Flooding Close to Home

I'm used to seeing large scale disasters like forest fires, hurricanes, and floods, up close and personal, with one exception: They're usually occurring in distant locations across the country, held safely behind the shield of my TV and computer screens. So, when one of the largest floods in Northwest Indiana history began to swallow my home turf over the weekend, things got a lot more real. This time, the shield from reality became my camera viewfinder, and from 500 feet above the devastation in a helicopter, I got a first hand look at how widespread the damage actually was. My favorite pizza restaurant, the pool hall where my friends and I have shot a few games on countless nights, the health clinic where my childhood doctor practiced, among many locations very familiar to me - all underwater.

An office complex sits flooded along Hohman Ave. adjacent to Interstate 94 in Munster, Ind., Sunday, September 14, 2008.

My coverage started the day before my helicopter shoot on foot in the towns of Munster and Hammond, Indiana. I got a Sunday morning wake up call from my photo editor Andy Lavalley at The Post-Tribune newspaper asking if I'd like to join the team that day to cover the already increasing flood damage. With the rain still coming down in sheets, I geared up with a hooded wind breaker and a few Walgreen's plastic bags duct taped around my camera bodies (Aquatech, looking to sponsor a budding photographer?).

I headed to Hohman Ave. and the Little Calumet River, where river waters were flowing under the viaduct at Interstate 94 and into a neighboring Munster, Indiana, community. I walked in the rain with a single camera body for around an hour, at times in water up to my knees, photographing residents watching helplessly as the river began to flow down their streets.

A resident who wished to remain anonymous stands near water being forced up from a manhole on Forest Ave. in Munster, Ind., Sunday, September 14, 2008.

It's very awkward photographing, let alone talking to, people in these situations. They're obviously very upset that their homes are about to be destroyed, and members of the media are the last people they want to make time for. Couple this with my physical appearance - by this time I was so wet that I looked like I'd jumped in a pool, my long hair stuck down all over my face with a single camera in a plastic bag - needless to say I didn't look too official.

Despite this, I got a few shots of people unwilling to talk from a respectful distance, and found a few kids who actually found the situation amusing who were willing to provide me with their names. My colleagues at The Post-Tribune did way better than me in the "getting right in there" dept., actually gaining access to the inside of people's flooded homes during the crisis.

(From left) Devin Geeding, 13, and his friend Danny Matson, 14, look at flood waters along River Dr. at Hohman Ave. in their Hammond, Ind., neighborhood, Sunday, September 14, 2008.

I dunno, sometimes I like to cover things from a distance, getting the bigger picture if you will, rather than sticking a 17mm into someone's face who's is tears. Despite what the public may think of photojournalists, we don't like photographing people's darkest hours. Often times, it's just as emotionally trying for us to be there shooting a situation as it is for the people in the photos. I was given the chance to get some of this distant, overall coverage the following day.

Photo editor Andy gave me another wake-up call Monday morning, informing me that the paper had booked a one hour helicopter flight at 1pm and asked if I wanted to go up and shoot the damage from an aerial perspective. For the paper to offer this to me as a freelancer was very exciting. I love flying and shooting from the air, but I've never had the opportunity to shoot from a helicopter.

Traffic in Northwest Indiana has been horrible since the floods began, with many North-South arteries closed at the Little Calumet River, the source of most of the flood waters. I left my house an hour and a half early to take one of the detours South down Torrence Ave. in neighboring Illinois to get to Sun Aero Helicopters at the Lansing, Illinois, airport (a drive that would normally take 25 minutes). I arrived at the airport much sooner than I expected, and prepped my gear in the parking lot while waiting for my pilot to return from lunch.

A short time later, I walked into the FBO and was greeted by my pilot Luke, who immediately escorted me out onto the tarmac to our awaiting Robinson R22 Beta helicopter. Though I'm not afraid of flying (I actually really enjoy it), I won't say that I wasn't a little apprehensive when I saw the small size of the helicopter. With only two seats, the ship was a little smaller than a Volkswagen bug.

Luke had already removed the door on my side (what would be the "drivers side" of a car, helicopter pilots fly from the "passenger side") so I'd have an unobstructed view to shoot the ground below. I got in my seat and securely fastened my seat belt, which was the exact style found in a car with an airliner style latch. This was also a little disconcerting as I knew I'd be leaning out of the door of the helicopter during the flight to shoot - I was hoping for a five-point harness. I clipped my camera straps and memory card wallet to the seat belt with a locking carabiner (2 Canon 1D Mark II's, along with 17-40mm f4 and 70-200mm f2.8 lenses), and was ready to take off.

A man rides a bike down flooded Calumet Ave. in Dyer, Ind., Monday, September 15, 2008.

An oil slick forms behind a flooded home in Dyer, Ind., Monday, September 15, 2008.

Once we became airborne, we flew South of the airfield to the town of Dyer, Indiana, and immediately had an impressive view of the flooding. We circled a flooded neighborhood for around five minutes before heading North down Calumet Ave. to the Town of Munster, Indiana, where much of the devastation occurred.

A smooth ride in the Robinson R22 over Dyer, Ind., Monday, September 15, 2008.

As we made our way North, I became keenly aware of how stable and smooth the R22 helicopter was, and my initial apprehension of its small size quickly went away. I've flown in many small aircraft, and I've got to say that the R22 was the smoothest thing I've ever flown in other than a commercial airliner. The helicopter was extremely stable and responsive, and stories I've heard from other photographers of problematic vibrations experienced while shooting in helicopters were unfounded with this model.

Flood waters fill the parking lots of The Hammond Clinic (bottom right) and Target (top left) near Calumet Ave. (right) in Munster, Ind., Monday, September 15, 2008.

