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National Geographic: Cyclone! (1995)

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National Geographic: Cyclone! (1995)

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This is the bottom of the ocean

- an ocean of air as vast and

volatile as any sea.

Above the earth's surface,

currents ebb and flow.

Some spiral into whirlwinds.

The dust devil has more bluster

than bite.

Other twisters are downright

deadly.

Tornado on the ground

on highway 44!

Damage everywhere.

We've got numerous people

injured!

Get away from the windows!

Tree just blew over!

Get away from the windows!

Get away! Get away!

Tornadoes pack the fastest winds

on earth.

But in magnitude,

this spinning giant goes unmatched.

Hurricane, typhoon, cyclone

all equally fearsome.

By any name,

the greatest storms on earth.

Severe tropical storms afflict

every continent except Antarctica.

In this century, they have claimed

over half a million lives.

Tornadoes have k*lled over 10,000

in the United States alone.

Today, electronic eyes pierce

the atmosphere,

and map its shifting winds.

Scientists chart the anatomy

of a storm.

Their sensors record speed and

bearing.

Make yours the same level

as the tripod.

But none can predict the birth

of a k*ller.

That thing's a right mover!

We gotta get out of here, fast!

Let's go!

Nothing in our power can stop the

fury of Nature's whirling winds.

Early spring, 1991.

A southern sun heats the waters

of the Gulf of Mexico.

Warm, moist air rises,

and travels northwest,

over Texas, Louisiana,

and on

toward the central United States.

More than a thousand miles away,

cool dry air rushes south

from Canada.

Rising over the Rockies,

dry upper level air flows east,

then spills onto the Great Plains.

These forces collide over Tornado

Alley on Friday, April 26th, 1991.

Fast winds high above the ground,

over slower winds below,

make the air roll horizontally,

like a pencil on a table top.

The atmosphere is unstable.

Thunderstorms erupt across

the plains.

Here and there, an updraft lifts

the horizontal spinning of the air

into a vertical position.

Now the storm rotates as it feeds

on warm, moist air near the ground.

The day gives rise to "supercells"

- the most complex and dangerous

thunderstorms on earth.

Their underbellies bubble with

instability.

Lightning and hail are the least

of their threats.

Under the right conditions,

they can also spawn monsters.

The National Weather Service

has tracked the warning signs

for a week,

predicting severe weather.

By April 26th, conditions are

text-book perfect

for a major outbreak of tornadoes.

Throughout the afternoon and

evening, across the central states,

fifty-six twisters are reported.

Honey, be careful.

Is it going away from us?

Honey.

Honey.

Is it going away from us?

I sure hope you're right.

Then, at 5:57

a k*ller touches down in Kansas.

In Wichita,

residents are sitting down to dinner

when warnings send them running

to basements and storm shelters.

Look at this stuff

floating in the air, Ginger.

Take cover!

Around 6:20, the tornado takes

on a pinkish hue

as it pulverizes a nursery full

of geraniums.

By the time it hits McConnell Air

Force Base,

the twister is nearly

The base hospital, school,

rec center

and over a hundred housing units

are leveled.

the town siren fails,

but most residents heed warnings

by police, and news reports.

The tornado's funnel has widened

to almost 600 feet.

At 6:40, it tears through the

Golden Spur Mobile Home Park.

The twister finally dissipates

northeast of Andover.

Within minutes, its parent storm

drops another funnel

along the Kansas Turnpike.

Can you get in the left lane, Greg?

Yah!

I'll like you know this go away.

You're okay, you're okay.

Keep going', man.

Keep going'.

Faster?

No.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Lots faster.

Lots faster!

A local TV crew tries to outrun it.

Lots faster, Greg.

It's catching us.

You gotta go buddy!

Even at 85 miles an hour,

they can't get out of its way.

They stop at an overpass

where a father and his two

daughters run for cover.

As the twister spins out its

final moments,

a dread calm takes its place.

We need some place to sit down.

Along the turnpike,

people are pulled from trucks and

cars tossed like children's toys.

Andover is hardest hit.

