A story of evacuation during the 2020 floods

(TNS) – Four years ago, I returned to my home off Sanford Lake for the first time since my evacuation.

I was with my father, who I really needed to support me mentally and physically – depending on how much damage was done to the house.

I had spent the week imagining the worst-case scenario brought on by a historic flood that was beginning to make headlines around the world.

As I reached my street, my stomach tightened.

A rude awakening

Five days earlier, on a rainy night on May 18, 2020, I checked my basement for water before going to bed.

My then-fiancee, Taylor, and I had been dealing with flooding issues in our basement since we purchased the house in August 2019.

So I was worried and checked the basement before bed almost every time it rained.

I had recently had a backup sump pump for city water installed in addition to my main pump to help combat spring rains.

Fortunately, my basement was extremely dry. I felt a little better about the situation and was able to fall asleep that night without much worry.

But then I woke up at 2 a.m. to the sound of our doorbell.

My first thought was that karma had finally caught up with me from my late-night ding-dong-ditch childhood.

But when I approached the front door and saw flashing red lights at the end of my driveway, my mood changed.

It was the firefighters. The man at the door urged me to immediately evacuate my home due to an imminent dam failure.

“A what?”

On the way back to the room, I pinched myself.

Taylor was sitting in bed with her phone.

“They’re evacuating everyone,” she said, pointing to an emergency notification on her phone.

The alert echoed the firefighter's words.

Find higher ground

“What are we doing?”

“Where are we going?”

We needed to find a place to stay that would accommodate both of us as well as our dog and cat.

We contacted friends in the East Midland – the only people within a 50 mile radius who could allow us and our pets to stay. They agreed, and within 30 minutes we were packed and out the door.

We arrived at their apartment around 3 a.m.

The four of us (pets included) had to crowd into a guest room to keep our pets from harassing the host cats.

It was around 5am when we finally settled down and started to get some sleep.

My phone alarm went off at 6:30 a.m. and I slowly and quietly got ready for work.

It was a Tuesday, the only day of the week I couldn't miss work. Yes, even in a situation like this.

Since the dam hadn't broken overnight, I took the time to stop at the house on my way to work in Gladwin. I checked the basement – ​​still dry.

Tired – but a little more comfortable now – I got to work.

A nearby call

I knocked at 5 p.m., eager to check the house again and make sure it was safe to return.

I was heading east on Curtis Rd. towards N. Lake Sanford Rd. around 5:30 p.m. I had a strange feeling because I was the only car heading east, while dozens of people were heading west, including a few news vans.

About halfway to Curtis, my phone turned on.

“Emergency Alert: Edenville Dam has failed and is ruptured. Evacuate downstream immediately.”

Before I had time to react, my boss called me.

“Don’t go home, get out of the area.”

When I hung up, my father was calling me.

“You’re not home, are you?”

Then Taylor.

“Get out of here!”

I turned around when there was a gap in westbound traffic and returned to M-18, then US-10.

Mine was the very last car to cross the US-10 bridge over Sanford Lake before the bridge closed.

As I crossed the east end of the bridge, two county police cars came up behind me to block the road.

Get out of Dodge

At the apartment, Taylor had packed up everything.

The city of Midland had also issued an evacuation order. She showed me photos of patients being evacuated from the hospital on stretchers.

I called my parents and soon we were on the road again, bound for my childhood home in Greenville (near Grand Rapids).

However, to head southwest, we would have to cross the Tittabawassee River.

I was hoping I wouldn't have to double our time driving north to avoid any road closures.

Luckily, we were in my van when we forded the flooded roads of Gordonville Road. A few cars were parked just before the flooded road, unsure of their ability to cross.

The rest of our ride was quiet – we were both distracted by a bombardment of thoughts.

A haven of peace in the north of the state

When we arrived at my parents' house, there was lots of cuddling and even more unpacking to do. Once our installation was complete, we took the time to check for any updates on the situation in Sanford.

We realized that our electricity had been cut off at our house. All I could hope was that our town's water sump pump was doing some good – even though in my imagination the water reached my eight-foot basement ceiling.

We decided to stay put until power was restored and our roads were open. We were able to find a flood map online, which showed water levels in specific areas.

Luckily, the water didn't actually come up to our driveway on the map – but how accurate was the map really?

When we saw an article that our electrical substation was completely underwater, we knew we weren't going anywhere anytime soon.

Hurry up and wait

Over the next few days at my parents' house, I continued to participate in Zoom calls from local governments and groups dedicated to recovery efforts.

We've seen photos and videos of a flooded downtown Sanford bridge, US-10, and even a fully modular home floating on “Sanford Lake.”

While we were there, my mother encouraged Taylor and I to do a pottery project with her to “take my mind off things.”

We each had a piece of pottery to paint, which my mother then took to get fired and brought back as a souvenir.

As it turned out, this idea backfired on me, because with my blank canvas coffee mug, I painted a scene of our house surrounded by floodwaters. I put “2020” in bold on the handle – not that I would ever forget.

Navigating the fallout

We received notification that our power had returned thanks to a temporary power plant, and on Saturday, May 23, my father and I left to see the damage for ourselves.

The drive home was painful.

Downtown Sanford was a cloud of dust and destruction from all the sediment and debris carried downstream. Some roads with bridges and culverts were still closed.

The lake was now a field with a river running through it. The streams flowing from the lake were dry.

Pontoons and docks were tossed about on the banks of the dry lake bed. It looked like something from a movie.

home Sweet Home

And there we were, turning into my path – my heart was pounding. The house was still standing – that’s good – and not in the middle of floodwaters like on my coffee cup.

Inside, everything was still as Taylor and I left it.

I still remember the gut-wrenching feeling I felt when I opened the basement door. As the door creaked open, I turned on the basement light.

It was dry.

The entire basement was dry and the city water pump was running constantly to keep it that way.

I came across the bottom step of my basement stairs and took a moment to breathe and be grateful.

Find hope again

Even though the food in our refrigerator and freezer was spoiled and our next municipal water bill was over $500, I couldn't believe our house survived the flood.

Over the next few months, I made sure to help those less fortunate: neighbors, communities, and even some businesses.

It was the largest volunteer effort I have ever seen. The flood relief efforts brought hope to those who had experienced exactly what I had – but without a happy ending.

Four years later, people are still recovering and trying to put this event behind them.

Once they do, I hope they get a chance to tell their story.

Max Milne's backup sump pump broke a day after he and Taylor returned home. He had it repaired and regularly maintains what he now calls “the little pump that could”. Email him at [email protected].

©2024 Midland Daily News (Midland, Mich.). Distributed by Tribune Content Agency, LLC.