their home along the North Shore of Harrington Sound, they waged a 24-hour battle to keep their lives from literally disappearing with the storm. This is her story. While the rest of the Island is breathing a collective sigh of relief, perhaps no one is exhaling quite as loud as those in the East End.

Although not quite St. George's or St. David's (ground zero for Hurricane Gert), living near the perpetually ill-fated (when it comes to hurricanes) John's Smith's Bay in Smith's does provide me with some great hurricane experience -- and Gert was no different. If there is anything I have learned from Hurricane Gert, it is to never-ever plan to do major renovations during hurricane season. Not only was my yard littered with potentially hazardous materials like cement blocks and pieces of wood, my roof was partially exposed to the elements. This roof, which is perched on top of a hill, has a dismal history when it comes to hurricanes -- over 65 percent of it blew off during Hurricane Emily. And last Saturday this partially exposed roof allowed the weekend's rain to flood my kitchen with over 50 gallons of water. So just days before the onslaught of Gert we faced the awesome task of somehow getting this roof fit to face the storm. After spending two days trying to secure some of the Island's most precious commodity -- slate -- we were lucky enough to find a fearless soul who was willing to brave the elements to secure our roof. At this very moment retired Sgt. Major Larry Brangman is the greatest man in the world to me -- right up there with Nelson Mandela, my father and my husband, Wayne. Despite howling winds, no lights (our power went off at 9 p.m. Monday night) and with a completely inexperienced skeleton crew consisting of myself, my husband and in-laws -- Mr. Brangman precariously perched himself on the top of the roof and installed two rows of slate. Now, I am quite proud to say, my husband and I can add to our resume that we possess the awesome ability to mix mortar in a wheel barrel in complete darkness. And we also could start our own high-wire circus act starring my husband -- who is now extremely proficient at balancing himself at dizzying heights in the midst of high winds and pounding rain. With a lot of luck, (there were several times when I truly believed that my husband was born with a rabbit's tail as part of his anatomy), the entire roof of our home was covered with a massive sheet of tarpaulin. With just over 12 hours before the hurricane was due to make its closest approach and no guarantee that Mr. Brangman's last-minute efforts would save us from massive flooding, we set about water-proofing our home. Within hours the house became an environmental faux-pas as everything that had any contact with the floor was wrapped in plastic sheeting. After already losing a kitchen ceiling over the weekend to pre-Gert rain I was determined to salvage as much of my prized possessions as humanly possible and set about at a frenzied pace. It is amazing what the human spirit (mixed with a healthy dose of fear and delusion) can accomplish -- by candle-light -- in a couple of hours. By the wee hours of the morning all of the furniture was covered, clothes stuffed into plastic bags and vital documents like passports and the all-important home-insurance certificates stored in waterproof hard-shell luggage. Sandbags were also strategically positioned in the corridors of our home to prevent water from flowing any further than it had to -- which would have been a moot point if our roof has actually blown off, but at the time it seemed to make a lot of sense. Finally, as Tuesday morning dawned, we had done all we could humanly do to protect the house and at last attempted to get some rest -- yah right! For some strange reason everything seems magnified in the darkness -- the wind seemed to howl louder, the windows rattle stronger and the roof creaks more ominously -- did I mention the roof creaks more ominously?. With dawn light we discovered our first casualty of Hurricane Gert, one of our two tarpaulin was dancing in the wind, meaning that our hastily thrown-together slate and wood beams were only one plastic sheet away from facing the elements. By 11 a.m. we were outside doing battle with the wind for possession of the last tarpaulin, a fight which was eventually won by Gert who simply overpowered us with brute force. With a survival bag waiting at the front door, in case we had to make a hasty retreat, we just sat on the floor and waited. Minutes seem like hours when you have no electronic means of entertainment. Luckily we were kept busy by constant running to and fro to see if the open windows were holding up from the pressure of the wind. On several occasions our sliding door, which faces due north, vibrated ominously, however like most things that age well, it graciously accommodated Gert by curving every so slightly. So great was the pressure whirling around my hillside abode that I thought my head would surely explode, putting me out of the misery of watching my roof go south in the storm. But as with all good stories, this one has a happy ending. My roof stayed intact, the wood beams of our addition stayed together and Mr.

Brangman's two rows of slate kept the rain at bay. By 6 p.m. we were able to breath a sigh of relief and thank the Man above for our good fortune. When it comes to Mother Nature, I would rather be lucky than rich any day! PHOTO Passing storm: (Above) Staff at C-Mart on North Shore Road, Pembroke, left a plea to Gert when they boarded up their store Monday night. Motorists (top right) had to pick their way through downed trees near John Smith's Bay while Johhny Barnes (below) remained undaunted by the storm -- he took up his usual post on Tuesday morning at the foot of Crow Lane. Surging waves whipped up by Gert took a toll on Stonington Beach's seawall (bottom left), while Swiss visitor Rebecca Hugger (bottom right) took in nature's fury from her refuge at the Stonington Beach Hotel.