In what was the Golden Spur

Mobile Home Park,

ten bodies are found.

Is anybody in there?

Kansas bears a bitter toll:

over 1,700 homes destroyed

or damaged, and 20 dead.

Survivors will never forget.

The car was hovering.

It was about three foot

off the ground,

and just sort of floating

in the air.

Then all of a sudden the car left,

and went right out the roof.

What looked like typing paper

floating around was really not,

it was like Garage doors.

Garage doors and window

frames, parts of houses.

Ambushed on a country road,

Brook Ibarra took shelter under

the nearest tree.

In a flash, she was airborne...

then dropped a thousand feet away.

The cows all of a sudden started

running like a stampede.

I was picked up by the tornado

and there was all sorts of debris.

One thing I remember was the cow

that flew past me.

He was screaming.

And then, before I knew it,

it was over.

I was just laying in the field

next to a tractor engine.

Wounds are healed.

Neighborhoods rise from the rubble.

The human spirit endures.

Such is life in Tornado Alley, USA.

Midwesterners once called them

"cyclones".

Early photographs

and motion pictures held viewers

spellbound.

Tornadoes begat their own myths.

Some claimed they fused coins

in people's pockets,

and cooked potatoes in the ground.

In truth, they make airborne

missiles of everyday objects.

Some have deposited heirlooms

forty miles from home.

Do they pluck feathers from

chickens?

No. Blame that on sheer fright.

They inspire no less terror

in people.

April 3rd and 4th, 1974.

In the largest outbreak on record,

March 18th, 1925.

The deadliest tornado in history

leaves the longest path.

Until the 1950's, accurate tornado

wind speeds remain a mystery.

Then a frame-by-frame analysis of

this footage clocks flying debris

at 170 miles an hour.

Tornado science takes a leap

forward in 1953

when Dr. Ted Fujita leaves Japan

for the American Midwest.

Main reason why we are here

is to find out what tornado did.

And in case of future tornadoes

what people should do.

That's the kind of thing

we want to find out.

Four decades of research will earn

him the title "Mr. Tornado."

I think it's a grain elevator

up there.

At disaster sites, Fujita proves

there's much to be learned without

braving a twister directly.

He likens tornadoes to criminals

who leave their fingerprints

behind.

Ground markings are clues

to a twister's inner structure

and dynamics.

To test his theories,

he builds a tornado machine

at the University of Chicago.

He discovers that

most strong tornadoes

are actually several small twisters

rotating around the center

of a larger one.

These mini-tornadoes can lay

waste to one house,

yet leave its neighbor unscathed.

Fujita's ideas have been amply

confirmed in Nature,

and remain a cornerstone of

tornado science.

Although they occur

around the world,

three out of four tornadoes streak

the skies over the United States.

They favor the springtime, and the

warm hours between noon and sunset.

We say a tornado "touches down".

It actually sucks in air from

near the ground

and carries it upward in a spiral.

Most range from 150 to 1200 feet

in width,

and travel over land at about

The funnel is often hollow,

a tube of condensed water vapor

that takes on the color of dust

and debris.

In North America, most tornadoes

rotate counterclockwise.

Perhaps one in a thousand spins

in the opposite direction.

Twisters appear in many guises.

They can bring to mind

the snapping of a bullwhip...

or the delicate dance of ghosts.

A single storm can spawn several

distinct funnels

- a grouping referred to as a

"family."

For all their fury,

most tornadoes are short-lived.

Many last only minutes.

To the scientists who would study

them, they are elusive prey.

How to penetrate the twister's

secrets?

Aiming weather balloons and

instrumented rockets into tornadoes

have yielded limited results.

All right. Three. Two. One.

Fire!

There! Perfe...

No.

In the 1980's, researchers at the

National Severe Storms Lab

tested the "totable tornado

observatory", nicknamed TOTO,

after Dorothy's dog

in The Wizard of Oz.

This four-hundred pound package

of sensors

was to record what no human can

even approach

without risking life and limb.

But predicting the path of a tornado

proved to be nearly impossible.