Arriving over Munster, Indiana, I shot some overalls of one of the most widespread areas of flooding. I asked pilot Luke to circle around a recognizable shopping complex, so I could shoot the flood waters there as well as in neighborhoods surrounding it. This location also gave me a vantage point of the Little Calumet River, the source of the flood waters. It was crazy seeing so many places flooded below me that I frequent, like Edwardo's Pizza and Jukebox Billiards.

The Hammond Clinic (top left), my favorite pizza place Edwardo's (dark black roof across the street) and Jukebox Billiards pool hall (left of that with the light grey roof) are all very familiar landmarks to me affected by the flood.

The ground floor of the Hammond Clinic, where my childhood doctor had his practice (across the street from the pizza place), was also submerged. Ironically, I just shot a ribbon cutting there at the beginning of the summer marking completions of major renovations to the ground floor lobby area, renovations that will likely have to be repeated. Across the parking lot, the Target store where my girlfriend Jahaira worked for a few years was also surrounded by the flood waters.

Volunteers fill sandbags near Columbia Ave. and the Little Calumet River in Hammond, Ind., Monday, September 15, 2008.

Floor waters approach the sanctuary at South Side Christian Church on Broadmoor Ave. in Munster, Ind., Monday, September 15, 2008.

Cars sit submerged in flood waters in the parking lot of the Hammond Clinic in Munster, Ind., Monday, September 15, 2008.

Volunteers form a chain to place sandbags near flooded homes in Munster, Ind., Monday, September 15, 2008.

A Munster, Ind., resident looks out to flood waters at the end of his driveway, Monday, September 15, 2008.

After working the Muster area for around fifteen minutes, we headed East to the next location on the list, Interstate 94 and Kennedy Ave. in Highland, Indiana. Interstate 94 at this location is submerged under up to six feet of water for around 300 yards. I'd shot it from the ground the day before, and seeing it from the air confirmed how widespread the damage actually was. Again, seeing familiar landmarks, such as the Indiana Welcome Center (with its love it or hate it design) brought the large scale disaster very close to home.

Flood waters approach the main entrance of the Indiana Welcome Center near the Interstate 94 and Kennedy, Ave. interchange in Hammond, Ind., Monday, September 15, 2008.

Flood waters cover Interstate 94 (top to bottom) at Kennedy Ave. in Hammond, Ind., Monday, September 15, 2008.

Flooding at the interchange as seen from the ground the previous day.

A gravel dike contains flood waters near the Indiana Welcome Center (top right) near Kennedy Ave. (bottom) in Hammond, Ind., Monday, September 15, 2008.

A sign truss is reflected in flood waters at Interstate 94 at Kennedy Ave. in Hammond, Ind., Sunday, September 14, 2008.

After working the Highland area, we headed further East to Gary, Indiana, where the USS Steelyard Stadium (home of the minor league Railcats baseball team) had flooded the previous day. Upon arriving over the stadium, we found it was high and dry, and quickly headed South to the next location the list, downtown Hobart, Indiana. I was kinda ticked that we wasted the flight time to Gary, because at $225 dollars per hour and strict instructions from my photo editor to not exceed that by too much, every minute in the air is precious.

Pilot Luke, a California native, wasn't 100% familiar with Northwest Indiana, and I don't venture to Hobart too often, so we had a few moments of head-scratching over Gary trying to figure out what heading to fly towards to reach Hobart in the fastest time. I found myself glancing down at the helicopter's aviation style GPS, which reads nothing like the GPS unit in my car, so that was of no help. I finally got my bearings (many pointless hours of "flying" around in Google Earth finally paid off), and pointed Luke in the correct direction.

Flood waters fill the Brickie Bowl in Hobart, Ind., Monday, September 15, 2008.

We arrived over Hobart a very short time later, and photographed a landmark high school football stadium, The Brickie Bowl, completely filled with flood waters. I've shot lots of Friday night football games here as well as high school graduations, so once again, the familiarity of an area affected by the devastation was touching on a personal level.

A goal post and time clock are all that are visible on the football field at the Brickie Bowl in Hobart, Ind., Monday, September 15, 2008.

With my hour almost up, we began to make our way West back to Lansing airport, but not before stopping a few more times in Gary to shoot a few new patches of flooding along Interstate 94, as well as flooding in the Indiana University Northwest parking lot. Pilot Luke was a great sport about my wishy-washy plans in the air, as I'd often tell him to head to one location, only to point out something else I'd see and want to shoot along the way. He assured me he's used to this during photo flights, and it was no problem.

Traffic on Interstate 94 slows for flood waters near Grant St. (top) in Gary, Ind., Monday, September 15, 2008.

A car drives through flood waters on Eastbound Interstate 94 near Grant St. in Gary, Ind., Monday, September 15, 2008.

On the way back to Lansing, I got the obligatory Myspace photo of myself flying in the helicopter, along with a few stock images of local landscapes on what little memory card space I had left. 941 images shot during the flight filled all 6 of my 1Gb Lexar compact flash cards.

The obligatory Myspace portrait.

I took the same detour from the airport back to my home in East Chicago, where I filed 31 photos from the initial take. One of those photos (not my favorite, but it works) was used on today's front page, and several others were used on the inside pages.

After coming off a shoot like this, and arriving back in my dry home just miles away from so much suffering and devastation, I can't help but feel a bit guilty. However, I feel like I'm using the best skills that I have in order to help the people affected by the flood. Perhaps if officials at the local and state government levels (and even owners of large corporations capable of making monetary and tangible donations) see images I and other photographers shot of the disaster, they'll move quickly to do whatever they can to help the communities affected.