As Hurricane Irma threatened to engulf virtually the entire state of Florida in deadly winds, driving rain and surging seas, the largest evacuation in the state’s history saw hundreds of thousands of people scrambling into crowded county shelters and jamming highways as they fled north from the storm.
With the clock ticking, some counties issued curfews for Saturday, and more shelters were opened to absorb the crush of people seeking cover from one of the most powerful hurricanes to hit Florida.
Brock Long, administrator of the Federal Emergency Management Agency, described Hurricane Irma as “a threat that is going to devastate the United States, either Florida or some of the southeastern states.”
By 7 am Eastern on Saturday, the outer bands of Irma had begun moving into Miami-Dade County. “Expect damaging winds and heavy rain,” the National Weather Service warned.
Irma has already flattened a chain of Caribbean islands, including Anguilla, Barbuda and the United States Virgin Islands, killing at least 20 people. Late Friday, the hurricane made landfall on Cuba’s Camaguey Archipelago, still a Category 5 storm, the National Hurricane Center said.
Eric Silagy, the chief executive of Florida Power and Light Company, said in a news conference that power losses were expected to affect 4.1 million customers, or nine million people in the state. He said that every part of Florida would be affected and that people could lose power for an extended period, possibly weeks. The number of customers affected in the state could be the largest ever.
Airports and airlines raced to get flights off the ground Friday. Airport parking garages in Miami, Orlando and Fort Lauderdale were full, and officials warned people of long lines and disrupted flights. At least 875 arriving and departing flights had been cancelled by midday at those airports.
There was one bit of good news: Gas prices have stabilised, mainly because Florida declared a state of emergency, which restricted abusive price increases. Georgia and Alabama, too, declared states of emergency, as have North Carolina and South Carolina.
Hurricane Irma stands apart in one way from other storms, including Hurricane Andrew, the Category 5 storm that in 1992 devastated south Miami-Dade County: It is huge. Florida, surrounded by water on three sides, is only some 140 miles wide. The storm stretches over 300 miles. Every part of the state is expected to feel its wrath.
Forecasters slightly altered the storm’s projected path on Friday night, saying it would move directly up Florida’s west coast.
“If you do not leave by noon tomorrow, you need to be prepared to get to the closest available shelter,” Gov. Rick Scott said in a statement. “After noon tomorrow, it will not be safe for anyone in these coastal counties along the west coast to travel, and it will not be safe for the law enforcement officers who will need to rescue you.”
And for all such warnings, the time to flee was quickly narrowing.
“It’s limited gas, and overcrowded exit paths,” said Pete DiMaria, the fire chief of Naples. “The decision to evacuate and move upstate had to be done a few days ago.”
Packing 155-mile-an-hour winds, the storm is strong enough to tear roofs off buildings and snap trees and power poles. The storm might drop as much as 20 inches of rain in some areas. But it is the expected storm surge that most frightens officials across the state. Several counties expanded their evacuation orders to cover more ground, anticipating surges in some places as high as 12 feet if the storm hits at high tide.
Mayor Philip Levine of Miami Beach made one request to his city’s residents and visitors: “I beg them please leave Miami Beach; you don’t want to be here.”
“This hurricane is a nuclear hurricane,” he added. “It has so much power.”
In the eastern Caribbean, residents in Barbuda and St. Martin, islands that suffered extensive damage from Irma, wearily prepared for Hurricane Jose, a Category 4 storm that continued to strengthen late Friday and which could hit those islands within the next two days as a Category 5 hurricane.
But while residents there braced for more destruction, Jose, for now, does not pose much of a threat to the mainland United States.
Many gas stations around Miami have been out of fuel for days, complicating evacuation plans, and, in a city known for flash, bottled water has become the hottest commodity. Amid mounting alarm, Miami took on the feel of a ghost town. Roads and highways were largely clear, at least in South Florida, where most people were beginning to hunker down. Traffic jams had shifted farther north. Restaurants and nightclubs were closed. While the sun was still shining, the beaches were empty. The thump of Latin music on South Beach was replaced with the whir of mechanical saws.
Defiant messages were scrawled on many storefronts, addressing the storm personally.
“You Don’t Scare Us,” wrote a group of students from the University of Miami.
But all evidence suggested otherwise. Even for the holdouts who refused to leave low-lying and coastal areas from Key West to North Florida, there was dread — both for the storm and for what are likely to be painful times afterward, when many expect to have no power, water or food for days.
“It’s gonna be worse than Andrew, and Andrew was the worst one ever to hit Florida,” said Rob Davis, the owner of two small hotels just off Ocean Drive who said he was not leaving.
The evacuation was called the largest in Florida history, but many, after agonising deliberations, decided to stay put.
Just off Old Cutler Road in southwest Miami, Alberto Valdes estimated that he was half a block from the shore of Biscayne Bay. But despite pleas from his neighbours — including a broadcast reporter who had covered the aftermath of Hurricane Andrew — nothing could convince him to abandon his one-story home.
“How can you abandon your stuff?” the 63-year-old New Jersey native asked, gesturing to the home he has owned for 20 years. “You work so hard to have it, and then walk away? It’s not an easy decision.”
Others in battle-tested Florida were taking no chances. Some had flown out days ago, or braved countless hours of traffic to go north, anywhere north.
The traffic of Irma escapees stretched up to South Carolina, with minivans and pickup trucks packed with people, pets, bedding and even furniture crawling north up Interstate 95. “We left at 4 in the morning; as far as we’ve gone, it’s been bumper to bumper,” said Linda Caldwell as she idled at a gas station in Ridgeland, S.C. The 259-mile journey to that point from her home in Daytona Beach, she said, had taken 12 hours. Her destination was Roanoke, Va.
On Miami Beach, as with every other evacuation zone, mandatory is not really mandatory. People are not forced to leave if they do not want to go. “We let them know there will be no police or fire responding to you when the winds rise above 39 miles per hour,” said Elpido Garcia, a Miami Beach police officer.
©2017 The New York Times News Service