Hurricane season

Every year around now, I start thinking about hurricane season.

In 2016, during Hurricane Matthew, two feet of floodwater surged into my family’s longtime island home. Toxic mold soon coated the HVAC system and walls. Within 24 hours, it was uninhabitable. You could only enter wearing a face mask.

Contractors estimated it would cost at least a million dollars to rebuild it. Months later, my mother, a longtime island realtor, had the house torn down. The land was left to regenerate for a while before going on the market.

During the next six months, I helped put together a FEMA claim for the home’s interior furnishings and all the other belongings we had photographs of. The house itself was not covered under the terms of our flood insurance policy. (Oddly, it gushed from a creek further away, past two homes and a two-lane street….not from the beach three houses away.)

It’s easy to live here and dismiss hurricane threats and evacuation warnings. But a dangerous storm can hit and they have. Dozens of hurricanes have swept our coast since 1686, the farthest back there appear to be records for.

Historically, the most devastating storm to strike Hilton Head was the 1893 Sea Islands Hurricane, which brought a storm surge estimated at 12 feet or more and submerged much of the island. The storm killed thousands of people across the Sea Islands, many of them Gullah residents. Afterward, residents reportedly dug 37 miles of ditches to drain the seawater.

If that had happened today, they would have been hard-pressed to find 37 miles of available land to dig drainage ditches in. Asphalt, like the paved roads and parking lots we now have, keeps our lowlands from being able to absorb stormwater. Environmental advocates argue that reducing wetlands can increase flood risk because wetlands absorb and slowly release water during heavy rain and storm surge events.

An acre of wetlands can hold over 300,000 gallons of water.

According to the Southern Environmental Law Center, an acre of wetlands like salt marshes, damp forested lowlands, swamps, and bogs can hold about 330,000 gallons of water. They act as natural sponges — absorbing and slowly releasing rainfall and storm surge rather than letting it rush across the surface.

When you hear about developments planned near your home that alarm residents because of their impact on reducing adjacent wetlands, that potential for flooding is exactly what they are concerned about.

Of my takeaways from losing our home during Hurricane Matthew, three are key: know what your insurance covers, and ensure it is kept current. Keep photographs and videos of every room and cabinet in your home, so you can claim damage if you need to. Last, stay informed about developments in our area that are envisioned for wetland areas. If you want your home and community to be safer from ruinous flooding, be proactive in speaking out against them.

The more we are prepared for what hopefully will not happen, the better we will be able to manage the chaos, property loss, and insurance increases that follow a powerful hurricane.

Shannon Wilkinson is a Member of Hilton Head Audubon & Hilton Head Island Rotary Lowcountry Environmental Group.