On the second weekend after Hurricane Helene, Swannanoa Christian Church held its first Sunday service since the storm battered western North Carolina. The sanctuary was piled high with clothes, water, and food, so everyone gathered outdoors. Out in the yard, beneath a clear blue sky and uphill from devastation wrought by the flood, the congregation interspersed prayer with the testimonies of congregants who had pulled people from the water or been pulled from it themselves.

After the service, as congregants lingered to chat or sort donations, Elder Gordon Dasher recounted his church’s mission following the storm. “Our goal is to be the kingdom of God here on Earth,” the pastor said. “We’re getting into the filth, getting dirty, getting sewage and mud on our feet and hands and helping people in the darkest moment of their life. That’s number one.

“And number two, what we want to see come out of that is we want people to see at least a glimmer of a light to come on that says God is real, because here are his people right here, side by side with us in our suffering.”

Dasher and his ministry in Swannanoa are part of a teeming community of faith-based organizations using their deep roots, vast networks of the faithful, and financial means to help in whatever way they can. Beyond the local congregations, Presbyterians, Catholics, Baptists, and many other other denominations rushed in to help, as they so often do after floods and hurricanes and wildfires everywhere. Almost three months later, the sight of church volunteers clearing away rubble, handing out water, or gathering in prayer remains as common as the sight of damaged homes and washed-out roads. 

Those who descend on such places are eager to help, and many hope to realize their dreams of a different, better world. They often glimpse a chance to create from the wreckage an ideal based on their aspirations or ideologies. Right-wing militias see in post-disaster chaos ripe opportunities to recruit and fulfill their goal of undermining trust in the state. Those on the other end of the political spectrum often see a chance to build a more egalitarian society. Dozens have gathered each week at the anarchist bookstore in Asheville to read A Paradise Built in Hell, which explores how communities restructure and establish small utopias in the wake of disaster.

But none of them match the people of faith in scale, ambition, or determination to do good. Churches, synagogues, mosques, and other houses of worship are well positioned to gather resources and mobilize quickly. In rural communities in particular, local churches are natural communal focal points, providing social structure and a trusted information network. 

Many denominations, especially within Christianity, also feel divinely called to this work — they undertake it with the belief that they are building the Kingdom of God, a world they’re working toward in both the act of disaster relief and, for many, the act of proselytizing. This belief is particularly strong among the evangelically-driven Protestantism of the American South, where, in the aftermath of Helene, faith organizations have been on the ground doing both. 

“Strangers, complete strangers, just showing up to help because they love Jesus has been really inspiring,” Dasher’s daughter Jessica said. 

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Churches and faith-based organizations can be nimble responders. As roads throughout the region became passable, churches opened their doors to receive donations and organized volunteers, some of whom came from as far as California, to deliver them.

Their efforts have expanded beyond serving immediate needs like providing food and water and clothing to more ambitious efforts like repairing homes, donating campers and tiny cabins, and providing a bit of financial assistance. The decline in tourism has hit the city of Asheville hard, leaving Buncombe County with the highest unemployment in the state. Even before the county’s rent relief program got started, Grace Covenant Presbyterian Church was cutting thousand-dollar checks for residents desperate to avoid eviction.

They’re so nimble, in fact, that federal and state relief agencies, mired in the bureaucracy of their work — and whose jobs do not include mucking out or repairing houses, but rather providing the money needed to do so — have come to lean on them. The Federal Emergency Management Agency directs disaster survivors to, and works alongside, long-term recovery groups, which is the government’s name for the churches, nonprofits, and businesses that provide the backbone of relief efforts. They are marshaled by what are called voluntary organizations active in disasters. In addition to providing and coordinating boots on the ground, they play key roles in long-term planning and recovery. Churches are so central to this work that the Obama administration established the Office of Faith-Based and Neighborhood Partnerships to train and prepare emergency management officials and congregants to collaborate in the field. (President Trump shuttered the program in 2017; President Biden resurrected it in 2021.)

Although most everyone in western North Carolina is grateful for the help, several people expressed reservations about depending so heavily upon the faithful. Others recalled being surprised when volunteers showed up eager to help but wanted to give thanks to God first.

“They started out by holding a prayer circle, and I guess it made me uncomfortable,” said one resident of Zionville, which is about 100 miles from Asheville. This person, who did not want to give their name for fear of antagonizing those helping the community, is not opposed to prayer, but felt uncomfortable doing something so intimate with strangers. Still, they relented. “I was worried they weren’t gonna fill my driveway if I didn’t participate.” 

