Less than two weeks after the worst storm in a century pummeled Tampa Bay, residents Monday steeled themselves for another colossal blow — this one with potentially more devastating consequences.
In a matter of hours on Monday, Hurricane Milton intensified from a Category 1 storm to a Category 5, packing 180 mph winds as it crept diagonally at about 10 mph across the Gulf of Mexico.
It is expected to make landfall along Florida’s Gulf Coast late Wednesday, according to the National Hurricane Center, walloping an already battered coastline with up to 15 feet of storm surge.
Landfall is predicted somewhere between Naples and Cedar Key, with the Tampa Bay region roughly in the middle of the forecast cone.
As one-two punches go, it almost doesn’t seem fair. A Tampa Bay Times analysis determined that Hurricane Helene was the region’s worst in more than 100 years, fueled by once-in-a-lifetime flooding.
Now here comes Milton, feeding on the warmth of the super-heated gulf waters like a famished vampire. Forecasters worry it could rival the most destructive hurricanes to ever make landfall, packing jaw-dropping winds and dramatically higher surge levels.
It also threatens a direct hit on the Tampa metro area for the first time since 1921. In the time that has passed, the population of Hillsborough and Pinellas has grown 20 times over, now home to 2.5 million people.
“Helene was a wake up call. This is literally catastrophic,” Mayor Jane Castor said on CNN Monday evening. “I can say this without any dramatization whatsoever: If you choose to stay in one of those evacuation areas, you are going to die.”
On streets across Tampa Bay, still lined with uncollected shards of wood, storm-soaked couches and muddied mattresses, weary and exhausted residents shifted from recovery to preparation mode.
The game plan this time was clear.
“Get the hell out of there,” said Frank Pirelli, a resident of Treasure Island. “It is going to be a horror.”
Pirelli stuck around for Helene and his elevated home flooded. Now, less than two weeks later, he didn’t give evacuating a second thought. Monday afternoon, he was already on his way to his sister’s house.
Pirelli was not alone. State officials prepped for the largest evacuation the state has seen since 2017′s Hurricane Irma.
An already exhausted region once again found itself preparing, packing, planning, evacuating, crying, bracing, fretting and fearing the all-but-inevitable destruction that lies ahead.
Weather forecasters can be an unflappable and hardened bunch. But Milton’s dizzying growth overwhelmed one South Florida meteorologist.
“I apologize,” John Morales said, choking back tears on live TV. “This is just horrific.”
A historic forecast
On Monday, President Joe Biden signed an emergency declaration for Florida to facilitate emergency assistance.
Gov. Ron DeSantis said the state had marshaled fuel supplies, power utility crews and ambulances. Hillsborough and Pinellas counties have canceled classes through at least Wednesday. Pasco has closed schools through Friday.
Tolls were suspended along evacuation routes and buses in Hillsborough and Pinellas were offering free rides.
The baseball diamond of Tropicana Field is now filled with rows of cots as the stadium becomes a staging site for workers tasked with tending to the tumult ahead.
Across Tampa Bay, lines were long Monday as residents kicked their preparation into high gear. At grocery stores, gas stations, sandbag collection sites and rental car pickup locations, the lines were long and slow.
Milton was about 650 miles southwest of Tampa as of 7 p.m., according to the National Hurricane Center.
Hurricane Helene inundated communities from St. Petersburg’s Shore Acres to the beaches to Tampa’s Davis Islands. Across the region, again and again, people said they’d never seen water so high.
Milton is poised to be worse – potentially double what Helene unleashed.
“This is the storm of the century,” Tampa Police Chief Lee Bercaw said Monday, as his officers went door to door, asking people to evacuate.
Mandatory evacuations were ordered in A, B and C zones in Pinellas and Pasco counties. Hillsborough ordered people to leave in zones A and B. Residents in mobile and manufactured homes were urged to get out regardless of their zones.
St. Petersburg may shut off two of its three sewage plants ahead of the storm, leaving 66% of city residents unable to flush toilets or shower for at least 24 hours.
In low-lying Gulfport, police were driving around with bullhorns telling residents to leave.
In Pasco County, officials who had just days ago lamented that residents were being complacent about going to shelters during Helene, saw an uptick in interest ahead of Milton.
By Monday afternoon, Pasco shelters were filling. Nearly 250 people had checked in to River Ridge High School, and more than 200 at Fivay High School.
Though some space remained at the initial group of five shelters, the county announced it would open another on Tuesday morning at Sunlake High School, anticipating greater turnout.
Preparation underway
From Tampa to New Port Richey, Largo to St. Petersburg, harried preparation came against the backdrop of existing destruction as residents dig themselves out from under Helene’s devastation.
Debris remains on sidewalks and yards across Tampa Bay as Milton approaches — now at risk of becoming projectiles, said Rick Davis, a meteorologist with the National Weather Service’s Tampa Bay office.
People searched for hotels far from flood zones and cars to take them there.
Grocery stores sold out of water and gas stations ran out of fuel. Lines of tired drivers snaked around the block at pumps not yet dry.
Tampa International Airport bustled with frenzied travelers rushing home and residents rushing far from it. Flights will depart Tuesday until 9 a.m. as the airport prepares for lashing winds and rain.
Fifty-eight jet bridges must be chained down. Planes must be cleared from the airfield. Cars in the bottom level of the economy garage are being towed to higher ground.
Similar scenes played out at St. Pete-Clearwater Airport. Hundreds waited in line to pick up rental cars.
Behind the desk at Enterprise, an employee caught her breath before taking the next customer. She lives about five miles away, she said late morning, firmly in the area that might see the worst of Milton’s impacts. But she was scheduled to work until 4 p.m. and hadn’t yet thought much about her preparations.
Bumper-to-bumper
The car rental industry is already overwhelmed.
Many Tampa Bay drivers remained stranded after Helene pounded vehicles with salt water and debris.
“My whole house is gone,” said Vicki Donohue, dabbing her eyes as she stood in line for a rental car in St. Petersburg. “My car is gone, too. That’s why I’m here.”
Twelve days earlier, Helene walloped her Shore Acres home. She had waited in her home as water rose to her knees, then to her waist. Soon, it was past her shoulders.
“It’s the most scared I’ve ever been,” Donohue said in line. “I can’t live through that again.”
Now, she needed a rental to drive to her son’s home in Atlanta.
By late afternoon Monday, traffic crawled across the Howard Frankland Bridge. The state opened the shoulders to ease the flow, but north and eastbound vehicles still sputtered along the interstates.
Bumper-to-bumper traffic extended well inland, traffic inching along roads carving through Florida farmland. Families filled cans with diesel and bundled animals into trailers, driving in search of higher ground.
Times staff writers Max Chesnes, Romy Ellenbogen, Justin Garcia, Jack Evans, Sharon Kennedy Wynne, Divya Kumar, Emily L. Mahoney, Tony Marrero, Lawrence Mower, Shauna Muckle, Ivy Nyayieka, Lauren Peace, Jack Prator, Zachary T. Sampson, Teghan Simonton, Jeffrey S. Solochek, Dan Sullivan, Christopher Spata, Langston Taylor, Shreya Vuttaluru and Colleen Wright contributed to this report.
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