Charlie and I just returned from our local grocery Arumburu, a trip that ordinarily might take us 15-30 minutes but today because of the impending hurricane took 75. Lines were long with people buying what looked to be on average 2-3 days of provisions. No signs of panic, no pushing or shoving, no excited voices, just people getting ready for what in Baja in September and October is expected: hurricanes.
From what I gather, Hurricane Liza in 1976 was the worst to hit La Paz, killing between 435 and 630 people when a poorly engineered dike broke. The hurricane left another 20,000 people homeless.
Our house looks to be of cinder block/concrete construction. Seems pretty damn solid. Few windows. It is in a small ravine, and I can see where the last storm washed out the road. But I think we’re in a safe location (though, of course, I invite any geologists out there to render a second opinion).
The sky is a white-gray blanket, whiter to the north, grayer to the south. It’s starting to drizzle, the winds picking up. Hold on!