'What a shock.' Storm soaks Cambria woman's garage — and she doesn't have flood insurance

Feb. 2—What a shock early Jan. 27 as I watched the water level rise in our home's garage!

It was bad enough that the incoming runoff — from the start of a massive storm that would drench the North Coast in up to 18 inches of rainfall — was soaking things stored by our garage door.

The muck was spreading faster, closer, to the inside of our home.

I didn't panic. I couldn't. No time for that.

Son Brian couldn't help, not with a recent surgical incision on his foot, still too sore for a waterproof boot and too vulnerable to infection. Who knew what evil things were lurking in that ugly water?

I remembered that, after the 1995 flood, rescuers who'd waded through chest-high waters wound up with poison oak from plant oils floating in the water in some mighty uncomfy places. No, Brian. Stay put.

As the water continued to rise, I immediately tossed every absorbent rag and old towel I could reach onto the encroaching water to sop it up and build a futile dam.

I called 911 and kept trying to hold back the deluge until Cal Fire Capt. Monte Phelps and his crew arrived like the cavalry, on a red truck rather than a white horse.

They identified the problems — a clogged French drain across the front of the garage and a ton of runoff flowing down our driveway from the streets above us.

They shoveled out the drain and dug a quick trench to divert as much of the rapidly rushing water as possible. It would then flow down the side of the house onto our own meadow of more than an acre. We hoped.

The firefighters had to leave to help on the next of dozens of emergencies that would be handled by Cal Fire and Cambria Fire Department squads, utility crews and and San Luis Obispo County and Cambria Community Services District personnel during the monumental, multi-day storm.

But with continuing torrential rain, it seemed Cal Fire's efforts had only delayed the inevitable.

The water level was rising again in the drain.

I still couldn't panic, not when I still had to:

— Get the water out of the garage somehow before it did real damage;

— Enlist incredible, back-breaking help from Richard Greek, our former neighbor and amazing "fremily" member (beloved blend of friend and family);

— Get more help from our skilled landscaper friend Mike Rice and a bunch of sandbags,

— And I was working! This was a news day, a big one in a series of three.

The panic? That hit when I remembered that we don't have flood insurance.

I'm sure I wasn't the only one in that leaky emotional boat.

We hadn't thought we'd need the insurance. Our home is about 450 feet above sea level, close to the top of one of the highest developed hills within the urban area of Cambria — not by the shore or in a flood plain.

But when our hilly, forested town gets that much rainfall in that short a period of time, it doesn't all soak into the ground. The soil simply can't absorb that much, that fast, even as dry as the ground has been for months.

What water doesn't soak in, runs off. Sometimes a lot of it, swiftly, into places where it's not supposed to be.

This time, it flowed down to our garage.

Eventually, I had enough time and available brain cells to call my insurance agent.

No, we didn't have flood insurance, and the agent wasn't sure that was what we needed.

It's confusing. Because we're not in a flood zone, she said, if the insurance is available to us, it wouldn't be as expensive as for somebody, say, in the 100-year-flood zone in Cambria's West Village. That's good.

But it all depends on the insurer's definition of "flood," which she said, technically, must cover two acres or more.

In a "roll-off," which flood insurance doesn't cover, water isn't rising and flooding your property and one next to you. She added that mudslides and landslides are another category entirely.

Huh?

As of midday Jan. 29, our agent was still trying to figure it out and checking to see if our policy has water seepage coverage. Just in case.

Fortunately, this time, we didn't need any of the above.

We're OK. But our incident could have been so much worse without our cavalry of caring rescuers ... and a whole bunch of muddy towels.

I'll be doing laundry until Valentine's Day, but that's better that than dealing with a drenched home, as our friends Diane Tappey and Ingrid Turrey are. Our hearts go out to them and everybody else who dealt with their own storm-related incidents and damage.

And maybe, someday, we'll have that insurance. Whatever it is.

___

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