The emphasis on faith and conversion can sometimes feel out of sync with people’s real needs. Michaela Curry, a flood survivor and volunteer in Watauga County, N.C., recalled church groups offering to cook meals for flood victims and leaving stacks of Bibles behind. “Generally people aren’t taking them,” she said. “It’s kind of this weird dynamic.”

Curry has preferred to work with those who don’t place so great an emphasis on faith and proselytizing, and has made a particular point of avoiding Samaritan’s Purse. The organization, founded by the Rev. Billy Graham, makes clear in its foundational statement of faith, “we believe that marriage is exclusively the union of one genetic male and one genetic female.” That leaves Curry and others wondering if the group is truly interested in helping everyone.

Such a question can be fraught, because in some rural counties, Samaritan’s Purse is essentially the only charitable organization providing vital help like rent relief assistance. 

[Need help with rent or housing post-Helene? Grist has a guide for finding resources.]

Shannon Daley, who leads U.S. disaster relief for the international organization, conceded that its volunteers must sign that statement of faith, but said they do not discriminate against anyone needing help. Still, they are, she said, “always wanting to share that message, and about how we can have a personal relationship with the Creator of the universe through his Son.”

Helpers may be told not to pass judgement, but that’s not to say they don’t, said Valentine Reilly. She helps coordinate volunteer efforts in Trade, a small town in the easternmost corner of  Tennessee, and recalled instances in which she felt volunteers questioned the morality of some victims, or set to work without finding out what was needed. “These people are all coming out here to help,” she said. “They’re all coming out here to do good work. And that’s a valuable thing. But some groups do more good work than others.” 

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On a blustery afternoon in November, Sarah Ogletree made tea and reflected on her experience coordinating relief efforts among churches with different social values and priorities. Ogletree lives in Bakersville and has spent more than a decade working at the intersection of faith and environment — a role that has included bringing congregations throughout the region into the fight for climate justice.

Ministries and churches have many reasons to feel called to serving others in times of crisis, she said. She pointed out that the Bible commands it in Matthew 25: “For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.” It’s a verse that many denominations take as an instruction from Christ to help the poor and oppressed. 

“It’s that identification with those who are marginalized or who are in need. And I think different traditions within Christianity understand that passage differently,” she said. While some see their role as filling this directive through volunteering and community service, others see it as a way of bringing people to God. Some of the more evangelically minded organizations take the lessons a step further, believing that people are more reachable and more receptive to hearing the Gospel during a disaster — a point Fritz Wilson, who leads Southern Baptist Disaster Relief, has made in the past. “Meeting a family’s physical needs with practical help starts their healing process, which leads to a sense of hope that things will be better,” he has said. “This gives us the opportunity to share a different type of hope that is only found in a relationship with Jesus.”

Ogletree has been working with Baptists, Methodists, Presbyterians, Mennonites and other denominations to secure money, building supplies, and other necessities for her neighbors while following her vision of Christian service that overcomes ideological and denominational boundaries in times of crisis. She sometimes worries that faith-based organizations focus too much on “the pitch” — evangelizing and converting —  to their detriment, alienating survivors who just want a roof over their head. “I wish more churches showed up in communities simply to be a loving presence,” she said.

Even as a religious person, she’s not always sure how to navigate that post-disaster dynamic, recalling an instance in which an organization that arrived from out of town with supplies asked to pray before delivering them. “It felt like it was the currency with which this transaction was allowed … like, it’s free, but you gotta pray with me. And that felt unfair.” The prayer, she said, was sweet, but she found the encounter difficult to process because she knew the prayer was meant to comfort flood survivors, not surprise or shock them. 

“Helpers that come into crisis situations, whether you are faith based or religious or not, you have a lot of power in that situation,” Ogletree said. “And you are dealing with people that have just been through something super traumatic.”

Not all interactions are transactional, of course, and some people truly are there only to help. For many people in the region, the support of church volunteers and local parishes has anchored them in these hard times.

Ogletree’s experiences working with churches in the wake of Helene has been largely positive. In helping people through their trauma, she’s found the kind of community she’s long dreamed of building, one that overcomes political fractures to assist people in need and meet them where they are. In the South and Appalachia, the church is not only an essential part of many peoples’ social life, but a trusted source of information and direction, making it particularly effective at disaster response. “They’re at the front lines,” Ogletree said. “People know where they are.” She dreams of ensuring churches have backup generators, solar power, even Expo markers and whiteboards, to be better prepared for next time. Because there’s always a next time.

