SOME SCENES BEFORE AND AFTER FEB.27,2010

SOME SCENES BEFORE AND AFTER FEB. 27 2010

WE ARE ALIVE AND WELL

Although we were alive and well,  we immediately worried that our children in the US would not be able to know how we were.  We  had no cell phone reception, could not leave Coliumo, as there was a large fishboat over the only road out, which was also nearly cut in two.

Saturday afternoon, by sheer luck, our friend, Robert Hayes, was walking down the hill towards us as we were about to climb up and visit him.   He had just connected to his wife, Maria, in England.  She is a Spanish teacher from nearby Penco.  Knick asked him to have Maria call our son to say we are OK.

Maria received the message then, boom–  the reception died, never to return for a week.

How lucky we were.

With everyone trying to call in and out of Chile,  the microwave towers were overloaded and died.   There was no cel phone coverage for over a week.

On Wednesday, March 3^rd,  we got  word to JiJi in Davis California by two representatives of World Vision, who had acess to a satellite phone.  They were here to provide care and emergency schooling for the children.  They reached Coliumo everyday by helicopter,   flying over or house and landing on  the flat summit of the hill above us.

Jennifer, our other daughter and son, Jay, called the U.S. embassy and had the whole western world looking for us!    Jenny says she was home alone that Friday night, drinking white wine and watching recorded Angry Housewives on the telly.  She readied for bed at !:00 A.M. (6:00 A.M. in Chile).  She has a news ticker update on her phone which she rarely turns on.   This night she did and was in shock when she heard the news of Chile’s earthquake:  epicenter nearly on top of her parents.  She awoke Jay who awoke JiJi and the whole FIND THE PARENTS episode, began.

Psychologically, we all know that when something traumatic and dramatic happens, especially  If it is a major catastrophe, we are at first in shock, usually doing with aptness, whatever has to be done.   If we survive when others do not, the first thing is blessed joy.  After a day, when observing the destruction, we think of how it will all be repaired in time.   After a few more days, reality and reason set in.  We see the real damage caused, how very difficult and expensive  it will be to repair all  and the great pain of momentos lost,   Mainly, in this case, the actual horror of realizing that what looked good with some of the houses left on the beach, was just a façade   The reality sets in that there  is no safe way to repair what is left of the façade, nor the upper floors.  And now  the people who had their houses on the beach realize  they do not have any home at all.

The saddest part was seeing our dear friends, coming down from their encampments on the hill to  watch with soulful eyes  whatever remnants of their torn homes would burn.   The people silently went about their somber jobs of tossing wood,   wall  coverings , roof parts, etc onto the pyres on the beach  with flames growing higher and   higher.    This truly became a “tierra del fuego” with the lingering smoke rising into the sky.  This is the one time in our life we could not complain about smoke in our house, because we still have a house, and the beach and sea must be cleaned of all debris.

We helped by giving a sleeping bag here, a pair of rubber boots there and when we could finally drive out, buying eggs for a few families at the local egg farm CRIADERO COLIUMO, luckily located high on the hill.

Our daughter in  San Diego, California  called the  US embassy in Santiago,  Chile, insisting they send EGGS  AND WATER  to Coliumo.   The bittersweet joke is that Coliumo has it’s own wonderful supply of eggs and a good, though scarce, water source .   There are natural springs on the upper slopes of the peninsula and water will be delivered to whomever needs it by the municipal water tank truck

In  urban areas on the first day and night of the  cataclysm , the looting, the hysteria, the complete lack of organization  and control   was unbearable.   In Coliumo, a very rural self sufficient fishing  and farming area, people called it  a “Paradaiso”, in comparison  with what was finally heard from Radio Bio Bio, about the cities.   Even our small town of Tomé, 11 kilometers from us, had looting in the grocery stores.  Radio Bio Bio,   the only functioning radio station in the region,  kept people  informed 24 hours a day “post sismo”.  Many people called to give thanks for their coverage and  comfort.  We also felt that exact way, as we sat in our car until daylight, listening to the radio, anticipating more tremors that would set us off  rumbling and rocking.

Coliumo didn’t have any looting or civil disruptions, partly because of our isolation and also because of the long history of  the hardworking families of our villages, fishermen and farmers for generations.   Some people were living in houses that had been in their families, in one form or another, for over 100 years.

On Sunday, the next day, the Army and Navy, provided over 6,000 soldiers and sailors to patrol the streets and rural roads to maintain order throughout the region.  The Carabineros, the national police force, did not have the number of officers in place to handle all the work.

It was a comfort to us to see the soldiers, with their scrubbed and smiling faces,  on the roads— patrolling all night long and delivering food and clothing to the people in the encampments during the day.

All photos and editing by Lyn Pyles

CALETA LOS MORROS DE COLIUMO BEFORE AND AFTER THE EARTHQUAKE AND TSUNAMI OF FEBRUARY 27, 2010

On the west coasts of both Americas there are really very few harbors for small boats that offer both quick access from the sea and 360 degree protection from storm winds.   Caleta Los Morros, or as shown on some nautical charts, Ensenada Rere, is one of those harbors.     The drawbacks of this moorage are the rocky bottom and exposure to reflected winter storm waves off the steep, rockbound mainland shores to the northeast.

