"But the trail of Hilary took an interesting turn Sunday night..."

Southern California is putting itself back together after a historic hurricane, named Hilary, formed in the Pacific and slammed into the state. She was, by then, a tropical depression and maybe named something else but no matter as her terror was unleashed. Green waste trash cans brutally tipped over. Hedges kind of getting bent.

Disaster.

And as I was driving home, after potentially straining social services with an entirely ill-advised sail trip, dodging people driving 40 mph in the fast lane with their hazard lights on while the rain lightly sprinkled, I wonder if this was the center of the storm.

Meteorologists had thought the business might make first hit in Encinitas then travel east but mostly north. In truth, she touched ground in northern Baja then did cruise east and mostly north until Sunday night when… well, let’s let the Los Angeles Times take up this unfortunate tale.

For days, forecasters have tried to determine the path of Hilary as it morphed from a Category 4 hurricane in the Pacific Ocean to an exceedingly rare tropical storm that entered Southern California.

But the trail of Hilary took an interesting turn Sunday night, as the storm made a trek from the Inland Empire to the heart of Los Angeles.

The center of the storm went from being east of Murrieta in Riverside County at 5 p.m. to above Compton around 8 p.m., according to the National Hurricane Center.

Compton, as anyone who watches movies or listens to music knows, is a culturally rich, predominately black community.

The Inland Empire features, mostly, U.S. Open of Surfing attendees.

Racism?

Hard to say but science is science.

More as the story develops.

Red at night, sailors a-fright.

As you are undoubtedly aware, what was once a category 4 hurricane, yesterday, made historic landfall in California. Hilary be her name, destruction and vengeance be her game. Governor Gavin Newsom bravely declared a state of emergency, Los Angeles and San Diego school districts cancelled school. The Soho House, downtown Los Angeles, cancelled a Sunday evening soiree and coffee shops throughout Orange County put signs on doors reading “closed due to weather.”

Headlines across all major media implored people to “shelter in place” and “avoid dying.”

I was accidentally on a sailboat heading to Catalina with my two very best friends. The same very two with whom I was lucky enough to survive post 9/11 Yemen, war-ravaged Beirut, early days of Covid-19 Paris.

This brazen and selfish ignoring of common sense, potential strain put on “the system,” outrageous irresponsibility was not, as in times past, on purpose but only accidental as the trip had been planned for a week and you know how tough schedules can be to change these days.

We had been tracking Hilary, spinning off the Baja Peninsula, when we left Newport Harbor Saturday afternoon. Reports were calling for nearly unnavigable five foot seas and nearly unimaginable 18 mile per hour winds for Sunday.

We pressed on.

The Pacific was near oil glass, the sky lightly cloudy when we hoisted the mainsail and unfurled the jib. A steady breeze pushing us along at a decent 9 knots. We spoke of books and ate Italian sandwiches for lunch, arriving at Avalon in the late afternoon.

The harbor was empty.

We called the harbor master and he informed us that it was, indeed, closed, no mooring balls to be had, and that restaurants were likely closed too in preparation of the storm of the century. We thought of anchoring but had left our dinghy in Newport and if no restaurants were open it would be pointless anyhow.

Stress grew as we only had one more Italian sandwich to split between the three of us and dinner was fast approaching.

The call was made. We would return to Newport and sort out a meal.

The return trip was quick, a steady breeze for the first three-quarters, dying entirely as Fashion Island came into view. The sky turning a brilliant salmon as dolphins leapt, striking terror into the hearts of all.

Red at night, sailors a-fright.

Near the mouth of the harbor, we decided to motor to the public dock, tie off and walk to Restaurant A as we were really hungry and it would be quicker. The time was, roughly 8:30. It was open, we were seated immediately and ordered a butterleaf wedge salad, ceviche tostaditas, 22 oz bone-in ribeye and Atlantic lobster tail, all for sharing.

We washed it down with a Moscow Mule.

Afterward, we returned to the boat, motored back up the harbor to the mooring, fixed the lines then fell asleep on the deck.

At 3:00 am I felt a raindrop on my head and moved below.

It rained all night.

In the morning, we all woke up and it was still raining. We cleaned up then rowed across the channel right as Hilary, then a tropical depression, made its historic landfall.

Foolish jerks.

The end.

Should they stay or should they go?

The horrible tragedy on Maui, wildfires chewing through large swaths of the western side of the island, burning historic Lahaina to the ground and killing over 100, is still unfolding. Families suffering, lives forever altered, paradise strained. In the days after the fire, which sparked to life on August 8th, Maui residents and those on neighboring islands pleaded with tourists to change their travel plans and not visit.

“Maui is not the place to have your vacation right now,” Hawaiian actor Jason Momoa declared, adding, DO NOT TRAVEL TO MAUI. Do not convince yourself that your presence is needed on an island that is suffering this deeply.”

The sentiment remains for many, days, on, but others are feeling the strain as tourist dollars account for the bulk of Maui’s economy.

“We’re really in pain, but I have no trouble with a customer coming in with a smile on their face,” Panna Cappelli told NBC News. She had art gallery on Front Street in Lahaina and the work of some 200 local artists were all destroyed but she also has three other galleries on the island that remain open and in need of customers.

“Come to Hawaii, but also respect what is happening,” said Maui resident Jon Baker, who owns and operates a rental car business near the normally bustling Kahului Airport. “If you don’t see the typical aloha, it’s only because people are hurting and grieving,” he added. “We rely on tourism. We need it.”

Air travel to Maui has dropped by 80% since the fire.

“It’s a fine line. It’s a fine balance,” said Ilihia Gionson, spokesman for the Hawaii Tourism Authority. “At the end of the day, for those people who want to be working, we want to make sure they can be working. What we don’t want to see is people losing their homes and then losing their jobs.”

“(Not coming to Maui) is the wrong message,” said Maui-based wedding photographer Tara Lee Murphy. “We want to keep working to keep Maui open. We don’t want Covid 2.0.”

And on it goes.

But do you have an opinion on the matter?

Team Momoa or Team Tourist?

More as the story develops.