Moving to Cabo, we were well aware that this area is located in a hurricane zone. But living in the protected area of Vancouver we were lucky that the worst we ever saw were a few winter storms that would down some power lines and leave some tree branches on the road that tied up traffic the next day. Actual hurricanes we only experienced on TV, and usually only the big ones. Everyone remembers Hurricane Katrina (Cat 5 – 2005) who devastated Louisiana, Hurricane Harvey (Cat 4 – 2017) who ripped through Texas, and one of the more recent ones Hurricane Ida (Cat 4 – 2021) who on August 29 – the 16th anniversary of Hurricane Katrina – wreaked havoc in Louisiana once again.
The Baja Peninsula has seen its fair share of storms run through here as well, the most recent “big one” being Hurricane Odile (Cat 4 – 2014) who, besides leaving a massive trail of damage, managed to blow the roof off the Los Cabos International Airport.
Hurricane season runs from May through November each year. The Eastern Pacific Region where Cabo is located, has on average 18 named tropical storms and 10 hurricanes, five of which are major hurricanes (Cat 3 or higher) per year. This year so far, we have had 12 named tropical storms plus six hurricanes, one of which was a major hurricane (Cat 4). Most of these storms are located out in the ocean (like the previously mentioned Cat 4 hurricane) so we are not really affected by them. But periodically one can change direction and end up a little too close.
On August 25th, the National Hurricane Center (NHC) noticed a system forming in the Eastern Pacific and the next day as the system intensified it was upgraded to a tropical storm and assigned the name Nora. It originally seemed like Nora would just continue out into the ocean as the others did, but a very slight turn to the north had her path set on travelling up the western side of mainland Mexico which would eventually lead right to us. On August 27th, a hurricane watch was issued for Puerto Vallarta up to Los Cabos and it was estimated she would arrive here by August 30th.
Measures were taken in all communities to immediately prepare for the impact of the storm. People were boarding up windows and removing all loose items from their yards. Drainage areas were inspected and cleared to allow all the excess water to drain properly. More and more sandbags were put into place and people were out buying last minute necessities for “just in case”. Once everything was ready, all we could do was simply wait and watch for updates.
On August 28th, the hurricane watch turned into a hurricane warning as Nora was upgraded to a Cat 1 hurricane, and left extensive damage throughout the Puerto Vallarta area as she continued travelling northward. We were still waiting and wondering what would happen here when, late on August 29th, the advisory indicated that Nora had moved slightly more east and instead of hitting Los Cabos, she would continue up the Gulf of California and affect the more northern Mexican states. On August 30th she was downgraded to a tropical storm and continued north into Arizona and Colorado.
We still experienced some heavier rains here as she passed by, but we were so very lucky to be spared from any direct impact. Within Mexico alone, Nora had caused an estimated US$100 million in damage within 44 municipalities, approximately 355,000 people were without power, 30 rivers had overflowed due to flooding, and three people died.
Other than experiencing the occasional rainy day from a tropical storm or an ocean bound hurricane that passed somewhat near us (400 to 600 miles offshore), Nora was our first experience dealing with an actual hurricane since moving here. We learned a lot from that experience, especially how communities come together during these times to help each other prepare. Everyone working together for the same purpose was really quite refreshing. We noticed even at the stores, when going to pick up some necessities for “just in case,” everyone took only what they needed so there was some left for others. Even with the possibility of a natural disaster pending, people did not hoard toilet paper and buy up everything in sight – which sadly happened back home (and other places) in March 2020 when lockdowns began for COVID-19.
Wednesday September 8th started out like any other weekday morning with coffee on the patio and Lorne preparing for work. During hurricane season, we often check the weather updates throughout the day as you never know if a small system out in the ocean will turn into a storm or not. That morning, the NHC noticed a small system, roughly 1000 miles south of us, but it didn’t seem to be much to be concerned about. That is, until it quickly strengthened into a tropical storm and at 9am was assigned the name Olaf. Tropical storm warnings were immediately issued for Los Cabos as it appeared Olaf would be coming our way.
We were prepared for the storm as we still had everything in place from previously waiting for Nora to arrive the week before, so we just did a double check on everything and ran to the store for a few last-minute things. Olaf was moving northwestward at a slow pace so we knew we would have some time before he arrived. We continued with our day as usual, still frequently checking for updates. We went to bed that night hoping that, by morning, he would have changed his course like Nora did.
It was around 2am when we were woken up from a loud bang that shook our whole building. We ran out to the patio and saw the sky full of lightning. The flashes were so bright and apparently so close as the thunder continued to rock our building. We knew then and there: Olaf was coming our way, and he was definitely picking up speed. The thunderstorm eased up a wee bit and we were able to go back to sleep, but when we woke up the next morning the sky was full of huge dark clouds billowing up and moving very quickly.
Olaf was intensifying as the warm ocean temperatures and perfect wind movement created some very favourable conditions, and that morning (Sep 9th at 9am) Olaf was upgraded to a Cat 1 hurricane, only 24 hours after being named. Hurricane warnings were immediately issued for Los Cabos, and everyone was in final preparation mode. He was expected to arrive around midnight and estimated to last until noon the next day.
Ports and schools were closed and residents living in flood zones were told to evacuate. Twenty temporary shelters were set up within the state for residents with homes in high-risk areas. Tourists (estimated at 20,000) were instructed to return to and stay in their hotels, and all flights were cancelled.
