Isolated and in the dark: my 40 hours in the first area hit by DANA in Valencia

To avoid the A-3 and the always congested V-30, roads converted hours later into a mousetrap, I agree with Alberto Caparrós, the ABC delegate in the Valencian Community, that the most prudent thing is to work from home and not go to the editorial office , located in the capital of Turia. The images of large waterspouts that flood the streets of the town – with around seven thousand inhabitants – and that I am receiving through WhatsApp groups confirm this. Also the story of family and friends who have encountered many problems on the different access roads to their workplaces in the surrounding area.

The situation is already unprecedented when the first intermittent power outages begin. One of them lasts almost two hours. In the pharmacy below my house they take out the water with buckets, while a man tries to rescue his vehicle from a flooded field. «I have entered all the places. “We were not prepared for this atrocity.”I write to the delegate. At four in the afternoon we lose mobile coverage. “The Chiva ravine has overflowed,” I managed to warn my colleagues around seven in the afternoon thanks to the apartment’s internet connection. We took the opportunity to notify my sister, who lives in another town, that we are all fine and sheltered at home.

The Magro River, as it passes through the Turís municipal area, has already carried away a highway bridge that connects the urban center – away from the riverbed – with an urbanization. Shortly after, the power goes out. In some areas it will not return until Thursday at noon.

To the fury with which the rain continues to fall, the wind is added. Night falls with the town completely dark and only illuminated by the rays that do not stop. The calls start with knocking on my neighbors’ doors, because the doorbell doesn’t work, to make sure everything is okay. Rummaging through drawers, my mother finds two flashlights and my father turns on a small battery operated radio. For more than forty hours, moving the antenna from one side to the other is our only way of understanding what is happening just a few kilometers away. There are no more images, only the radio story of the thousands of trapped people asking for help.

At 9:22 p.m., I receive an alert from Civil Protection on my mobile phone, which still has battery, warning me that the province is on red alert. On my parents’ terminals, the message and the accompanying beeps do not arrive until almost midnight, when the rain begins to subside.

I wake up on Wednesday morning convinced that I will be able to go to the newspaper office in Valencia, without knowing that access to the A-3 and many other roads is closed. Once again, the radio puts me in situation about the magnitude of the tragedy and the death toll in the metropolitan area of ​​the city. The dana had dealt us a first blow, but everything that had come after was beyond comparison. That’s where my concern begins. The sunrise allows us to open the doors of the houses wide and begin to value the damage, luckily, only material: flooded cars that won’t start, ground floors covered in mud after the water even comes out of drains… We make sure that my uncles don’t need anything. I meet a friend on the street who is unsuccessfully searching for gasoline to start a bilge pump in his flooded basement and many more acquaintances with the word ‘disaster’ on their lips.

Some houses without drinking water

Walking through the town, one understands the importance of having a net to fall into when everything falls apart. With the shops closed and without the possibility of cooking for those who do not have butane gas, scenes of neighbors exchanging containers, jars of preserves or day-old bread and making cross offers of anything they may need take place. Some houses, although few, do not have drinking water. Others already have light in the afternoon and I can charge my phone, with the battery dead for hours.

By word of mouth it begins to circulate that there is a point in the town with coverageright next to the health center. I go there with my mother with a flashlight because the night, once again, has made an appearance. Dozens of people wandered around in a circle looking for a signal. “What company are you from?” they ask each other, trying to contact loved ones. Through the brightness of the screens in the dark I can glimpse familiar faces that greet me with a hug that you don’t expect, but that suddenly becomes the most important thing.

After several attempts, and almost in a mountain area, the miracle was worked. The terminal begins to smoke as a Civil Guard helicopter combs the area. I receive more than a thousand messages lost in limbo, counting all the work groups on historic days, as well as the friends and family who want to hear from us. Although with cuts, I can talk to my boss and my sister. This contributed to less anxiety during the second night in the dark. The dinner menu is clear: it is urgent to use the food in the refrigerator to avoid more waste.

Early on Thursday, the line of people in one of the bakeries shows that it is one of the few establishments that does have electricity. Of course, no card payment, just like at gas stations. On the way to Valencia in the car, determined to lend a hand to the newspaper, I am even more aware of the disaster. He post-apocalytic scenario of the Pista de Sillaone of the main entry routes to the city, and the dozens of people walking along the roads going to affected municipalities to help put my feet back on the ground.

On the way, I recover coverage and tell my mother that everything is fine. You will read the message a few minutes later, when you get a signal next to the health center. With a lot of patience, I manage to reach the ABC newsroom, located in a building next to the city’s port, where life continues as normal. My boss is waiting for me there, who welcomes me with a hug to continue telling a historical tragedy.