TOTO had one close call,

no direct hits.

For now, the safest way to see

inside tornadoes

is to probe them from afar with

Doppler radar.

Like an x-ray of a storm,

the system displays wind speed

and direction.

In 1981, scientists first detected

the spiraling signature of

a tornado on Doppler radar.

Today, the system is used to

issue warnings to the public.

Still, we're not exactly sure

why twisters form at all.

For Howard Bluestein,

Professor of Meteorology

at the University of Oklahoma,

there's only one way to find out.

Satellite pictures are nice.

Radar pictures are nice.

But you need to look out the window

and see the clouds at a

very very fine scale

to get a feeling for

what's happening.

I don't understand

how one can study a phenomenon

without actually experiencing it.

Seeing it or feeling it

or tasting it.

To me, that sets everything

in motion.

That makes me want to understand

why it's there,

what causes it,

what's gonna happen to it.

They just issued a tornado warning

for right where we are.

Every spring, Bluestein exercises

two considerable talents:

chasing tornadoes, and measuring

them with the latest technology.

Portable Doppler radar is like

a meteorological magnifying glass.

It allows Bluestein to measure

wind speed in very fine detail,

in specific regions of a tornado.

Okay, we better get going quickly.

That thing is starting to form

a nice funnel.

Actually, hold it.

Hold it. Hold it!

Can you turn it on?

It is starting to form a funnel

and it's not that far away.

I'm on the left side of that

tight circulation.

Bluestein's success rate is

better than most storm chasers'

The funnel cloud is just

to our north, northwest.

We're packing up the radar...

He estimates one

in nine expeditions ends

with an encounter.

OK, tornado is crossing the path

of the radar.

Debris in the air.

Strong tornadoes almost always form

under the southwest edge of a storm.

Bluestein plots his course

accordingly,

and tries to place his team roughly

two miles from touchdown.

Center it right on the funnel!

Oh, what a classic!

Should I go to FM?

Only if you have a good CW signal.

We're detectives.

We're looking for lots of bits

of evidence.

And the more pieces of evidence

we have,

the more likely it will be

that we'll be able to solve

the puzzle of why tornadoes form

and what's their structure.

April 26th, 1991.

Bluestein and his team track

the outbreak

that will ravage Andover, Kansas.

A spectacular funnel stops them

in Red Rock, Oklahoma.

Their Doppler radar will capture

the fastest windspeed on record:

nearly 280 miles an hour.

In the heat of the chase, even

Bluestein can miss a beat.

Let's get out of here fast,

let's go!

For less frenzied fieldwork,

Bluestein turns to these hunting

grounds: the Florida Keys.

August, 1993.

The National Oceanic and

Atmospheric Administration,

and the National Geographic

Society

reunite Bluestein

with Dr. Joseph Golden,

expedition chief scientist.

As a graduate student,

Bluestein once joined Golden to

explore the skies over Key West.

This expedition marshals

state-of-the-art scientific

and photographic technology.

The quarry?

A phantom twister that haunts

these tranquil waters.

In 1967, on a vacation trip,

Golden took a sightseeing flight

over the Florida Keys,

and had a chance encounter with

one of our atmosphere's most

startling apparitions.

Since that time,

he has become the world's leading

expert on waterspouts.

Our knowledge of these ethereal

ribbons was once based largely

on mariners' accounts.

Golden first emphasized their

similarities to tornadoes.

Though usually smaller than a

twister over land.

They form in gentler weather

than most violent tornadoes,

allowing close inspection.

Smoke flares will help visualize

airflow near the sea surface.

For Bluestein, this is an

unparalleled ringside seat.

When we're out in the great

plains looking at tornadoes,

we cannot see what's happening

right at the ground very clearly,

nor can we see what's happening

at cloud base extremely clearly.

The perspective that we get

from the helicopter

in that we can look down

at the sea surface...

and see the effect of rotation

at the ground level

and also be at cloud base

and practically kiss...

the condensation funnel

that's right outside the window

is really spectacular.

Ultimately, the ghostly waterspout

may reveal the hidden forces

that trigger tornadoes.

