Surveying The Damage (USA Day 160)

Florida likes to think of itself as one big theme park. Panama City Beach, a series of wide boulevards running metres from yet more great beach, boasted back to back shops selling water sports gear and goofy inflatables. The annual swarm of tourists, once finished with the beaches, could come back here for mini-golf, pirate-themed mazes, elevated go-kart tracks, tiny rollercoasters, a massive upside down house and plenty of other slightly disappointing attractions to empty the pockets and fill the itineraries. This morning, the vast majority of us rode bikes, but only two of us travelled east. The rest were taking part in an Ironman race (the cycling portion, specifically), so we trundled at touring pace watching hundreds of grimacing athletes power in the other direction. I think they had headwind: we were pushed along all day by a beautiful north-westerly wind, and barely had to pedal for the majority.

Panama City itself was more residential and far less exciting. What, no rollercoasters at all? The level of sheer plasticity fell yet again when we left southward and found the next area of land utterly obliterated by last year’s monstrous storm, Hurricane Michael. Roofs had been ripped from houses, whole blocks of garages stripped bare, an enormous bingo hall just a shoddy shell. Every tree that had climbed above twenty feet had been halved in size, snapped in two quite cleanly. We rode past an air force base that had only recently re-opened, watching strafing lines of fighter jets streak in formation through the sky. Back to full strength.

The same couldn’t be said for Mexico Beach. The damage was evident, even though rebuilding is well-underway. A majority of the houses, no more than piles of shredded material, had been pulled down and cleared away, leaving ominous gaps in streets. Some were halfway built again, still clad in Tyvek and plastic sheeting, and some were fully done. Another smattering had been reduced to simply the grid of stilts that would normally hold a house up, but had been the only part worth keeping. An enormous advertisement for insurance lawyers loomed above the main street. “Underpaid? Delayed?” it asked. We wondered how many of this town’s residents would manage to get back on their feet. How many had made their insurance claim and chosen to sell up, not interested in going through the whole process again when the next storm hit.

Our host, Larry, lived just a few miles further down the road, in a house that didn’t look as if it had suffered at all, until he revealed that the water had been over two metres high and he’s just done fixing all the damage. We enjoyed a precious, time-warped evening: we passed into the Eastern time-zone just after Mexico Beach, and would enjoy a 6:30 sunset with wine and good chat on the balcony. But tonight the clocks go back, so all that lovely time we’ve gained will revert to half five sunsets and late-afternoon dashes for campsites. If you’re going to tour in the winter, make sure you’re prepared for early mornings, because you don’t get much of an evening.