Heart Racing, Winds Whipping

3:00pm

It's only 3 p.m. Central time Monday and yet it feels like Tuesday. When I left you last night, it truly was the calm before the storm. As I expected, I could hardly sleep. It seemed too calm. Every half-hour, I sprung up waiting for loud noises. I was told by one hurricane veteran to take a shower before going to bed and then fill my bathtub with water in the event that power went out. The remaining bathtub water could be used for bathing if all else failed.

We woke up at 2:30 a.m. Central time. Slept for about three hours. Read a little more about the progress of the storm and then got into place at 4 a.m. central time. The crew here had to put together a mini miracle to get our paths up to our satellite truck and link into New York as the storm winds were beginning to brew.

I had no idea what to expect. When we started our live shots at 4 a.m. the sky was pitch black and the streets were empty. We found a corner outside our hotel on Bourbon Street to interview local guests, National Guard members and business owners.

I must admit, I was extremely touched by Col. Jonathan Ball of the 256th Infantry Brigade. He and a couple members of his team joined us first thing in the morning to update us on the pre-hurricane plan. Not only is he a veteran of the National Guard and a terrific spokesperson for the Guard, but he was just like any one of us. In a conversation that we had off-camera, he told me about his son who had "just been pinned" -- meaning he just became a police officer -- ironically, just this past Thursday in New Orleans. Ball's son was out on the streets patrolling at the same time that he was standing there with me.

Ball talked about a local phrase used to describe their attitude toward hurricanes -- "lagniappe." (It's pronounced "lan-yap.") It's a saying that people in Louisiana use that means "a little something extra." We Googled the term and here's what we found. "A 13th roll in a baker's dozen. Something thrown in, gratis for good measure," according to Mark Twain in Life on the Mississippi. As he explained it, we don't sweat the small stuff. We're not concerned with material goods. How refreshing!

The day brought many twists and turns. Standing at the corner of Bourbon, we felt wind gusts up to 50 miles per hour. It was intense. The rain and winds were very strong. Not as strong as I heard or expected, but enough to get warnings from the hotel and National Guard to step back into the hotel. We were soaked. My jacket  and my boots held up, but my pants were drenched. Not unexpected.

At about 9:15 or 9:30 Central time, I was joined by Doug Blackmon the Atlanta Bureau Chief for the Wall Street Journal. He is one of the best-known journalists who covered Katrina and its aftermath, and he arrived here again several days ago to cover this hurricane. When he joined me this morning, he was the first to tell me about the overtopping on the Industrial Canal. He said that was the biggest area of concern. As you may recall, during Katrina the breach of the Industrial Canal caused the massive flooding that led to multiple levee breaks and major damage to the lower Ninth Ward.

At just about that time, we lost BlackBerry connection and communication with one another and New York. The city started to lose power at about 6 a.m. Central time, but our means of communication became problematic hours later. One of the things about a hurricane is the loss of power and satellite coverage. For us, the only way to communicate was through text messages and land lines. In fact, for the local residents who remained in their homes, we became their only source of information. The press through our connection back to New York and other bureaus helped us learn about problem areas throughout the city.

At 11 a.m. Central time, we made the decision to go to the Industrial Canal levee. We sent our cameraman Ben and producer Karen ahead to get the lay of the land. When they gave us the all clear, we left our hotel in the French Quarter and drove through the upper Ninth Ward to meet them at the Clairborne Bridge above the Industrial Canal levee.

That drive was horrible. I can remember only one other drive in my life -- a snowstorm -- that scared me more. The streets were empty, the winds were ferociously shaking our car, and trees were falling in front of us with power lines down. It was the first time I panicked.

By the time we got to the levee at the Industrial Canal, my heart was racing and the winds were whipping us around. We first went under the Clairborne Bridge, which didn't seem like a wise move in case the levee broke. We moved to the top of the bridge, which protected us from the levee but made us more susceptible to huge gusts of wind. Honestly, I was really frightened. Probably the most frightening TV hit that I've ever done.

We then jumped back in the car and drove around the upper Ninth Ward. Our insane and brilliant cameraman Ben filmed me talking about about what had happened to the neighborhood while driving. Not recommended, but he drove very slowly. The pictures told the story. Trees, massive trees, split in half, roofs shattered, couches in the street, National Guard trucks everywhere. The sight of those trucks was both terrifying and reassuring. I will never forget those images.

On our way back to the hotel, four of us sat in the car in silence. It was not intentional. We were each digesting the moment in different ways. Our heads were spinning. As we exited the St. Claude Avenue Bridge above the Industrial Canal connecting the upper and lower Ninth Ward, we drove through the lower Ninth Ward before realizing that we had gone in the opposite direction of our hotel. As expected, it was very sad. The reminants of Katrina were still very much apparent. I had never seen the area in person. It reminds you how lucky you are.

It's now the afternoon, and we're all a little wiped out. The storm was much better than anyone anticipated. The levees are still at risk as the second surge of the storm may bring more wind gusts and rain this evening, but the initial signs suggest the city averted a disaster. A sigh of relief for many who live here.

The bad news is, if this storm were any stronger, the levees could have broken. I am no expert, but I'm guessing the people at the Army Corps of Engineers who are responsible for protecting and rebuilding those levees are holding their breath even at this time.

The city is by no means out of the woods. The high tide is at 1:30 a.m.

Tomorrow morning, we will really know what happened during Hurricane Gustav.