Joe, I guess climatology works.

That was incredible!

Other whirling winds demand a

more lofty vantage point.

Book a seat on the Space Shuttle for

the perfect view of these monsters

- over 500 miles wide,

and some ten miles high.

Creatures of the sea,

they breed in the warm oceans of

the tropics.

Depending on their birthplace,

we call then 'cyclones',

'typhoons', or 'hurricanes'.

These giants can stir up

more than a million cubic miles of

the earth's atmosphere every second,

and travel across an ocean at up to

Yet they have humble beginnings.

In the summer and fall,

the sun heats vast stretches of

tropical ocean

to over 82 degrees Fahrenheit.

Warm, moist air rises over these

hot spots,

forming bands of thunderstorms.

Upper level winds push storm

systems westward,

as surface winds spiral into the

low pressure beneath the clouds.

Occasionally,

one such spinning wheel

of thunderstorms gathers strength,

feeding on moisture and heat.

When winds reach 74 miles an hour,

a hurricane is born.

The storm's architecture is

highly organized.

Rain bands up to 300 miles long

converge in the most violent sector:

the "eye wall".

Here, winds of up to 200 miles

an hour spiral upward.

Within the "eye", down drafts of

dry air create an eerie calm.

Most severe tropical storms spin

out their lives,

uneventfully, in the open sea.

When one threatens to come ashore,

the world's eyes are trained upon it

- including those of Jim Leonard.

A professional storm chaser,

Jim checks forecasts religiously.

He prowls the globe for weather

that most people would simply flee.

Among chasers, Jim has few peers.

Some say he has videotaped more

severe storms than anyone on earth.

He has no formal training,

no college degree in meteorology.

Just a life-long passion.

When I was ten years old

I had my first real hurricane

experience with Hurricane Donna.

We got probably winds of 80,

It was quite an exhilarating

experience at that point.

People think I'm crazy but, that's,

you know, that's their own opinion.

It's not gonna change.

I've always been crazy about storms,

I always will be.

The best of them all, probably,

was Hurricane Hugo,

went down to Puerto Rico

and got a direct hit.

And as it got stronger and stronger,

debris was starting to be

lifted off the parking lot,

and it looked like it was gonna

get blown back toward us.

So we decided at that point to start

going down the stairway.

As we're going down the stairwell,

the rain is being driven into the

walls through the stairs,

coming down the stairway.

And the wind you see up here

squealing.

At this point it's probably

in excess of 150 miles an hour.

And that was quite an experience.

It was like, one of the chasers

called it the Hallway from Hell.

I have no reason to be in a storm

if it's gonna scare me.

I'll, y'know, get to the point,

y'know, y'know, play the safe route

as far as I can.

But if I want to get that

ultimate shot, y'know,

of course you're gonna take

some chances.

Now is this a piece of wind

or is it a piece of wind?

Really! I wouldn't miss a great

eye wall like this for anything.

Jim and a fellow tracker have

a close call

as Omar's eye wall comes ashore.

Now the storm's placid eye

engulfs them.

It seems over, it really does,

but it's not.

We're gonna get blitzed again.

It's so eerie. I know.

I can't believe that

we're going to get blitzed again.

It seems impossible.

That was flabbergasting.

The unsettling lull does not last.

Here, the trailing edge of the

eye wall rushes in,

with winds blowing in the

opposite direction.

God, I didn't... no way!

It looked like it was gonna wait

a few minutes!

It wasn't comin' on as fast.

Yeah! If I knew it was this,

I would've hurried more.

In 1991, Jim achieves a

personal best.

Typhoon Yuri, when it came,

approached

the southern part of Guam,

I did a little bit of

carelessness there

but I got the storm surge shots

that I always wanted to get.

The water came up a little faster

than I thought it would.

Winds and low pressure allow the

sea surface to rise

near the storm's eye.

When it hits land, this mound of

water rushes ashore.

That's what you call storm surge!

Great.

Oh, great!

When the surge is waist-deep,

Jim retreats.

