On a windy pier in Deerfield Beach on Monday morning, it was hard to tell that a monster hurricane was a little over a hundred miles away ravaging the island of the Bahamas.
Sure, there were ominous gray clouds overhead and waves crashing against the sand. But that only seemed to excite the people gathered.
People like Alik Kalashinkov.
“The day right before the storm and the day right after the storm are some of the biggest swells,” Kalashinkov said with a grin. He stretched in the sand, his surfboard next to his toes.
Since Kalashinkov moved to Florida in 2001, he’s been surfing every storm to hit South Florida. He recalled Irma, back in 2017. “That was fun,” he said. “I got some good waves.”
Kalashinkov said he was aware of the destruction Hurricane Dorian was ravaging on the Bahamas not far away. He woke up earlier in the morning to videos on Instagram of the storm and the way it chewed up houses and cars.
“It looks like there is no Bahamas left,” he said.
Deeming it still safe enough to trek out in Deerfield early Monday, he took advantage of the waves and getting at least three hours of surf in. “We don’t get much waves here in Florida,” Kalashinkov said.
Kalashinkov was one of a couple dozen surfers braving the waters on Deerfield Beach.
Most of the people gathered there kept to the sand, such as Nelder Paveo and Jackie Moreno.
The pair walked slow, stopping to shoot pictures of the water and the curling sky.
Paveo said they live down the street from the beach.
Together they have survived Hurricane Wilma and Katrina, but Dorian would be their first Category 5. Still, Paveo said he didn’t expect anything more than some rain and heavy wind.
“It’s going to go away,” he said. Then he paused and looked out at the water once more. “I hope so.”
Standing farther from the sand, and back on the boardwalk where people strolled as businesses and homes that were shuttered up was Carla Manna. She just moved to Deerfield Beach from Ocean City, Maryland. She said that the preparation by the state has calmed her nerves a bit. But just a bit. “I’m still nervous,” she said. “I guess we’ll see what happens.”
The wait-and-see attitude seemed pervasive, even in areas where the storm is projected to impact with strong winds.
The streets were all but empty in Stuart, but business was booming at Charlie’s Neighborhood Bar & Grill. Every parking spot was filled, mostly with pickup trucks.
“We have generators and beer,” the sign welcomed.
Unlike some towns in northern Florida that shut off alcohol sales for the storm lead-up, it was flowing freely at Charlie’s, motto: “No working during drinking hours.”
A “weather station” sign summed up the situation: “All conditions are ideal for drinking!”
“This is a hurricane party,” Thomas Johnson said with a beer in his hand. The bar was packed, and country music blared.
Dre Yepes said he came to the bar after securing his home with shutters — on top of impact glass because he was “trying to keep from being stir crazy.”
The weather is expected to worsen, and “might get pretty gnarly here,” he said.
After the storm, he said he and co-workers at a trucking company will help people clean up.
“We’ve got to help each other out. It’s in the Bible, right? You’ve got to take care of your neighbor.”
Meanwhile, water lapped over the docks at Palm Beach Yacht Club in West Palm Beach.
A group of about 10 people in northern Palm Beach County leaned on a combination of beer and running to blow off hurricane anxiety.
The group is known as the Hurricane Hash House Harriers and since Hurricane Andrew, they have gathered in the hours before hurricanes strike for a five-mile run through declared evacuation zones. At checkpoints along the way, the runners stop to chug a few beers before continuing on.
Some, like Hay Kanojo, wore a colorful beanie cap with a small propeller attached to it.
Kanojo said similar harrier groups exist all over the world and mentioned one in Hong Kong that only runs before Category 8 typhoons. “It’s pretty exciting,” he said.
It seems that many people were looking for a reprieve from Dorian, which has made a slow approach toward Florida for days, teasing the state with its strength and proximity.
About 1 p.m. on Monday, the waves on Palm Beach began to pick up and crash against the barrier walls along State Road A1A. Not far from the area was Mar-a-Lago, which was shuttered up and bare aside from one security guard walking the grounds.
In West Palm Beach, water lapped over the docks at Palm Beach Yacht Club.
Greg Albritton, yacht captain for the presidential yacht Honey Fitz, said water was rising from king tides before the storm grew close. He said waters have risen that high in decades past.
He didn’t put shutters up “yet,” he said, and was waiting to see if the storm would turn.
“If it hit here it would completely devastate this town,” he said. “It could not handle a Cat 4 or Cat 5.”