Most of the rest of the anchorages around Bahía Coliumo are more exposed to winter storm winds that typically blow out of the northwest, though are usually comfortable in the summer time and do enjoy the benefit of sandy bottoms.

Anchoring on the rocky bottom of Caleta Los Morros is made safe by using “rock pick” anchors, or as they are known in Spanish: “arañas” or “spider anchors”.   Alternatively, heavy concrete blocks or “muertos” are used to hold mooring lines securely.

The tsunami of May, 1960 that destroyed or damaged many ports and seaside communities in Chile and around the Pacific Basin had little effect on
Bahía Coliumo because of her opening to the north- sheltered from the direct energy of the tsunami that originated on the coast of
Chile many miles to the south.

This time, the epicenter was just to the north northwest of the entrance to Bahía Coliumo and thus its full energy was directly aimed into the entrance. The tsunami swept into and over every part of the bay with just a few areas saved from a direct blow of of the incoming wave or the destruction of the wave returning to the open sea.

The two photos that are included in this port (we hope!!!) show an afternoon scene of Caleta Los Morros from our deck and the post dawn, post tsunami scene from almost the same place on our deck.   The unchanged feature is El Morro Grande that still is there covered with trees.   Though there is only one “morro” in view, there are actually three- the two smaller ones are hidden behind Morro Grande from our deck.

Each Chilean summer for a number of years one or more cruising sailboats came into Bahía Coliumo and stayed for a few days to a week, allowing us to enjoy again the cruising life, vicariously.   For some reason, perhaps because of the  new marinas and services available to cruisers to the north and south of our area, we have not had a visit for at least six years.

If we had had a visiting yacht, she would have been anchored  just offshore from the main group of moored fishing vessels.    Were we ever glad that our wishes had not been answered and we had had a visitor at anchor below us.

If we had, the helpless craft and crew would have been swept away to be deposited in a field high and dry, if they were very lucky, or would have been torn apart by the crashing wave loaded with  tumbling fishing boats and flotsam of all types from whole trees to automobiles.

The sailboat in the “before” photo is KIEL II, owned and sailed by our neighbor and friend, Carlos Zirpel.     Normally, she would have been moored in the caleta till sometime in March.   This year, Carlos had a big trip planned to Australia and China and thus sailed back  to winter quarters at the yacht club in Caleta Manzano at the big naval base in Talcahuano.

The tsunami struck Bahía Concepción and thus Caleta Manzano very hard, spreading yachts across the road, sinking others, wrecking the yacht club building, and causing much loss in the Chilean Navy’s shipyard, ASMAR.  We were very happy to learn that KIEL II survived with minor damage only.  She is a Beneteau, swing keel yacht with a lifting rudder.   Her smooth hull, unobstructed by keel, rudder, or propeller shaft was of the right shape to stay in one piece.

The seiner, CARMEN LORETO, moored just to the lower right of KIEL II  was swept from her moorings by the tsunami, but somehow was undamaged by the watery blow and  floated in and out of the bay on the various waves and currents  until a small boat could be launched to retrieve her and re-moor her in the finally still waters of the caleta.   Her skipper, Marcos Cisterna,  came out to the MURIELLE in November of 1994 to offer us an “araña” anchor which would keep us safely anchored, if we went ashore.  Because of his kindness, the chain of events that led us to build a house and live part of the year in Coliumo, began.

February 27, 2010 The Cataclysm

A bit of the story of the cataclysm from our perspective.

Friday, the 26th, was a very nice day. We spent the morning, as has been our custom for the last three years, walking over to Dichato by way of the foot bridge across Estero Coliumo and the old railroad right of way to a waterfront restaurant where we had coffee and fruit and cheese empanadas. The group, known, internally at least, as “los gringoliumanos” varies in size from three to over a dozen people including expats and local and visiting Chileans. Little did we know then that less than 24 hours later the restaurant, along with almost all of Dichato near sea level, would be completely flattened and washed out of existence by the tsunami or “maremoto”. We haven’t seen TV or read a newspaper, but have heard there has been substantial coverage of the destruction of Dichato, primarily because of the high loss of life in that seaside resort town on the first night of the last weekend of summer.

Since early 1996 we have spent many hours in Dichato and have grown to know many of the merchants, repair shop people, Carabineros, and staff of the University of Concepción’s Marine Station. Not sure when we will see any of them again, nor know who actually survived. For sure, their next few years will be tough ones, as they try to rebuild their lives and businesses.

There was no warning. All at once, we were violently shaking in the horrible noise of the earthquake. Providentially, Carol Lindemulder, our artist friend in Borrego Springs, CA of 60+ years, had just Emailed us the earthquake do’s and don’ts. So, I grabbed Lyn and we fell to the floor on the away from the windows side of the bed, hugging and fending off flying drawers and other objects. I worked mostly with my arms and Lyn was able to deliver some good kicks by the light of the almost full moon.