He, more than most, knows that

a hurricane's most deadly weapon

is not wind, but water.

Nine out of ten hurricane victims

are drowned by storm surges.

They can raise tides more than

twenty feet above normal,

and flood a hundred miles of

coastline under ten feet of water.

Fifteen percent of the world's

population live at risk

from severe tropical storms.

Atlantic hurricanes as*ault

the U.S., Mexico and the Caribbean.

Typhoons born over

the western Pacific Ocean

batter Japan, China,

and the Philippines.

Mostly deadly are the cyclones

that strike Bangladesh.

Here, millions farm a river delta in

places only inches above sea level.

Escape routes are few.

Loss of life has been appalling.

In a single 1970's storm,

over 300,000 dead.

Of all the atmosphere's threats,

these giants should hardly catch us

off guard.

Weather satellites track them

from birth.

But no technology can predict

exactly where one will go.

To penetrate

the hurricane's secrets,

researchers ride a flying laboratory

into the eye of the storm.

David?

Yes, sir.

We're gonna go in at 10,000 feet.

At ten, No?

Yeah. We're playin' it safe.

Looks impressive, anyway.

We have about 15 miles to the

beginning of the wall here.

External sensors

measure temperature,

air pressure, humidity,

and wind speed

as the plane braves the turbulence

of the eye wall.

We've got a hundred

knots of wind, now.

I thought it might drop off

but it hasn't.

Not yet.

If it hasn't by now

it probably won't.

We may see some 200 knot gusts here.

Okay, we're just coming into

the edge now.

An oasis of calm

over nine miles tall,

the eye is virtually clear

from sea to sky.

You guys see the center

down below there?

I think we're just about

directly over it.

Looks good, looks good.

I think we got the center.

OK, I'll mark it.

The eye's exact location

and vital statistics

are sent to forecasters on shore.

Data also flows to this

meteorological think- tank,

the Hurricane Research Division,

in Miami, Florida.

What global ingredients determine

how many hurricanes are born

each year,

and what paths they follow?

Stanley Goldenberg, research

meteorologist,

says clues range from the El Nino

phenomenon to rainfall in Africa.

He crafts computer models

based on the premise

that an organized piece of weather

like a hurricane

can be defined

in mathematical terms.

The atmosphere is an orderly

universe.

There's physical rules, physical

laws that govern these things.

It's just a matter of having

the right data,

looking at it with the right tools

and the right analyzes.

I mean, the real art is pulling

the information out of the data.

Goldenberg helped refine one of

the models

the National Hurricane Center

uses to issue forecasts.

But he had never experienced a

hurricane on the ground until 1992.

On August 17th, Tropical Storm

Andrew takes shape,

about halfway between Africa

and the Caribbean.

During the following days,

the storm slowly intensifies.

Then, high level winds begin to

tear Andrew apart,

slowing its momentum.

It's slower.

It's the slowest one.

Three days puts it here.

So by four days...

To Goldenberg, and most other

meteorologists,

Andrew has only the slimmest chance

of ever becoming a hurricane.

Friday, August 21st.

As high level winds die down,

Andrew begins to reorganize,

and quickly gathers strength.

Computer models show Andrew might

head toward southern Florida,

but Goldenberg and his colleagues

dismiss any immediate threat.

Stan leaves work early, to prepare

for an important weekend.

His wife Barbara is due to deliver

their fourth child on Sunday.

Andrew's winds exceed 74 miles

an hour on Saturday, August 22nd.

Hurricane warnings in effect

for Dade and Brown Counties.

Hurricane watch in effect...

The first hurricane

of the Atlantic season is born.

By noon on Sunday, massive

evacuations are ordered

along the Florida coast.

Sunday afternoon.

Right on schedule, Barbara has been

in labor since around 6 AM.

Here we have from the hurricane

to the other action in this room.

Which is Barbara going through

early stages of labor.

Four centimeters contracted,

going through labor pains,

In the birthing suite,

Stan videotapes the proceedings

with all the fervor of an

expectant father.

Still, the meteorologist in him

can't help but be distracted.

