The “Wild One” was tamed by Hurricane Ian.
That’s how Victor Coletta summarizes his experience – and that of his boat – as the massive storm churned through southwest Florida last week.
Mr. Coletta rode out the storm, along with other houseboat dwellers from the same marina, in a parking garage across the street. He and his dog slept inside his pickup truck. More than 15 feet of storm surge inundated the area, picking up Mr. Coletta’s houseboat – the Wild One is big enough to have two levels and two small bedrooms – and landing it on nearby cement.
At one point, he tried to run outside amid Ian’s triple-digit winds, but he turned around.
“If I could have gotten out here early enough before the surge went down ...” Mr. Coletta says, his voice trailing off as he leans against his truck, pondering what might have prevented the damage.
He shakes his head and stares back toward his boat as it lies on its side in front of him. He considers himself fortunate. He still has his life and his dog. Mr. Coletta opens the door of his truck when he says this; a gray labradoodle sticks his head out. “Who’s a good boy?” he asks him.
The Wild One was more than just a boat. As was true for many with boats docked permanently along the marina, it was Mr. Coletta’s home. More importantly, it was his dream – to eventually move from his native Michigan to Fort Myers for a life on the water. He relocated to the area in December.
Southwest Florida’s houseboat culture is distinct in its charm, but the increasing volatility of storms is putting this lifestyle – and its role in the local economy and community – at new risk. Houseboat owners here are reeling emotionally and financially. Many intend to stay; some may not.
The Sunshine State and its rainy days
Under Florida law, fully insuring houseboats isn’t mandatory. Many houseboat occupants across the region decline to obtain full coverage. Mr. Coletta is among the exceptions.
But even for those like him who already have full coverage of their homes, a catastrophic event like Ian gives pause. Florida’s struggling insurance industry has already seen six providers go out of business this year. And in June, a Florida Office of Insurance Regulation report cited at least 30 more at risk of shuttering due to financial instability.
Houseboat dwellers worry that they’ll be among those most difficult to insure in the future, and that premiums will soar.
The state has faced hurricanes throughout its history, but scientists say warming air and water temperatures are enabling more powerful storms like Ian, which made landfall near here as a Category 4 with winds exceeding 150 mph.
Those who opted not to evacuate saw a storm surge inundate neighborhoods up to 12 miles inland. Federal officials estimated more than 4,000 emergency rescues occurred. Early estimates cite Ian as the deadliest storm to hit Florida since 1935 (more than 100 fatalities) and the costliest (damages may exceed $100 billion).
For houseboat dwellers, Ian’s fallout is hard to put a figure to. Many of their boats – their homes – now lie scattered across the Fort Myers area. Some are totaled. Many will require repairs.
Kyle Collard, a boat mechanic who relocated to Fort Myers from Colorado last year with his wife, has only liability insurance due to the cost of full coverage. During the storm, their houseboat lost a bedroom wall, and a pylon from the marina dock was forced through the boat’s deck.
The houseboats of their immediate neighbors both sank. Theirs would have done the same had Mr. Collard not stepped out to fix it after the storm passed through Thursday morning, as Ian’s winds gradually died down.
And unlike others, Mr. Collard has the skills to help point their lives forward.
A Harley and a houseboat
Scott Ready is thankful to be grieving only the loss of his Harley-Davidson motorcycle, engulfed by the storm surge in the marina’s parking lot. The motorcycle was among his only possessions when he relocated from Las Vegas last year.
Living on a boat in southwest Florida had always been Mr. Ready’s goal. He finally accomplished it, but he knew better than to attempt to ride out the storm in his home.
During Ian, Mr. Ready traveled to a friend’s home in nearby Cape Coral. It was his first hurricane, and they were on Ian’s eyewall. He felt it rip the siding from his friend’s home.
The next day, he returned to his side of the bridge in North Fort Myers, where his boat was docked. It remained, but it was among only a handful that were still livable.
“Half the boats ain’t even here no more,” Mr. Ready says, pointing across the marina.
Some boats were jarred loose from the dock and swept out to sea. Many sank.
“My friend didn’t fare so well,” Mr. Ready adds, pointing to the hull of an overturned boat.
Much of Mr. Ready’s life has consisted of simply moving on. He says this is another example. It’s what will be required of all his houseboat neighbors, in one way or another, as they get their lives back in order.
It’s part of their culture of life on the water.
“It’s got to be that simple,” Mr. Ready says, noting that it’s unclear when power will be available on the marina again. “Rebuild, move on. You can’t sit around and cry about it.”
“I’m a survivor, man,” he adds, with no intention of leaving Florida or houseboat living behind. “I’m gonna be all right.”
