Hurricane MELISSA. Incredible power. Perhaps the mightiest hurricane of the 83 I've witnessed By Josh Morgerman
Oct 30, 2025
An aerial view of destroyed buildings following the passage of Hurricane
Melissa in St. Elizabeth, Jamaica on October 29, 2025 My
location (Crawford, a tiny beach town in St. Elizabeth Parish, Jamaica)
took the full force of the inner right eyewall and may have seen the
peak winds in this historic, record-smashing hurricane.
First
pic: as it started to get scary. Bone-rattling gusts were making roofs
explode into clouds of lethal confetti. The grand palm tree out front
was starting to bend obscenely—in a way I found unnatural.
Second
pic: after we bolted the door shut because it was getting too dangerous
even to watch the storm. (I'd randomly ended up in the hotel's kitchen
with a local family.)
The
hurricane's inner eyewall was a screaming white void. All I could see
through the cracks in the shutters was the color white—accompanied by a
constant, ear-splitting scream that actually caused pain. (Notice the
woman in the pic holding her ears.) The scream occasionally got higher
and angrier, and those extra-screechy screams made my eardrums pulse.
Meanwhile, water was forcing in through every crack—under the floor and
between the window slats.
I
remember shuddering at the thought of what was happening to the
town—what this screaming white void was doing to people, homes,
communities.
My
fears were well-founded. The impact in this part of coastal St.
Elizabeth Parish is catastrophic. Wooden structures were completely
mowed down and in some cases swept from their foundations. Some concrete
structures collapsed. The well-built ones—like my hotel—survived, but
even they had major roof, window, and door damage. The landscape has
been stripped bare—the trees just sticks. The roads are blocked with
rubble and utility poles.
Nearby
Black River—a unique old historical town right on the water—was smashed
beyond recognition: historical sites destroyed, main streets filled
with rubble, the town market twisted like a pretzel, even the regional
hospital destroyed.
It's
a good thing I wasn't in my hotel room during the storm because one of
the windows blew out, showering the bed with glass and wood. The hotel
lost most of its roof, and several third-story rooms were smashed open.
But in the lower flooors, those grand old concrete walls protected us.
And so far I'm aware of only two deaths in Crawford—a fellow who had a
heart attack at the school next door (his body was still in his car and
unclaimed the next morning, a sad and disturbing sight), and a woman who
drowned in the storm surge in Gallon Beach. While walking down the
devastated streets of Black River, I ran into the Jamaican Member of
Parliament for this region, Floyd Green. He's a great dude and I
appreciate that he already has a gameplan for turning this catastrophe
into an opportunity—to build this region back better. And I vowed on the
spot that I'm going to make it my mission to spread awareness of this
catastrophe and get that aid flowing in. I'll be talking about MELISSA a
lot over the coming months—because it is both a fascinating
meteorological event and a human disaster that demands an international
response.
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