Columnist note: This week marks the 326-year anniversary of the Jan., 26, 1700, magnitude-9 megathrust earthquake and associated tsunami that hit the Olympic Peninsula. Science tells us it was caused by a Cascadia Subduction event. Native American legends say it was the result of a battle between the Thunderbird and a whale. All agree. The Cascadia Subduction event happened before. It will happen again. This week’s column explores how not to prepare for it.
I HATE WATERBEDS. They always seem to be moving when you’re trying to lie still. Then I woke in the middle of the night with the bed jumping up and down like a waterbed.
The whole house was moving and creaking like it was breaking apart.
The next thing I knew, it was raining. That didn’t make sense until I noticed the gaping hole in the roof where the water was pouring in like a cold shower.
The power was out. I fumbled in the dark through a jumble of tipped-over furniture for a flashlight but found my phone instead. I tried to turn it on. The battery was dead. I should have charged it.
I had no idea what time it was. The brain struggled for an explanation of what had just happened.
Was it a nuclear war the politicians were always threatening us with? A gas explosion? Earthquake?
There had to be some explanation. I turned on the radio to get some news.
The radio was dead. I should have got one with batteries.
Walking barefoot in the dark in the squalor of my home was always a challenge, but with everything tipped upside down, I kept bumping into stuff.
Then I stepped on a fish hook. I must have left my tackle box open. Now it was all over the floor.
Amid the pain and panic, I stepped on another fish hook.
As much as I hate fishing with barbless hooks, they are easier to pull out of your hide than the barbed ones.
That was OK. I had a pair of pliers in my truck, but a tree had fallen on it. I couldn’t get the doors open.
I felt my way back into the house and hobbled over to a dry corner where it didn’t seem to be raining.
There was only one thing do, wait until dawn.
That seemed to take a very long time.
My feet were throbbing. There was no sound coming from outside.
After what seemed like forever, it started to get light. In the gray haze of dawn, the devastation was shocking, but first things first.
What I really needed was a hot cup of coffee. That and getting the fishhooks out of my feet. I tried the faucet, but only a thin trickle of rusty water came out.
Then I remembered. The toilet had water. Enough for coffee anyway.
I could boil it with my camping stove. But the camping stove was out of fuel.
I was getting hungry. I checked the fridge. There was a half a bottle of ketchup, some mustard and a slimy bundle of kale.
All I had in the freezer was a dozen herring and some cured salmon eggs usually used for bait.
There was nothing for breakfast.
Then I woke up.
The Subduction had all been a bad dream.
I thought it might be a good idea to get ready for this impending disaster.
It’s happened before. It will happen again.
You never know when the Thunderbird will pick a fight with a whale.
Make a list. Check it twice.
We’ll thank ourselves later if we do the right thing now.
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Pat Neal is a Hoh River fishing and rafting guide and “wilderness gossip columnist” whose column appears here every Wednesday.
He can be reached at 360-683-9867 or by email via patnealproductions@gmail.com.
