Carol Whitmore faced a challenging situation as Hurricane Milton barreled toward Florida’s west coast, bringing with it a sense of urgency and fear. Just two weeks earlier, Hurricane Helene had wreaked havoc, leaving residents like Whitmore with fresh memories of destruction. The floodwaters from Helene had surged up to the door panels of her vehicle, although the storm had struck hundreds of miles away.
This time, Whitmore was determined not to be caught unprepared. During Helene, she had been stranded until her daughter located her using the family safety app Life360. Fortunately, some familiar faces came to her rescue in a boat, but the experience left a mark on her. As Tuesday morning dawned—only 40 hours before Milton’s predicted landfall—Whitmore was ready to leave the barrier island behind. She packed her other vehicle with important papers from her safety deposit box and enough clothes to last her for a while. With her beloved rescue dog, Maddie, in tow, she knew she had to act quickly.
“Honestly, only a fool would stay,” she remarked, describing Milton as the storm everyone had prepared for but never expected to actually face. Millions of Floridians were in a similar mindset, heeding warnings and preparing for what could be one of the most powerful hurricanes in recent history. As Milton gained strength over the warm waters of the Gulf of Mexico, it threatened to unleash historic storm surges and winds on a weary populace.
The urgency was palpable across the state. Local leaders, like Tampa’s mayor, Jane Castor, issued stark warnings: “If you choose to stay in one of those evacuation areas, you’re gonna die.” Meanwhile, Bill Tokajer, the police chief of Holmes Beach, echoed the sentiment. “If you don’t take heed, you’re on your own,” he cautioned. He added, somewhat grimly, that it might be wise to write down personal information on one’s body for identification purposes if they decided to remain. The message was clear: staying behind was not an option anyone should take lightly.
As the clock ticked down to Milton’s expected arrival, residents scrambled to evacuate. Highways and bridges quickly became congested with those fleeing the coast, with predictions of storm surges reaching as high as 15 feet. Jake Keglor, who had left his home in Seminole early Tuesday morning, soon found himself grappling with another issue: gas shortages.
“Gas is the biggest issue,” Keglor shared, noting that his usual route to Orlando was fraught with challenges. After witnessing the devastation from Helene, he had changed his previous mindset. Friends who had once shrugged off storms now found their vehicles half-submerged in water.
In the days leading up to Milton’s landfall, emergency crews were in a race against time to clear debris left in Helene’s wake. Greg Mullis, a manager for a junk-hauling firm, detailed the frantic efforts to remove everything from doors and mattresses to refrigerators, ensuring that nothing could become a projectile during the upcoming storm.
Marie Saveikis, an 82-year-old resident, had initially planned to ride out the storm in her coastal home but ultimately decided to heed her family’s advice and evacuate. “For me, it’s toiletries and medications,” she explained, prioritizing cleanliness and comfort as she prepared to leave.
Skip and Annie Radick, seasonal residents on Anna Maria Island, took one last sentimental stroll along the beach, feeling a deep sense of loss at the prospect of losing their cherished getaway. “We’ve been on the island since 1997, and this is the first time we’ve seen nobody on the beach,” Skip noted, contemplating the memories their family had built there over the years.
As the deadline for evacuation loomed, Chief Tokajer continued to juggle his responsibilities, striving to manage both the aftermath of Helene and the impending threat of Milton. He urged residents to leave as quickly as possible. “If we have double the surge of Helene, the water will be over my head out here,” he warned, emphasizing the potential severity of the situation.
As Keglor navigated the congested highways, he reflected on the storm’s unusual path. “If the storm stays on the current track, it will be the worst storm to impact the Tampa area in over 100 years,” he recalled. With a touch of lore from his Seminole roots, he mentioned the Tocobaga tribe’s blessing that historically shielded the region from storms, wondering if it was time to renew that blessing as Hurricane Milton approached.
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