I’m no stranger to flooding, having grown up in the Missouri River bottoms. One of my earliest memories is down on the family farm looking at the high-water marks left from 1953 onward. In 1986, I was no longer living at home, but we drove in to see the devastation. That one dampened the basement, but the flood of ’93 came up several feet into the house.
Since we moved into our current home, we’ve had a little sogginess in the bedrooms and garage, but then in June a couple years ago, we had to pull three rooms of carpet and replace a lot of drywall. Inches in the bathroom, and all over the edges of the living areas.
Basically, floods seem to follow me.
Now, this year, this month, Missouri is underwater. Mostly. Our plan today was to drive to the farm to drain the water pipes in the house before the freezing temps in a few days. Typically, if your pipes are in insulated walls, you’re fine unless the mercury dips below 20.
We’re not taking any chances, not with new tile and cabinets all over the place.
However, the best laid plans and all that . . .
My husband left an hour ago for the farm. His new plan is to heat up the house, drain the pipes, and head back tomorrow. Going down there has its challenges, as part of the interstate is very, very close to flooded roads, but the rivers are still rising in spite of the rain stopping yesterday.
Well over flood stage is expected over the next few days, so the timing of his trip back may be questionable.
Funny how, when prepping, we don’t often think of floods as an impediment to bugging out. Since most of the weather around here, and between here and there, is generally moderate for at least 9-10 months of the year, we usually think of manmade obstacles.
This is kind of a wake-up call, and I’d urge everyone to not only think about and plan for typical disasters, or even some expected ones, but really—who knew we’d be flooding in December?
Again, the getting there isn’t the problem, at least today; so, if we were bugging out now, we’d go. No questions asked. The time is now, as the rivers are still rising.
Kind of feel like I’m playing Oregon Trail.
In a snowfall situation, same thing. Sometimes you have to make a decision right away, and act on it. No dilly-dallying. Much, much better to leave and maybe come back than to wait until it’s too late.
Of course, you also want to know that where you’re going is safe. Our farm house, for instance, is on a hill. We have great visibility and good drainage, once you get there. That part can be tricky, but once we’re in, we’re in to stay and we have no worries about surviving from that point on.
And it makes it more difficult for anyone we don’t want there to actually arrive.