That’s a point Zach Dasher, pastor Gordon’s son, made back in September as he preached to congregants still reeling from the devastation Helene brought. It is not unusual in such times for people to struggle with faith, and he clearly hoped to set their minds at ease. “Why all the evil in the world,” he asked. “Why all the natural catastrophes and devastation. Where is God in that?”

His answer provided congregants with a framework for understanding what had happened to them. “The kingdom of God is here,” he said. “Everything we build can be washed away. Everything can be gone, wind and water can wash it away, picking up whole houses and soil. But the kingdom is far more durable and eternal than that. The Kingdom of God cannot be shaken.”

Before ending his sermon, he asked his flock to please treat volunteers from out of state with kindness and respect, and expressed hope that those with damaged homes would take time to rest and let the helpers do their work.

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline Faith organizations have a complex relationship to disaster relief on Dec 23, 2024.

This post was originally published on Grist.

This story was originally published by St. Louis Public Radio.

Early on Election Day, highways in the St. Louis area were inundated with water. Over several days, intense storms battered Missouri, bringing six to 10 inches of rain — record-breaking amounts for November.

The flash flooding killed at least five people, including two elderly poll workers whose vehicle was swept from a state highway.

Mayors along the Mississippi River have watched for years as intensifying rain storms and flooding wreak havoc on their communities.

Take Grafton, Illinois, which escaped Election Day flash flooding but suffered $160,000 to $170,000 in damages from a heavy rain event in July. The town’s main intersection was blocked with logs and debris, and the storm blew out a water line and left streets in need of repair.

But Grafton never received a federal disaster declaration and was not eligible for assistance from the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA). Instead, it paid for road and water-line repairs through its Department of Public Works’ annual budget. As a result, the city could no longer purchase new trucks for snow plowing this year, as it had planned.

“What it means is that we’ll limp through another year, keep the vehicles running,” said Grafton Mayor Michael Morrow, who oversees the $1.2 million annual budget for the small riverfront city of about 600.

River communities have suffered repeated losses. But federal disaster funding can take weeks, months or even years to pay out. Traditional insurance programs are tied to property and require proof of loss for a payout, which can be burdensome and lengthy to assemble. 

So this fall, the Mississippi River Cities and Towns Initiative (MRCTI) announced a new insurance pilot, with hopes of better helping river towns recover. 

MRCTI, which represents 105 cities along the 10 mainstem states of the Mississippi River Basin, is working with Munich Re, a German multinational insurance company, to create the insurance product. 

The resulting pilot will test a novel type of insurance pool — called parametric insurance — that is designed to rapidly fund emergency response after natural disasters such as flooding. 

Pilot will test usefulness of new “parametric” insurance policies

The likely cause of intensifying rainfall and floods is human-caused climate change, according to the Fifth National Climate Assessment, a scientific report created every four years for the United States Congress and the President, to help explain the impacts, risks and vulnerabilities associated with a changing global climate.

In 2019, communities in the Basin saw months of flooding, spanning across the Mississippi, Missouri and Arkansas rivers. Reported losses totaled almost $25 billion across at least 17 states, according to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration.

The central U.S. is emerging as a new flash flooding hotspot, according to research published in Nature’s Communications Earth & Environment journal. With its new role as a hotspot comes more disaster damage – and need for insurance that addresses that.

While conventional indemnity insurance requires insured owners to prove specific losses by amassing evidence and presenting pre-storm documentation, parametric insurance pays out quickly after agreed-upon “triggers” – such as wind speeds or river heights – reach a certain level. 

For the MRCTI pilot, Munich Re has suggested using watershed data from the U.S. Geological Survey to determine the best gauges along the river to measure flood depth. Once the river flooding reaches a certain depth, the payout would be triggered. 

Getting that trigger right is key, said Kathy Baughman McLeod, chief executive officer of Climate Resilience for All, a nonprofit focused on climate adaptation.

“You want to have sufficient understanding of how you set the triggers at a certain place and why,” she said. “There’s a lot of engagement necessary to get everybody on the same page about what the product is, how it works, what the trigger should be.”

The goal of Munich Re’s pilot program is to demonstrate in real-time how a parametric insurance payout policy would function in current insurance-market conditions and how swift payouts could better assist a city’s disaster response in the immediate days following a flood.

First, Munich Re will develop a mock-up of the insurance policy for one hazard – flooding – with the understanding that multiple hazards, like intense heat, or drought, could be added later, said Colin Wellenkamp, executive director of MRCTI, and, as of November 6, a newly elected state representative for Missouri District 105. 