Unlike Nora where we were waiting a few days for her arrival, Olaf suddenly seemed to be in a hurry to get here and was escalating at a much quicker rate with winds seriously increasing in speed. Authorities were advising people to get everything organized that morning as they estimated we would start to feel the impact sooner than expected.
Lorne finished his workday at 5pm and after dinner we fastened the hurricane shutters, closed all the windows, and prepared to experience something we had never experienced before. The rain started around 8pm, and we could hear the wind outside picking up. The power started going off and on for a bit until it shut down completely.
At 9pm Olaf was upgraded to a Cat 2 hurricane, and twenty minutes later, Olaf made landfall over Los Cabos with maximum sustained winds of 100mph (155km/h).
Sitting in the dark, inside our shuttered condo, all we could do was listen to the wind howling outside and the rain hammering against the shutters. It was so loud we could barely hear each other talk. And it was hot, really really freaking hot locked inside. Before closing everything up, our inside temperature was already at 35C (95F) and with the power off, it was climbing quickly. We could not run the AC, and with the windows closed all the heat and humidity were trapped inside. Sweat was literally pouring off us, which naturally brought back memories of my one (and only!) time trying hot yoga.
Every half hour or so, with flashlights in hand, we made the rounds to inspect all the rooms in our condo to make sure everything was still okay. At one point, while checking our ensuite bathroom, we could hear something dripping and noticed the bathroom ceiling had a small crack and water was dripping onto the vanity. We set up a bucket and laid some towels on the counter to corral and contain the dripping, then continued checking the rest of our place. The only other area water seemed to be coming in was under the patio doors. The sheer force of the wind pushing the rain hard against our shutters forced the water to creep in from underneath. We quickly grabbed some more towels to lay down and soak up all the incoming water and sat down to wait some more.
Around midnight the winds seemed to slow down, and everything appeared much quieter. At first we were excited, hoping it was over, but the lull in the storm turned out to the be the eye of the hurricane passing over us. Since things had calmed down a bit, we decided to see what was happening outside, so opened our front door to looked around. There was a very weird, almost eerie calmness in the air. We surveyed the parking lot, noticed a lot of rain had fallen and streams of water were looking for places to run off into. It was just so nice to stand there and breathe the fresh air and enjoy a bit of the breeze for a while. We stood outside for close to twenty minutes before we could feel the winds really start to pick up again, so we headed back inside for round two.
The howling winds, which sounded like a freight train running through the house were back in full force, and we knew we still had a few more hours to go before the storm would let up again. We were both so tired and decided we should try and get a bit of rest, so we grabbed our flashlights and headed to our room to get ready for bed. Being extremely hot and sticky I was totally ready for a nice cold shower, however when I went to turn on the water, nothing happened. This didn’t make sense. Normally water flows down to our unit from our tinaco (our 1,000-litre holding tank on the roof) where a pressurized pump provides constant water pressure to our taps, shower etc. However, during a power outage we are still supposed to get water flow, even if only at gravity-fed pressure from the tinaco. For some reason, this was not working, which meant we had no running water in the house. We could not shower or wash our hands or even flush the toilet.
At this point, especially without being able to shower, I knew I could not sleep in our bedroom with the windows closed tight and no air circulating so I headed back out to the living room where it didn’t feel as claustrophobic. Lorne felt he was tired enough that all those things would not bother him, so he laid down to get some rest.
The next few hours were long and loud. I sat quietly in the dark listening to the wind beating on the shutters, and just when I thought it was as bad as it could get, the wind picked up even more. I continued to check my phone for updates (thank goodness Lorne remembered to charge up our battery backup before the power went down) and made the rounds to inspect our condo to make sure there were no additional leaks anywhere.
Somewhere around 4am I noticed a slight change in the wind as there seemed to be a bit of a lull again between the huge gusts, and I realized that it was beginning to slow down. I waited a while longer until more of the major gusts had settled down and then I opened the storm shutters just a tiny bit in order let some air into the house. It was so nice to be able to breathe some fresh air again.
Lorne emerged from the bedroom around 6:30am. It sounded like the storm had finally passed, and we were able to open the shutters fully. By then, first light was appearing and we headed out onto the patio. It was so amazing to watch the sunrise that morning. After such a dark, desolate night the sunrise seemed to bring a renewed sense of being. We were so very grateful to have made it through the storm.
The Aftermath
After crossing over Los Cabos, Olaf weakened to a Cat 1 hurricane and after emerging back over the ocean, the eye collapsed and Olaf was downgraded to a tropical storm on Sep 10 at 9am. Olaf continued to rapidly weaken and by the next day had mostly dissipated.
Olaf had caused US$10 million in damages throughout the Los Cabos and La Paz areas and 191,000 people (57% of the entire state) had lost power. Two days later, with the help of 678 electrical workers, 110 cranes, 212 vehicles and two helicopters, power had been restored to 94%.
We were very lucky that our power came back on around 10am the morning after the storm. We spent the day airing out the house, cleaning up the drips, and getting things put back to normal and then we went to bed that night totally exhausted.
I have heard it said that living through a hurricane (or any other catastrophic event) can be thoroughly exhausting and now I understand it more. It’s not only physically exhausting, but also extremely mentally and emotionally exhausting as well. In fact, it took a few days until we felt we had our feet planted firmly on the ground again.
And of course, we learned a lot during this whole adventure that we can totally utilize for the next time… because without a doubt, living here we know – there will always be a next time.
ps… Don’t forget to check out the latest Snippets!