And we still have, waiting

for the hurricane.

Beautiful skies. Calm.

You'd never know what was going

to happen here

in the next 12 to 14 hours

or so.

Late in the day,

Andrew's winds accelerate to

a hundred fifty miles an hour.

Traveling nearly due west,

it descends upon the Bahamas.

Around 6 PM,

it strikes Eleuthera Island,

packing a storm surge 23 feet high,

taking four lives.

Having a boy makes you feel like

a father

and having a little girl makes you

feel like a daddy.

Stan steals a few hours with new

arrival Pearl,

then leaves the hospital.

He'll ride out the storm at home.

In Miami, violent skies herald

Andrew's approach.

Inland, residents take routine

safety measures.

Seven miles from shore,

Stan and his boys are joined by

his sister-in-law and family.

Sunday, 23rd of August.

We have the family here:

Jonathan, Daniel,

Roger, Benjamin, Joseph,

Aaron, Ruben.

We have Ann.

And we're gonna weather it out

through the storm.

Say hi, Daniel.

Hi

In the dead of night,

Andrew suddenly intensifies as it

approaches the tip of Florida.

August 24th, around 4:30 AM.

Andrew comes ashore.

Our TV's out, maybe the power's out

for the duration of this.

You can hear that outside...

You'll start hear

the rule outside.

In the hallway of the Goldenberg

house.

Winds outside,

I think, are at least a hundred,

hundred and ten miles an hour

or more...

Arie, are you OK?

It's okay, it's OK.

And there is the cat...

And there is...

every body here?

Just waiting it out in the hall

because we lost the plywood

on the front window

The rear plant gate would

probably layers.

And we are sitting back here

resting in the Lord,

In the hall way.

We can feel our ears

possibility cut?

pressure drops.

Yes, Johnson.

Lord we thank you and ask for

your protection.

This is Stan, at 8:30

in the morning.

We have been through a night.

This is our street,

trees down everywhere.

The back street is a history

in front of me...

just one window broken

on that car.

Trees down everywhere.

These are our sweet precious

neighbors

These shadows survive the storm

every window cover

with these type shadows survived.

But our house, which had wood

shutters, the roof lifted off.

and as you can see,

we have no house.

This wall fell on us, containing

the refrigerator, the stove.

This is the wall, fell on top of us,

the stove down there,

the cabinets, all fell on top of us,

and that small space you're

looking at,

the mattress and everything,

that's where we were pinned during

the worst part of the storm.

Incredibly, three adults, six

children and a kitten emerge,

unharmed, from the wreckage

that was Stan's home.

The scope of the disaster

has not yet dawned on Miami.

At the hospital, Barbara rests

assured that her family is safe.

We will perhaps get the first look

at what's going on, up in the air.

The hospital had an emergency

generator,

so we still had power.

And we saw all of the first footage

of this destruction and storm,

and we were in shock.

The first areas they went through

they were kind of relieved,

saying, "Oh..." and just making

interesting comments

about how this car is thrown here

and there.

But they became much more sober

as they went farther south.

It did not look possible that

anybody could be alive.

And that was just a mile or

two from my house.

And at that point, I really

felt despair.

One two, three, four, five, six,

seven, eight.

And there must have been about,

oh, let's say,

counting and trying

to estimate

at least three to four hundred

mobile homes here.

The rest are just completely gone.

In the morning, my wife finally

got through to somebody there

just to find out that I was okay,

somehow we both had a peace,

that each of us was okay.

But I still remember the

first time,

I got through to her on the phone,

I just wept.

I mean it wasn't just the excitement

of me getting through to her,

as me pouring out the emotions

of what I'd been through.

I mean, we'd been through an

incredible experience.

Andrew's storm surge wreaked

havoc along the Florida coast.

But its winds devastated an area

larger than the city of Chicago:

some 135,000 dwellings damaged

or destroyed.

The homeless numbered 160,000.

It seemed miraculous only 44 died.

Not one official wind gauge

survived Andrew's peak winds.

No one knew

how fast they had gusted.

