How Big Were The Waves? By John Hartrampf When off-Island people, and even locals, learn that I was in Seven Cousins Cottage when Hurricane Isabel made landfall, their first question is often “How big were the waves?”   The event was so momentous in the history of Hatteras Island that a simple measurement will not suffice to give one a correct vision of what happened on September 18, 2003. Each time a hurricane has come ashore at Hatteras, it has been my desire to be present in order to prepare the Cottage for the storm, and to care for it afterward.  I specified materials and techniques in the building of Seven Cousins to improve its storm worthiness, and these were tested by 3 hurricanes during the building period. My wife, Karen, and I were in Florida on Saturday, September 13, when Isabel’s track was projected to cross Hatteras Island.  We packed up the cat and drove to our home in Atlanta on Sunday.  Monday morning, Isabel was still rated a scary Category 5 hurricane, and I knew it would be unsafe to be in the Cottage.  Aware that a Cat 5 hurricane would likely destroy our roof and windows, I began lining up repair teams to bring from Atlanta after the hurricane.  Intending to fly this repair team to the island, I soon discovered the gravity of a Cat 5 hurricane. The Fixed Base Operator in Greenville, NC, told me their planes would not be available.  They were moving them to the other side of the Appalachian Mountains in advance of the storm! However, by 6 PM on Monday, Isabel was down-graded to Cat 3 hurricane.  By 9 PM, I had decided to travel to the Cottage.  Karen made a midnight run to the grocery store, returning with water and survival foods for me to live on while in the Cottage.  I loaded up the SUV and left Atlanta around 5 AM on Tuesday, with Karen and the cat remaining behind.  Mike and Russ, our faithful Cottage caretakers, had already installed plywood on those top floor ocean front windows which they could reach.  While driving on I-95, I catalogued in my mind other items I would need to secure the house.  After a stop at Lowe’s, I arrived at the Cottage around 4 PM on Tuesday.  Traffic on Highway 12 was light, as most people had evacuated. On arrival, I found the weather pleasant, with light winds and broken overcast.  Lulled by the peaceful scene, I decided to take a walk on the beach before sunset.  The sea oat covered dunes were beautiful, as always, and it didn’t occur to me that most of these dunes soon would be no more.  The surf was up somewhat, but the beach and surf were just exquisite. On Wednesday, the wind was up and out of the North.  I spent the day taping closed the sliding glass doors, sealing the stove’s large hood, stuffing the bath fan vents closed, and readying the generator.  I also readied my “meals” for on the go consumption.  Karen called to remind me, among other things, to fill the bath tubs with water.   I had never lost the water supply in previous hurricanes.  Having learned to obey, I ran the tubs.  Good thing, because all utilities were lost when our village became severed from the rest of the island! On Thursday morning the wind remained out of the North, and was gusting to 50 or 60 MPH.  Heavy bands of rain began.  I turned my attention to securing the interior of the Cottage. I stowed pictures and lamps that could become missiles, and removed bed linens which might act as wicks if water covered the floor.  I readied mops and buckets, and attached power cords from the generator in the garage.  The house was “ready” by 10 AM, and I decided to rest and eat to prepare myself.  The rain bands from the East intensified, but the winds remained out of the North, which was very puzzling.  The surf began to break over the smaller of the primary dunes, approximately a hundred yards from the Cottage. I stationed myself on the top floor ocean front corner window, so I had a good view of the surf and ocean for miles.  Since Isabel’s landfall would be a daytime event, I wanted to see it all.  The other hurricanes had come ashore at night, which had been frightening.  By 11:30 AM, the wind began to swing around from the Southeast, and waves were breaking over the tallest primary dunes, over 25 feet high.  The water was reaching neighbors’ swimming pool fences, and the wind gusted to 110 MPH. Returning to the question, “How high were the waves?”  Picture a phenomenon which seemed inexplicable to me.  As the water level reached the pool fences, those 25 foot waves from just two hours previous became smaller until they were only 12 inches high.  These 12 inch waves, about 40 to 50 feet apart, raced in a continuous roll from far out in the ocean, across the spookily calm surface of the water. They splashed against the pool fences or dunes close to the houses.  About 1 PM, while the winds howled, the almost calm ocean level had risen by about 20 feet to gradually become a flood flowing inland.  I saw it pick up a neighbor’s concrete swimming pool and twist it sideways, rush between houses, cross Highway 12, cross the ferry parking lot, and rush north on Highway 12.  I looked out in front of the Cottage and saw the ocean, flat calm, flowing inland toward me, just like water flowing down a river.  No waves, just water spilling over the island! At 1:45 PM, I noticed the ocean level beginning to recede, and by 2:30 PM the ocean level had gone back to where the primary dunes had been, with big surf once again.  All but a few of those dunes were gone.  Remaining was an almost flat beach.  Debris and destruction were everywhere. We are saddened by the destruction Isabel caused to so many people.  We are grateful that our Cottage had no damage, and that our new beach vistas are as beautiful as before. Seven Cousins was protected from the flood by its location on a dune that was just high enough. How high were the waves?  In a Hollywood movie, giant waves would have wreaked havoc!   On that September day in Hatteras, we experienced a 20 foot high surge of water which had formed during Isabel’s Category 5 hours.  In just 30 to 45 minutes, it destroyed everything in its way. Then it was gone. Epilogue After Isabel, I was stranded, along with just a few others, on the end of Hatteras Island now severed by a "new" channel.  The Salvation Army seemed to drop from Heaven to set up a meal service.  A few days later, after securing things as best as possible, I left the island on a one-way emergency ferry. When we were able to return, we ordered hurricane shutters and an improved emergency generator.