A motorist waits in gridlocked traffic on Interstate 45 northbound from Houston. Photograph: Brett Croomer/AP/The Houston Chronicle
For bloggers in and around the Houston area, the details of local traffic flows and journeys to and from their homes hold more interest for the rest of us than usual as Hurricane Rita approaches.
The author of Lou Minatti is one of those who has tried to leave the city, but was beaten back by congestion and the oil-producing region's fuel shortage.
Once we got to the Eastex freeway, after 5 hours we were 10 miles north of FM1960. About 1-2 miles per hour. With screaming, miserable kids, a large stinky dog and no A/C in order to cut down on the gas consumption, it was too much. We drove across the highway median and were back home in 45 minutes. Just as well - there is no gas to be had, and after 8-9 hours of non-moving traffic we would have been on empty. Now we plan to hunker down and ride it out.
Tory Gattis, another Houston blogger, woke up early to get groceries and petrol the day after what he described as "the Fall of Saigon writ large". Figuring Wal-Mart had the best logistics in the world and would therefore be fully stocked, he dropped his wife off there while he searched for fuel. He got the petrol but was "big time wrong" about the supermarket.
Evacuation traffic is also creating problems for those attempting contigency plans in the event that Rita hits. A journalist for the Houston Chronicle, writing on the newspapers' excellent blog, tells how his mission to set up a parallel news operation in San Antonio "if the power went down at the mother ship" was frustrated by congestion between the cities.
I left the house in the Montrose area around 10.30am. I'd heard on TV and radio traffic reports that US 90A was a good alternative route to Interstate 10, which was a parking lot. Unfortunately, everyone else heard the same tip.By the time I got onto that route - which is comparatively narrow and dotted with lots of traffic lights - it was as crowded as I-10.
My bosses wound up calling me back after we did the math and determined that, since I had burned half a tank of gas over 55 miles in eight hours - and give there was no fuel to be purchased along the way - that I wasn't going to make San Antonio.
The writer of Dos Centavos, who did make it to San Antonio, spent 12 hours on the road to reach a hotel. "As I walked out to get my luggage, the lady at the front door of the hotel told us she'd pray for us and our homes in Houston," he writes. "I told her, heck, I'm safe. There's still some people that can't leave Houston, whether because they can't afford it or don't have access to gasoline. They need the prayers."
12tutufondue, another Houston blogger, headed elsewhere. He turned off the westward I-10 to San Antonio at Columbus and then north to Austin to stay at his daughter's house. The interstate was unlike he had ever seen it before.
Interstate 10, normally a kill or be killed sort of highway where one can easily get passed by a pick-up truck doing in excess of 100 mph, towing a trailer full of motorcycles, slowed to a standstill as nearly a million people moved out of Houston.Record high temperatures and humidity made for a sweltering night, and numbers of cars were pulled over to the side of the road, overheated. Wrecks were frequent as the traffic would occasionally pulse to a speed of 30-40 mph, and then slow suddenly to a standstill and the unobservant would find themselves crashing into the car in front of them.
Writing from his home on Lake Livingston in Trinity County, Michael Taylor watched as "the type of towns where you blink and you miss 'em" witnessed an exodus from the metropolitan areas and the biggest crowds in their history. Not for him the Fall of Saigon, but something from an earlier period in US history - the depression-era flow of dustbowl farmers to the promise of riches in California. "You definitely get a Grapes of Wrath sense while driving the roads," he writes. "Families carrying their house in their cars and trucks. Not just one car but a caravan of cars traversing the highways. Moms following dads, aunts, uncles, etc. All their belongings crammed into their trucks, u-hauls, horse trailers, and cars."
Taylor writes that he will be "hunkering down" and toughing Rita out with a backed-up computer, battened downed hatches and a barbecue-ready beef brisket, a regional speciality. "Every good Texan knows you gotta do some grilling during hurricane time," he writes.
In Houston, Laurence Simon, whose blog is linking to more hurricane bloggers than any other, sets out why he is staying put. "Traffic is just a fine way to burn gasoline with little or no results," he explains. "Three cats in the daylong heat in a car for 10 hours would have been the death of us all. I've lost one cat already this year, no need to pick up the spare."
Not all take such a reasoned attitude to being at home. The author of Bloggy Goodness reveals that their parents had attempted to leave Texas City for Lufkin, but had to return when the petrol ran out. "They heard from a cop that there was some in the next town, so I hope they can fill up again," the blogger writes. "They are going to rest for a few hours and attempt to leave again. My mom said to me, 'I don't want us to die here'. I've pretty much been bawling ever since."
No one appears to be blogging from Port Arthur, where Rita is due to make landfall, but the This Blur Called Life blog, whose author has family and friends there, some of whom evacuated there from New Orleans, is concerned for those who remain.
So my family in Port Arthur has evacuated and those in Houston are leaving today for Dallas. Lee and Lisa's dad was stupid and decided to stay in Port Arthur which is soooo stupid. They are very upset that their dad is being so stubborn. He is the only one from the family staying behind.This has been such a bad year for my family. So now, all the New Orleans people are displaced in TX, and those that stayed with family in Port Arthur and Houston are displaced again, along with the family who hosted them. JESUS CHRIST. Please stop hurricaning. Please.
