Well, there we were, Mrs. Brad and I on a trip to Oahu in early September. That's when Hurricane Lowell skated across the Pacific Ocean, narrowly missing Kaua'i, but causing extensive damage to that island.
We weren't on Kaua'i, but we were close enough that we experienced what was then classified as Tropical Storm Lowell – a wild weather event with huge winds over Labor Day night. Spoiler alert: It wasn't paradise.
First, a disclaimer: We aren't victims. We were in Hawai'i, after all – not everyone can do that. Also, we didn't get hurt and have no financial responsibility to repair damage caused by the winds. We were just two Californians who wondered how long the power would be out and whether the windows of our Airbnb home would withstand the winds.
Having lived in Suisun City for three decades, I'm familiar with wind. I'm also familiar with windstorms, which seem worse in Solano County than most places. I have laid in bed many nights, wondering whether my fence would be standing in the morning. We had fences blown down. We had our basketball standard crash forward.
My most compelling major storm memory is of hurricane-force winds in December 1988, a massive storm that roared and shook windows. During the height of the storm, several storefront windows in downtown Fairfield blew out, as did windows at the Solano Mall. The Solano Drive-In's screen was destroyed (and never replaced, unless you consider the Raleys that stands on that site on North Texas Street a "replacement").
Most important to the then-sports editor, the games at the Ed Hopkins Classic basketball tournament at Armijo High were postponed. Trees fell across the roads. A shed near my house in Suisun City was blown into a tree.
It was a whopper of a storm.
Perhaps the Oahu Labor Day Storm of 2026 (as I call it) wasn't that bad, but it felt like it.
Mrs. Brad and I knew problems were looming, as residents warned us to store water and have food available in case of a power outage or water shutoff. The latter never happened, but the power went out at about 8:30 p.m. Monday night.
During a major power outage, you realize how much you depend on electricity. It was dark at 8:30 p.m., but we weren't ready for bed. So we stayed up and watched. The winds were slamming our window and getting worse as the night went along. A neighbor's carport roof was screeching as the winds tried to pull it off. Every 20 minutes or so, there would be a loud slam as a large branch (or tree) fell.
Enduring a storm at your own house makes you worry about damage that you have to repair. Enduring a storm at an unfamiliar house makes you worry that a huge branch could come crashing through a window at any time because you didn't pay enough attention to identify nearby trees
Also: A night with a wind storm is a long, long night. On the night of the Labor Day Storm of 2026, neither of us slept well. The following morning, as the winds died down, we groggily walked around the neighborhood and saw the damage. Mostly, it was huge branches that fell, so not bad.
But the power remained out. I worried about the ability to charge my smartphone, which controls my insulin pump (the plan: Use backup batteries to charge it. Use my laptop to charge it. Drive to somewhere with power to charge it.). Fortunately, power came back on about noon, ending the anxiety.
The following days were excessively humid, due to the storm's remnants. But (in Hawai'i, at a rental house, swimming every day in the Pacific ocean while on a vacation), we survived.
Folks in Kaua'i and its tiny neighboring island of Ni'hau weren't so lucky. The saw extensive damage and days without power. Tourists were advised to avoid Kaua'i for the foreseeable future, undoubtedly damaging the island's economy.
Back on Oahu, we endured humidity, had to move some branches and then resumed going to the beach.
What a nightmare!
The Labor Day Storm of 2026 was frightening, but it didn't ruin our vacation.
Now, I guess, I feel like a jerk for overreacting.
Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.
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