Florida residents braced for days for Hurricane Irma, which encompassed nearly the entire peninsula as it marched north through the state. When day broke, many got their first glimpse of the storm's destruction.

Some expressed relief that they had appeared to have dodged a bullet. Others were clearly shaken by a storm more powerful than many had ever seen. Their stories provide a glimpse into the extensive reach of Irma's wrath:


Felicia Clark and Johnny Thompson spent Sunday moving into their new house in St Petersburg, on Florida's Gulf Coast. After a long day, with forecasts on the late news showing that Irma was headed their way, they decided to leave it behind.


They packed some clothes and toiletries and hopped in the car with their two dogs, Gracie and Roscoe. They headed north, making it all the way to downtown Atlanta before they found a hotel with rooms available.

Caught in traffic with others who'd decided to flee the storm, the drive that should have taken about seven hours took more than 14.

They've spent much of their time in Atlanta watching storm coverage on television. When Thompson took the dogs out for a walk in nearby Centennial Olympic Park on Monday, he met numerous other evacuated Florida residents.

Clark and Thompson were worried about their new home, but word finally arrived from family members who stayed behind.

Some tree limbs fell in their yard, but the house wasn't damaged.


Robert Hickok runs to his truck to escape a downpour while checking on his friend whose store was damaged by Hurricane Irma in Everglades City, Florida.
Robert Hickok runs to his truck to escape a downpour while checking on his friend whose store was damaged by Hurricane Irma in Everglades City, Florida.

Robert Hickok, a 51-year-old commercial fisherman, spent hours stranded in his truck on a bridge amid fast-rising waters as he tried to leave Plantation Island.

He had decided to ride out the storm on the island, where he's lived for about four years, and sat tight through hours of rain and wind and flying debris. He was relieved when things became calm .

"It got real calm, you know," he said. "The rain let up and it quit blowing and I was still on the island and I thought it was all over."

But when he looked out the window 30 or 45 minutes later, the road was covered with water. As he watched the water, it began rising fast. He immediately got in his truck, but by the time he'd driven roughly a kilometre to the bridge, it was too late.

Everglades City, on the other side of the bridge, was flooded and there was nowhere to go.

"Thank God the bridge was there," he said. "If the bridge wasn't there, it'd have been bad."

He waited in his truck and hoped the water wouldn't rise any higher. At daybreak, the water began to recede and he was able to drive off the island.

He returned to his home today to find it destroyed.

"It's all gone. It's a total loss," he said. "The trailer, boat, car, everything."


Gwen Bush watched from her window as the water rose around her central Florida home.

She had been sitting in darkness for hours as she listened to trees snap and water bubble.

When it began to seep under her front door, she thought of the scenes of Hurricane Harvey in Texas that she had seen on TV.

"I was scared to death, I thought I was gonna die," she said. "I can't swim and the water kept rising; it was all the way up to my windows. I actually thought I was not going to live through this. I started praying."

Bush saw the National Guard and firefighters outside with boats and big trucks. She grabbed a hurricane kit she'd packed the day before, pushed open the door, and waded through thigh-deep water to reach the rescuers, who took her to a shelter a few kilometres away.

As day broke, she was grateful to be alive - but worried about the future. She had frantically tried to stack her belongings on top of beds and cabinets as the water rushed in, but she assumes she probably lost almost everything in her rented home.

Bush, 50, works as a security guard at a sports and music venue in Orlando, and only gets paid when she works. Concerts and shows have been cancelled in the days leading up to the storm, and she's not sure when she'll be able to get back to work.

As the storm closed in, she spent the last US$10 she had on food and water. now she has nothing left but the red sweatsuit she escaped in. Even her shoes were ruined by the water and muck.

"How are we gonna survive from here?" she asked. "What's going to happen now? I just don't know."


Bayardo Perez prepares to dismantle the mangled tin roof of his shed in Sweetwater, Florida.
Bayardo Perez prepares to dismantle the mangled tin roof of his shed in Sweetwater, Florida.

West of Miami, in Sweetwater, the din of chainsaws and generators filled the morning air. Irma's floodwaters had inundated streets and lapped at people's doors as the storm stomped through, but mostly receded a day later.

Fallen trees lined streets along with cars that got stuck in floodwaters. On the town's main drag, weary-eyed residents cleared branches, while city trucks with giant metal claws plucked away bigger debris.

Jesus Castillo, 50, said at least a 30cm of water pooled outside his home. "My entire patio was underwater," he said.

Around the corner, a group of friends helped a woman clear a large tree that had splintered like a toothpick. Over the backyard fence, 62-year-old Bayardo Perez wrestled with a mangled tin shed roof. He has lived in the house for decades and carries memories of previous storms.

"This one was worse than Andrew for me," he said, finally getting the crumpled roof free and walking off to throw it on a pile of debris.


At Germain Arena in Estero, south of Fort Myers, where thousands sought shelter from the storm, people sat amid puddles on the concrete floor. Rainwater leaked at the height of the storm.

"Irma went over and we were all like, 'Oh good, we survived.' And then all of a sudden, some of the panels came off the roof, I guess, and we started getting water pouring down in different places," said evacuee Mary Fitzgerald, 61. "It was like, 'Oh my God, what is going to happen?"'

The water stopped coming in after the eyewall passed, and people were streaming out to go check on their homes as the sun came up.


Firefighters check on Kelly McClenthen, who returned to check on the damage to her flooded home, in Bonita Springs, Florida.
Firefighters check on Kelly McClenthen, who returned to check on the damage to her flooded home, in Bonita Springs, Florida.

In Bonita Springs, on the Gulf Coast south of Fort Myers, Kelly McClenthen and her boyfriend, Daniel Harrison, put on waders to enter her neighbourhood and they needed them: About 1.5m of river water stood under her home, which is on stilts.

The main living area was fine, she said, but everything on the ground level was destroyed.

"My washer and dryer are floating around in my utility room," she said.

The same area flooded during a storm about two weeks ago, Harrison said, and that cleanup was still a work in progress.

Now they'll start over.

"We weathered it out. We've got a lot of damage, a lot of clean-up. But we'll get through it. No doubt," said Harrison.


Larry Dimas and his wife, Elida Dimas, live in Immokalee, in inland Florida town about 65km northeast of Naples where entire areas are flooded.

The Dimases lost part of the roof of their mobile home to Irma, and one wall wobbled to the touch.

Cars and trucks drove slowly through a main intersection to avoid causing wakes next to homes and businesses. Kids rode bikes on streets covered in water.

Larry Dimas says damage from Irma won't be easy to overcome in a town whose population is composed mainly of migrants and blue-collar workers.

"They just go to work and come home. Something like this happens and it's just ...," Dimas said, pausing and turning around to keep his emotions in check.

Dimas says it's still okay to live in his mobile home, but his wife disagrees.
"He wants to, but I'm not living here," she said.