The only way to understand the feeling of an 8.8 earthquake that lasted, we have heard, one minute and forty five seconds, is to stand by the paint shaking machine, agitating a gallon of paint, in a hardware store. The noise the machine make is pretty uncomfortable to listen to, for sure. Further, it must be imagined that the machine is much bigger and holding a box big enough to hold a couple of people. Then the rhythm needs to be reduced considerably and the noise level raised immensely! That is as close as I can come to describing what we felt in those moments of sheer horror. We did have time to think about various possibilities: “Will the floor come away from the wall allowing us to fall into the kitchen?”; “Will the ceiling fall on us, and if so, will the bed protect us from the timbers?”; “Will the whole house just slide down the hill into the caleta?”; “Will the staircase fall away from the wall so that we are trapped upstairs until we can climb out the window by the Jacob’s ladder we keep as a ‘fire escape’?”; and many other scary possibilities.

The noise was way too horrible and loud to allow any meaningful communication between the two of us. All we could do was hold on and hope and pray we would survive!

Almost as quickly as it started, the shaking stopped, as did the horrible rumbles of the quaking earth, the rasping of flying drawers and objects, breaking glassware, and the screeching of every nail, roof panel, stud, beam, and plank in the house.

A cloud cover darkened the moon light as we struggled to find the flashlight that had been in the top drawer of the bed stand. Of course, the drawer had flown out strewing its contents all over. Luckily, Lyn found the flashlight, we were uninjured, and I found my glasses unbroken. We carefully made our way down the stairs to go outside. Boy, were we grateful the sturdy rauli wood stairs were all in place and firm to our foot stepsI

I stumbled into the kitchen to grab the car key. I managed to just slightly cut the sole of my foot on a piece of glass as I stepped into the dark kitchen to grab the keys. When light came and we could see all the shards of our glassware all over the floor, we knew it had been a stroke of luck not to have sliced one or both feet right open.

Once out in the yard and had caught our breaths we could hear people running up our steep road to higher ground. We knew our house and yard were high enough to escape any tsunami, but we joined some of our friendly neighbors up to the first level place from where we could see down into the caleta over our rooftop, plus have the comfort of their company.

One of the people was Rafael, a crewman aboard the fishing boat, AGUILA REAL, or “ROYAL EAGLE”. The boat was anchored in Caleta del Medio after returning home from fishing in Chiloe and Patagonia where we had crossed wakes with her in the MURIELLE back in the 1990’s.

Soon we could hear the roar of waves crashing onto the beach below us. The roar was loud, but not much worse than the sound of winter storm waves. This time, though, above the roar we could hear frightening grinding, bumping, and tearing sounds. There was a mist or spume over the scene, so we couldn’t see anything by the partial moonlight. All we could do was listen.

As the cloud and mist obscured dawn began we could finally see out across Bahia Coliumo towards Dichato and the caleta below us.

The anchorage was almost empty of boats. Where once were dozens- there now were just a couple that appeared to be well anchored. Out across the bay we could see seiners and smaller fishing boats floating loose amongst streams of debris and odd-shaped things. A bit more light and binoculars revealed that the mysterious shapes were whole houses floating loose, as well as just roofs, including one large double dormered one.

Then the water started to pour out of the caleta over the rocks leading out from the southeast corner of Morro Grande. The water became a huge boiling mass of overfalls and rapids. To our amazement, the bottom of the caleta was completely exposed. Where once there was always at least six feet of water under the keel of the anchored MURIELLE, there was nothing! The two boats left in the caleta were completely stranded on the rocky bottom, while their sisters were floating backwards out the mouth of the bay. Then the water returned, more gently than it had left yet still with maelstroms entrapping the loose fishing boats that began a slow circling dance.

Robert Hayes, our neighbor from England, whose house had a view out over the ocean showed up along with his neighbor Miguel Grez of Concepcion, to see what was happening in the interior waters.

Yuri Godoy and Lorena, our friends for some years here in Coliumo and, amazingly, neighbors in Bellevue in the 80’s, but we didn’t know it, also came down to see how we were.

The early dawn weather was cold and damp. We didn’t want to turn on the gas and couldn’t anyway, as the kitchen was completely unusable until cleaned up. So, we got a fire going in our BarBQ or “parilla” to heat water for coffee and toast some bread.

For I don’t know how many years we have had a surplus of coffee mugs in the house or boat. Now, we found that we didn’t have enough for even this small group. Almost all our coffee mugs were pieces of pottery scattered on the kitchen floor. Luckily, we had a number of plastic mugs from our U S Thermos bottles available— enough for all to have a cup of coffee.

Once down on the patio we could see along the beach to the north of us where there was a line of houses, some that had been there in earlier forms for over a hundred years. To our horrors, the houses were either just gone, or twisted and broken up into unbelievable forms. We were pretty sure everyone of our neighbors who lived in the houses were safely up on high ground—yet how saddened and appalled were we to know that those homes, some recently re-modeled with second stories added, were now history.

We now realized what the horrible sounds in the dark were—the sounds of our neighbors’ houses being destroyed by the first terrible wave of the tsunami.

More later.

Knick y Lyn Pyles

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hkpyles@dccnet.com, lyn1771@gmail.com, knicklyn@yahoo.com

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