This week, the people of Florida are trying to survive Hurricane Milton. How on earth did America’s first European settlers react to the violent storms, excessive heat, and tremendous cold that continent endures?
Many pioneers travelled across the Atlantic from my home county of Somerset. It’s generally low-lying land, well-watered by wet south westerly winds blowing in off the Bristol Channel. Grass grows well, which makes it good dairying country. The sort of people who produce Cheddar cheese and cider prefer a quiet life to shocks and danger. Most of the time Somerset is a peaceful, beautiful place, but once or twice the weather has sprung some surprises.
The Bristol Floods
On 30th January 1607 (the same year the Virginia company established Jamestown), the Bristol Floods killed 2,000 people. A storm surge forced water up to fourteen miles inland. Across south Wales and the west of England a huge amount of farmland was inundated, and thousands of animals were drowned. Floodwaters reached a depth of five feet in Kingston Seymour. Someone chiselled a mark on the church wall at the highest point the floodwater reached. It stands twenty-five feet five inches above sea level.
The Great Flood of 1968
Three hundred and sixty one years later, on 10th July 1968, another terrible disaster struck Somerset. After days of heavy rain, an enormous thunderstorm broke over the valley of the River Chew. In the village where I was born, it rained so hard it was impossible to see more than a few feet ahead. Over five inches of rain fell in twenty-four hours.
On a normal July evening it’s light in England until nearly ten o’clock. On that evening in 1968 thunderclouds made it unnaturally dark, while constant lightning turned the sky a sickly greenish yellow. We lived a safe distance above the river, but water barrelling off the surrounding farmland swept into our house. Luckily it only reached a depth of a few inches. Others weren’t so lucky. The usually peaceful little River Chew soon broke its banks. People living near the river took refuge on the upper floors of their houses, or on the roof. Many had to be rescued before their houses were washed away.
Water draining from the surrounding hills added to the falling rain. The water level rose very quickly. The dam at Litton, twelve miles south west of our village, held back a huge amount of water, fallen trees, cars, and debris.
…And Then It Got Worse…
Just before 10pm the dam gave way. With a huge explosion, it sent a wall of water downstream. The flood engulfed the village of Pensford, tearing Bridge House in half and wrecking many other properties. Floodwater picked up cars parked in the village, and carried them downstream.
The two bridges in my home village were much bigger and stronger than the Pensford bridges. Even so, the storm surge wrecked them both. It was many months before life got back to normal along the Chew valley. You can find out more about The Great Flood of 1968 here.
The River Chew flood wasn’t on the same scale as a hurricane or twister but it was awful enough. Although the valley wasn’t very densely populated at the time, the disaster killed seven people. Over £10m (about $13m) of damage was done, which at today’s prices would be about £217m ($284m).
2024 has been an exceptionally wet year here in England. Today has been the first day without any rain for a long time. We lost some tiles in a storm earlier this week which caused the roof to leak but compared to what the population of Florida are going through, that’s nothing.
Let’s hope the rest of the autumn turns out to be less eventful than the first few weeks. I’m going to retreat to my office and do some writing in the warm and dry.
Stay safe, everyone.
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