Intrigued, Dr. Ted Fujita

"Mr. Tornado"

flew to Miami to study the

aftermath.

Roofs ripped from homes.

Trees snapped in half.

Concrete beams carried hundreds

of feet.

Plywood embedded in a tree trunk.

Fujita finds evidence of winds up

to 200 miles an hour.

But his most startling finding comes

from aerial surveys

with local meteorologists.

They point out narrow streaks of

total devastation

near areas with lesser damage.

To Fujita the patterns are

eerily familiar.

He develops a theory:

that the worst damage in Andrew

was caused by "mini-swirls":

tornado-like rotations, brief but

violent, embedded in the eye wall.

The theory has personal meaning

for Stan Goldenberg.

We never expected the kind

of damage we experienced.

Not only were we

in the areas of

some of the maximum areas

of the storm,

we had in addition, we believe,

an area of more intense winds

probably caused by the mini-swirls

that Ted Fujita talks about.

There was a strip,

right through my house,

of homes that were devastated,

and I was right in that strip.

Stan would relocate his family to

a new house.

Parts of Florida remains scarred

to this day.

Andrew also ravaged the Louisiana

coast, taking 17 lives.

Finally, the storm would vanish

over the mid-Atlantic states,

some two weeks after its birth.

Andrew was America's costliest

disaster.

But it had a silver lining.

It spared New Orleans,

a city defined by water.

Repeatedly flooded and drained

over the past three centuries,

the metropolis was built

on swampland

surrounded by

the Mississippi River.

Shaped like a bowl, the city's

terrain rises near its edges,

and dips in its mid-section to

below sea-level.

Lake Pontchartrain crowns its

northern shore.

Over a hundred miles of levees

and flood walls up to 20 feet

above sea level

keep river and lake at bay.

Massive floodgates fill the gaps.

New Orleans has one of the best

drainage systems in the world,

powered by 21 colossal pumps.

The city has known hurricanes in

this century,

but not a direct hit from a storm

like Andrew

- and not with up to a million

people to evacuate

over narrow bridges and causeways.

Former Meteorologist-In-Charge

of the New Orleans National

Weather Service office,

Bill Crouch fears the levee system

provides a false sense of security.

It's a two-edged sword,

because it protects the people's

homes most of the time.

But if water ever comes over

the levees,

it's going to get as deep as

the levees are tall.

And the lake would be 19

or 20 feet deep.

This means that in parts of New

Orleans that are below sea level,

the water could be 30 feet deep.

That is you would not be safe

even in a three-story house.

So, those are the scenarios

we look at,

which would force people to go

upward in the buildings down town,

and even using that refuge,

it's my belief there would

still be a great loss of life.

One day, five, perhaps fifty

years from now,

a hurricane like Andrew might

descend on New Orleans.

The city might be jammed with

tens of thousands of tourists

- oblivious to the dangers of

hurricanes.

Evacuation would be ordered,

and many would heed the call.

But advance weather could move

in quickly

and flood the causeway,

knocking out bridges.

A hurricane approaching

from the southeast

could fill Lake Pontchartrain

with its storm surge.

Water would rush over hurricane

protection levees.

Pumping stations would be

overwhelmed.

This grim scenario may be imaginary,

but the threat is not.

A hundred thousand might be stranded

in the heart of the city.

The city of New Orleans has

enlisted federal, state

and local emergency management

agencies

to prepare for

just such a nightmare.

There are many other potential

disasters along the U.S. coastline.

It is only a matter of time before

another great storm exacts its toll.

Nature has given us fair warning.

A gossamer veil of atmosphere is all

that protects us

from the sterile reaches of space.

What we call 'weather' is simply

the Earth's attempt

to balance heat and moisture

around the globe.

Swirling winds may spawn

tornadoes and hurricanes,

but they can also breed whimsy.

A hay devil on a summer

afternoon...

Our home is a planet perpetually

in the making, forever new.

The same awesome powers that sustain

life can also wreak destruction.

It is up to us to be prepared.

There lies the challenge,

and the delight,

of living on this dynamic Earth.