In the 'dark heart' of Hurricane Milton: The Mail's GREG WOODFIELD shares his agonizing wait to see if his Florida home will survive

As the deadly Hurricane Milton barreled towards my wife and I in the early evening, the heightened tension was borderline unbearable.

With the countdown to landfall less than three hours away, we still didn't know if our four-bedroom house would take the direct hit of 120 mph winds.

For days, we tentatively held out hope amidst the deluge of information pouring in from local TV reports – and it turned up to high as the agonizing deadline approached.

To avoid, he had to head south to our home in a quiet enclave in northwest Tampa Bay the most deadly and destructive path, a narrow width of five to ten miles of unbearable fear.

Then Milton did the unthinkable. At least for us it's unthinkable.

A dog was rescued amid high water levels on Memorial Highway in Tampa after Hurricane Milton

With about 180 minutes left – yes, we counted it that precisely – a shadow suddenly moved north.

This moment happened in real time on TV while watching the track of the National Hurricane Center, that damn little black line that looked like it held our future in its hands.

Our anxiety levels naturally increased as we looked at the development of a modern hotel in downtown Tampa that we wanted to get out of, along with the hordes of other “refugees” who had left their homes at the mercy of nature.

But for others of the approximately three million residents of the Tampa Bay area, this change of track must have sparked a spark of relief. For them, the northern bulge offered hope.

One person's escape is potentially a disaster for another in the hurricane industry. We know because four other hurricanes have devastated Florida's west coast since we moved there three years ago from Miami.

And this feeling of relief only causes a real attack of guilt among Floridians who flock to these events in times of mortal danger, helping others with good deeds and kind words.

So, after a few hours, it turned out that Milton had started coming back to us again, carrying vengeance in his dark heart.

If this continues, our previous faint hopes of avoiding the worst may be lost, as well as the normal dreams every couple has for their home and future.

It was a sleepless night for the couple as they worried about whether their home would survive as 200km/h winds blew into the area.

“While we remained glued to the TV, the wind outside our hotel began to blow at around 50 mph, and the rain that had started in the morning as a foretaste of what was to come intensified alarmingly,” Woodfield writes.

Regardless of the track, we were in the “cone of uncertainty,” which meant hurricane-force winds regardless of Milton's eventual fluctuating mood. There was nothing we could do but watch, listen and hope.

As we remained glued to the TV, the wind outside our hotel began to blow at about 50 miles per hour, and the rain that had started in the morning as a foretaste of what was to come intensified alarmingly.

Woodfield and his wife, Luz Stella, fled their four-bedroom home and took refuge in a hotel

Milton then hit as a Category 3 storm with wind speeds of up to 200 km/h at 8:30 p.m. local time. The middle destructive band hits Siesta Key, a barrier island off Sarasota and south of Tampa Bay.

Ultimately, I won't say we breathed a sigh of relief. So far, eleven people have lost their lives because of Milton and his influence. Four people were killed by tornadoes and two others died in St. Petersburg, north of Sarasota.

Our hotel barely shook while we were awake through the worst of it, despite the incredible roar of the hurricane outside which intensified into the early morning hours. Even through the hurricane-proof windows, the noise was deafening. My wife wasn't asleep until 5:30 a.m. (she tells me).

At our house the situation was slightly different. During the night, I received an “extreme wind warning” message on my phone for our particular area. Local TV meteorologist and hurricane guru Denis Phillips warned that if something like this happened, it would be serious.

Our area was now within the dramatic and super-powerful “north wall” of the eye. This turned out to mean wind gusts of up to 180 km/h which destroyed our house and an astonishing 30 cm of rain in a few hours.

With tearful eyes and trembling, we drove away from our hotel along increasingly flooded roads. As we turned into the estate's electric gate, we both looked at each other with expressions that said, “This is it.”

Woodfield writes that he and his wife are among three million people left without power, “with no idea” when it might return

Wind gusts shattered windows at a downtown Tampa high-rise building. Woodfield and his wife were staying at a nearby hotel and described an “eerie hurricane roar outside”

While wading through the flood, this man wanted to provide his dog with a safe place

Many Tampa residents are still struggling with the effects of Hurricane Helene, which turned everyday items into trash

As the storm hit, the couple received “extreme wind warnings” on their phones, but still, some people found relief in macabre humor like this sign on a house on Memorial Highway

We have already experienced enough emotions. Packing a car to escape with our most precious possessions and all the necessary documents to enable us to continue living if everything else was lost was an ordeal enough.

Just like when we filmed the house for insurance purposes, we realized this might be the last time we saw it in this condition.

Yet we still stand, even though the fences have been torn down. The house itself escaped the damage that I can see, so we are grateful for the relatively recent new roof and hurricane windows, despite the hit to the bank balance.

We dodged a real bullet. My neighbors weren't so lucky. Directly opposite, they lost a large portion of their roof. Meanwhile, the local 7-11 gas station was torn to pieces.

Now our concern is the flood. We are far from the effects of the storm, which did not occur as feared, and yet we are at the mercy of the local water system, which flooded the nature reserve next to our house and now covers much of our lawn.

There was at least a foot of water in places on the road leading into our community, and it still is there as I write this. This morning, only the SUV had any chance of navigation.

At the nearby Tampa Bay Downs Racetrack, it resembles a decent-sized lake – gushing water still feeds the flood. Other nearby businesses are flooded and roads are impassable.

Tampa is still recovering from the deadly Hurricane Helene that hit just two weeks ago. Now some residents who were flooded by a storm surge of up to three meters as a result of this terrible event are struggling to cope with new floodwaters outside their homes.

The wind force was so strong that trees broke in some places

A fallen business sign lying on the sidewalk of N Nines Avenue

Woodfield writes that the flooding at the local racecourse was so severe that one couple arrived by kayak

A truck battles flooding on West Hillsborough Avneue in Tampa. Woodfield describes how residents returned to normal life 'within hours'

The force of the wind uprooted giant trees in the coastal area of ​​Dana Shores that were devastated by Helene. Although the houses themselves seemed to have escaped the second wave.

And while many areas of Tampa Bay are dealing with another hurricane, parts of the city appear untouched. No downed trees, almost no debris and zero flooding. Such is the fickle nature of these beasts.

We are among the three million people currently without power, and there is no telling when it will be restored. After Helene, some people have only recently been contacted.

Within a few hours of Milton, people in my community were back on the pickleball courts. And a couple came to the racecourse with a kayak to make the most of the new water facility. Crazy? This is Florida after all.