The mock-up would calculate a range of premium costs and theoretical payout options that would be available for cities of varying sizes along the river. But the pilot won’t cost the cities a cent – and it won’t pay them anything either, until the pilot moves into implementation. It’s unclear which entities will ultimately foot the bill of the pilot and eventual product because it’s so early in development.

When Munich Re moves into implementation, individual city governments would hold the policies and receive payouts. Wellenkamp hopes to convince larger corporations that rely on a healthy and functioning Mississippi River hydrology to pick up the tab on the premiums, he said. 

Quick payouts could take burdens off cities

“In the first 24 to 72 hours after a disaster event, very little money can help a whole heck of a lot,” Wellenkamp said. “We use that time for evacuations and to move people out of additional harm’s way in the aftermath.”

But soon after the initial emergency response, municipalities start to look for funds for longer-term cleanup and repair. Under the current paradigm, that money can be hard to tap.  

In the spring of 2019, major flooding on the Mississippi inundated many communities, including Grafton, where the downtown partially closed and people were forced to evacuate. 

The Trump administration didn’t declare a major disaster until September of that year, months after flood waters had receded. It took until 2022 for federal money to reach Grafton, Morrow said.

“The former administration went through that flood,” Morrow said. “I’m the mayor now and I was getting some of the money that they had put in years ago.”

That wait places stress on a city’s finances, especially smaller ones like Grafton, Morrow added. 

Traditional insurance doesn’t always help either. Grafton has a flood policy but it only covers property owned by the city. Residents and businesses in the community would need to take out their own flood protection. The National Flood Insurance Program (NFIP), which underwrites many flood insurance policies, has various coverage restrictions. For example, NFIP doesn’t cover roads or wastewater infrastructure. 

The policies also require proof of loss before issuing a check because they cover specific damage, like to a particular building or its contents. This “proof” can take days to document, and longer to process, which delays how fast a local government can begin repairs. Without proper pre-storm documentation, damage can sometimes be nearly impossible to prove.

Parametric insurance – which works with measurable triggers and isn’t tied to documentable losses – could ease the process. 

Cities from the headwaters to the mouth of the Mississippi could buy into the policy, creating a pool that spreads out the risk that any individual community faces. 

“Not every city is going to flood every year, but the flooding will impact at least one section of the river,” said Raghuveer Vinukollu, head of climate insights and advisory for  Munich Re in the U.S.

The insurance pool would protect a town from the risk of ruin, and a more timely payout would increase the town’s resiliency through swift reinvestment in its infrastructure, he added.

Parametric insurance in the Mississippi Delta and beyond

For flooding on rivers, this kind of insurance risk pool is new territory, Vinukollu said. As climate risks become more extreme, the insurance industry is working with a number of communities to address their evolving needs, he said.

While parametric insurance is still developing, one early example stands out to Vinukollu—the Caribbean Catastrophe Risk Insurance Facility (CCRIF).

CCRIF pools risk for Caribbean countries, which face hurricane risks each year. By pooling risk together each island can receive a larger payout than if it had taken out an individual policy. 

In July, a mere 14 days after Hurricane Beryl devastated 90 percent of buildings and agriculture on the islands of Carriacou and Petite Martinique, the government of Grenada received its first payout from CCRIF to fund disaster recovery. 

The tropical cyclone policy paid more than $42 million to Grenada, the largest single payout from CCRIF since its inception in 2007.

In the Mississippi River Basin, Vinukollu hopes to apply this kind of shared risk pool to insure cities at risk for inland flooding. 

“The triggers are different, the perils are different, but the concept is the same,” said Vinukollu.

Given its position near the end of the Mississippi River, New Orleans is no stranger to the devastating impacts of extreme weather. Several city-run institutions, such as NOLA Public Schools, have taken out parametric insurance policies to protect important infrastructure. 

One of the first tests of these policies came in September when Hurricane Francine‘s storm surge, rain and winds pelted southern Louisiana. 

But NOLA Public Schools did not receive a payout from its policy with Swiss Re. 

While wind speeds were high, they were not high enough to meet the policy’s triggers of more than 100 miles per hour for one minute.

New Orleans is more likely to experience repetitive, severe losses from named storms than a city in the upper Basin, such as Minneapolis, so cities closer to the Gulf Coast may end up paying higher premiums once the policy officially rolls out, said Wellenkamp, of MRCTI.

