Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SUNDAY, July 9, 1995 TAG: 9507100022
SECTION: CURRENT PAGE: NRV2 EDITION: NEW RIVER VALLEY
SOURCE: STEVE KARK
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
But that happened all over Giles County during the last few weeks.
At such times one is reminded that sometimes life is no bowl of cherries or, perhaps more appropriate under the circumstances, still waters are the exception, not the rule.
Though our house rests high and dry on a hillside (knock on wood), I know the feeling that comes with watching helplessly as floodwaters inch their way toward your home, swallowing any sense of security you might have previously felt.
It happened to me when I was a student living in the flood plain near the New River's McCoy Falls.
We were lucky back then. With little time to do anything else, my roommate and I hammered six-inch spikes into the wall and, from them, hung the few pieces of furniture we shared. My books and his stereo we loaded into my Volkswagen van. Our only real concern was for two hogs' worth of meat he had butchered and stored in the freezer.
When the water receded two days later, we found that somehow the freezer had kept the meat cold during the deluge. We moved out then and there. Not your best tenants, I suppose, but then again this wasn't Graceland we were living in: Our ``house'' was little more than a concrete bunker and our lease a more or less casual arrangement anyway.
I haven't lived on a flood plain since, but that might not mean a heck of a lot with what's happened lately.
Living on a flood plain hasn't really been the problem for most folks out this way. The water caused a lot of damage even before it got to the flood plain. After several weeks of rain, the ground is so saturated that great chunks of hillside have given way, causing damage in the most unlikely places.
When I ventured out to survey the damage along Big Walker Creek, I found what looked like huge waterfalls of mud and debris high above the creek bed. In places runoff had scoured the ground down to bare rock, and trees had been ripped loose and lay scattered down the hillside.
For the sake of comparison I consulted the record books. As bad as it's been, there is some comfort in knowing that it's been worse somewhere else.
Though the numbers vary somewhat within our region, we received almost 10 inches of rain during the month of June, which seems like an awful lot.
It might surprise you to learn, then, that twice that amount of rain has fallen at one place in the United States in a single day. The little town of Alvin, Texas, received 19 inches of rain during 24 hours on July 26, 1979.
If that's not impressive enough, an island in the Indian Ocean holds the world record with 74 inches of rain in an equal amount of time. (My source tells me that's about 8,327 tons of water per acre.)
Even stranger things have happened. In ``It's Raining Frogs and Fishes,'' author Jerry Dennis reports a Greek storm where frogs rained from the sky. ``So great were their number,'' wrote the ancient historian, ``that they filled the houses and streets.''
Modern accounts report a 1954 storm that rained crayfish in Florida and a 1870 storm where thousands of snails fell in Chester, Pa.
Worse yet, Dennis notes a 1968 storm in Acapulco, Mexico, where ``hundreds of thousands'' of maggots rained from the sky.
How's that for raining on your parade?
This got me to thinking. When I returned after surveying the damage near our home in Rye Hollow, I noted the tree frogs were really singing up a ruckus, much more than usual.
I dunno, you tell me if it means anything. The way I see it, though, I might begin to carry a hard hat around with me in the truck. Just in case.
Steve Kark is an instructor at Virginia Tech and a correspondent for The Roanoke Times' New River Valley bureau. He writes from his home in scenic Rye Hollow, in a remote part of Giles County south of Pearisburg.
by CNB