First, let me be fair and say I'm only writing what I saw. I don't know many people personally in Bridge City, other than my brother-in-law, Ben.
His house is on Norbert. If you Google map Norbert, you'll please note that it is the last street in Bridge City to the South East. Directly behind his house...marsh...then Sabine Lake.
The road blocks were up on the way into town, minus one space big enough for a single lane of traffic to get onto the bridge. I had no clue what I was prepared to see; especially since it hadn't been 48 hours yet since I had received footage of the city under water.
As we made the descent into town, the water evidence was clear. Debris. Marsh grass. It all littered the road way, but had been pushed back by those who had managed to get in before us to clear the roads. The approach way was fine...and then we hit what used to be town.
The Budget Motel, to the right, right before you get to Ferry Road...gone...splinters, and remnants of a wall.
Four feet high piles of debris pushed to both sides of the street. Roofs off businesses. Awnings off. Signs off posts. Visible water lines on every business and home, averaging at least four and a half feet.
As we made our way down Roberts, then to Jones on the path to Norbert, we could smell the marsh mud...the dead fish. We could see yards and driveways covered in marsh mud. Streets still feet deep in water. Residents in snake boots clomping through the mud to get salvagable belongings out of their homes.
We got to Norbert and saw his home. Dried marsh mud covering his driveway. A visible waterline, visibly up the brick siding and higher than some of his windows.
As he raised his garage door, a stench of festering marsh mud and fish was overwhelming, so much that my eyes watered every second in there. Fridges toppled over piles of wet clothes, tools strewn about...mud covering his lawn equipment and four-wheeler. Guns knocked into the water.
In the backyard, a pool-full of who-knows-what. Patio furniture tossed about.
As we walked into the house, I couldn't tell where the floor started and ended...then I realized I was staring down into three inches of standing, marsh muddy water on top of his once white carpet. Dead fish floating in the wakes of our feet.
Apparently Ike's winds and driving rain made it's way into the house. Stuff from the kitchen and cabinets were in the dining room. Items from the dining room were in the living room. Items from the living room were in the other living room, and vice-versa. The floors were covered in wet, soggy food boxes and photo frames, which I then began collecting to salvage before they dried onto their glass casings and photos albums lost forever.
It's amazing, but apparently 110 mph winds can toss dressers, beds, entertainment centers and tables and chairs around pretty good. Amid the standing mud, I managed to get many, many photos he would need for insurance purposes. One such photo stands out. This one.
The items, replaceable, however the scorn and resentment felt towards the force of nature which came through unwanted can almost be felt through these helpless, lifeless victims.
We got what we could out, but it will take more runs there and back to salvage what's left to be salvaged. With every house in the area marked with the same, high water line, this is a tale that will be told time after time after time, with only the names to be changed.
I do have Pollabear.org's videos of Orange County, and I will quickly post them to follow up this blog. I'll do it quick; I need to get the sight of my brother-in-law's house out of my mind. Some of it's too hard to bear.
Mike Tobias, Port Arthur News
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