Cities that choose to cover more hazards or lower-level disasters may pay higher premiums, because it could result in more frequent payouts, Wellenkamp said. Ultimately, municipalities could still end up footing the bill for events like the July flooding in Grafton or the Election Day storms in St. Louis.

McLeod argues communities shouldn’t expect payouts from parametric insurance all that often. “Just by the nature of the product it shouldn’t [pay every year],” she said. “Insurance is for the worst of the worst.”

Munich Re advises that parametric insurance works best to complement – not replace – traditional insurance policies. But company officials believe that these new policies offer the chance for insurance to adapt to changing risk landscapes, as weather events become more extreme.

Despite its potential to facilitate faster disaster response, parametric insurance is no silver bullet, said McLeod, of Climate Resilience for All. 

The best solution to her is reducing the underlying risk from climate change. 

“The big picture is it’s a really important tool in financing and managing the risks of climate change, and we need every tool,” she said. 

But more than any new financial tool, McLeod said, the most effective financial step would be addressing the root causes of climate change, and building – or rebuilding – more natural protections, like wetlands.

“You’ve got to reduce the risk [or] you won’t be able to afford the insurance on it,” she said. “It’s not insurance if you know this thing is going to happen.”

The Lens’ Marta Jewson contributed reporting to this story.

This story is a product of the Mississippi River Basin Ag & Water Desk, an independent reporting network based at the University of Missouri. Disclosure: both the Desk and MRCTI receive funding from the Walton Family Foundation. Support our independent reporting network with a donation. 

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline Mississippi River towns pilot new insurance model to help with disaster response on Nov 23, 2024.

This post was originally published on Grist.

As climate change accelerates, hurricanes, wildfires and hail storms pound the U.S. with growing vigor—and the insurance market is struggling to foot the bill of the damages they leave behind for customers. 

In 2023 alone, extreme weather cost the U.S. more than $92 billion. And it’s not just home insurance providers that are hiking rates.

Now, car insurance quotes are reflecting trends seen across the home insurance market as climate change becomes an increasingly prevalent — and costly — factor.

This could spell trouble for car owners, experts say. Vehicles are a key means of escape during a climate-driven disaster, but they can also fall victim to floods and fires just as homes do.

Primary and secondary perils 

When Hurricane Helene whipped through the southern U.S. in early October, cars floated down streets like boats as flood waters submerged entire neighborhoods. Other vehicles were pulverized by felled trees or flying debris. 

Most car insurance plans cover flooding and these external damages to help people recoup some of their losses. The Palm Beach Post reports that since Hurricanes Helene and Milton, Floridians have filed more than 90,000 auto insurance claims.

The bad news is that increasing hurricane intensity is pushing insurance companies to raise rates to account for future payouts. And it’s not just megastorms that have the auto insurance market on edge, according to Andrew Hoffman, a professor of sustainable enterprise at the University of Michigan.

“We can talk about the big storms like Helene and Milton, but it’s actually the secondary perils that are causing more payouts. And that’s heavy rain storms [and] flash flooding that comes with that,” Hoffman told me. Other such perils can include hailstorms, droughts, and wildfires — all fueled by climate change. 

“It’s actually secondary perils that are really having a dominant influence on driving up insurance costs,” he added. 

An August report found that the average U.S. auto insurance policy could spike by 22 percent by the end of this year. That’s due to a number of factors, including inflation, extreme weather, and more cases of severe accidents or dangerous driving. The report finds that rates in California, Missouri, and Minnesota could go up by as much as 50 percent, and that “damage from severe storms and wildfires contributes to rising rates in the states.”

In 2023, insurance company Allstate threatened to stop renewing auto policies in several states until governments agreed to higher rates, The Wall Street Journal reports. The problem is much worse on the home insurance market. In March, my colleague Amy Green wrote about homeowners grappling with astronomical home insurance premiums in Florida, where climate shocks are upending the state’s entire real estate market. Florida now has the third-highest car insurance rates in the country as well. 

“A lot of the things that apply to the weather effects on home insurance also apply to the car that’s sitting in your driveway,” Hoffman said. 

Worldwide, only some of the cost of natural catastrophes is covered by insurance companies: Last year, insurers and reinsurers paid $95 billion of the $250 billion in economic losses, according to Munich Re.

