana didn’t complete the swim.

She won’t be anywhere near as disappointed as Diana.

Not achieving a personal sporting goal, no matter how easy, or tough, is hard to come to terms with. I know because I’ve been there. However, my sporting accomplishments, or lack of them, never affected anyone but me.

That Diana didn’t make the swim is a personal defeat, although you never know, this woman might be back. Did she fail? Not in my eyes or in the eyes of the thousands of people who were moved by the power and love generated by this remarkable woman.

Every breath; every stroke, every mile, yard, inch, of that magnificent swim, made Diana Nyad a winner.