Rippling market effects

After the recent back-to-back hurricanes, rental car agencies were inundated with customers waiting for repairs on their own vehicles. Those with totalled cars turned to local dealerships to find a new ride — but some of these businesses couldn’t dodge the storms’ paths of destruction, either. For example, one dealership in New Port Richey, Florida, lost an estimated 672 vehicles during Hurricane Helene. Though the business’ cars were insured and the manufacturer sent new ones to meet demand, the dealership’s owner said he will have to pay roughly $3.5 million to cover deductibles. 

Demand and prices for new and used cars often surge after hurricanes. So does the risk for scams, experts say. A recent report from auto data company Carfax estimates that as many as 138,000 vehicles experienced flood damage across six states during and after Hurricane Helene. The company warned that thousands of these vehicles will likely be bought and cleaned up by fraudulent salespeople, who target customers unaware of the lingering internal damage, the company says. Similar scams occurred in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina in 2005. 

“After cleaning up the cars and moving them across the country, these scammers will try to lure unsuspecting buyers into thinking they’re getting a great deal,” Faisal Hasan, the vice president for data at Carfax, said in a statement. “These cars may look showroom fresh, but they’re literally rotting from the inside out.”

Last week, Illinois Attorney General Kwame Raoul issued a warning for consumers that these flood-damaged vehicles could soon enter the state’s used car market because they are “often shipped to places hundreds of miles from areas hit by storms.” 

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline Climate-fueled extreme weather is hiking up car insurance rates on Nov 2, 2024.

This post was originally published on Grist.

Hurricane Milton made landfall on Wednesday night, near Siesta Key, Florida, as a Category 3 storm, bringing ashore 120 mile-per-hour winds, heavy rain, and as much as a 10-foot storm surge into regions of the state still reeling from the impacts of Hurricane Helene just two weeks ago. By Thursday morning, Milton had crossed Florida and was headed out to sea, its hurricane force winds intact. 

“First responders have been working throughout the night,” Florida Governor Ron DeSantis said at a press conference on Thursday morning. “The storm was significant but, thankfully, this was not the worst-case scenario.”

While the state broadly avoided catastrophe, Milton still hit Floridians hard. In some coastal communities, floodwaters rose nearly up to second-floor levels, spurring dangerous middle-of-the-night rescues. Powerful winds ripped roofs off buildings — including Tropicana Field in St. Petersburg — and left more than 3 million homes and businesses without power. Farther inland, as much as 18 inches of rain fell in just a few hours, representing a 1 in 1000 year event. In the hours preceding landfall, the storm also kicked up roughly two dozen tornadoes across the state, one of which officials say hit a retirement community. At least six people died in the storm, and some 80,000 ended up in shelters. 

“We have flooding in places and to levels that I’ve never seen, and I’ve lived in this community for my entire life,” Bill McDaniel, the city manager of Plant City told The Guardian, calling it “absolutely staggering.”

Floridians were still cleaning up debris and damage from Hurricane Helene when Milton formed in the Gulf of Mexico. Fueled by near record-warm waters from a waning El Niño and climate change, the storm jumped from a Category 1 to a Category 5 with 180 mph winds in just 24 hours — one of the most rapid intensifications in history. Forecasts originally had the storm’s northern right side, also known as the “dirty side” of a hurricane, hitting Tampa, which would have funneled water straight up the bay into one of the lowest-lying cities in the United States. The hurricane weakened slightly, however, and came ashore a bit south, which not only avoided the most dire flooding possibilities, but actually sucked water out of the bay.

“Do not walk out into receding water in Tampa Bay,” the Florida Division of Emergency Management, or FDEM, warned on X. “The water WILL return through storm surge and poses a life-threatening risk.”

The region’s back-to-back hurricanes represent the compounding disasters that scientific models have predicted will become more frequent with climate change. They also come at a time when the Federal Emergency Management Agency is running out of money and staff. As Milton approached, more than 40 congressional Democrats wrote to Speaker of the House Mike Johnson, imploring him to reconvene the chamber to vote on additional funding for FEMA. Johnson has previously said he won’t take up the matter until after the November 5 elections — a month from now.

At Thursday morning’s press conference, officials continued to urge caution across the state. Rivers could still flood, roads remained impassable, and debris was abundant. They also warned residents to be careful as they began to clean up, as downed lines and other hazards could be extremely dangerous. 

“We do not need Florida Man and Florida Woman out there cutting random lines as they go,” said Kevin Guthrie, the executive director of FDEM. “Let our crews get out there and get everything back up and running.”

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline After Milton, Florida assesses damage from back-to-back climate disasters on Oct 10, 2024.

This post was originally published on Grist.