Our roofs also keep us cool in the summer and look pretty on a postcard – but it’s their ability to withstand even the harshest of storms that makes them particularly worth celebrating at this time of year.

The Bermuda TrueRoof system, a product of Bermuda Paint Company Ltd, is a popular alternative to the traditional slate roof that has long been a feature of the island’s buildings.

The BTR system consists of an interlocking series of 1.5-inch expanded polystyrene foam panels imported from Nova Scotia. The “type two” panels, denser than the type one panels sometimes used in roofs of this type, are attached as 4.25-square-foot interlocking pieces.

Richard Moulder, general manager of Bermuda Paint, explained the process of installing a BTR system.

“You install cement board onto your wooden framing. Then you take an adhesive and apply it to the cement board with a trowel. That is how you adhere the type two panels, which interlock.

“After that’s done, and it’s set, you mix BTR Cement Additive with the Bermuda TrueRoof fibred cement to a consistency that you can brush it over the foam panel. That’s what seals everything.

“After that’s done, you apply the Acriseal Penetrant Primer, one coat of that, and then you apply two coats of the Bermuda Roof Guard elastomeric coating.”

Bermuda Paint imports the BTR fibred cement, but the Bermuda Roof Guard elastomeric coating, the Acriseal Penetrant Primer and the BTR Cement Additive are made at the company’s 8,000-square-foot manufacturing and storage facility on Watlington Road West, off Brighton Hill in Devonshire, which also features a 2,500-square-foot retail shop.

Built to withstand storms

The decorative roof system, which can resemble a traditional stepped slate roof or can be installed as flat pieces, has been withstanding the worst of Atlantic hurricane seasons since coming to market in 2009.

Since conception, Mr Moulder said the BTR roof system has not had a roof failure, when installed by a professional and abiding by Bermuda Paint’s strict installation code.

That ability to withstand the strongest storms is due in large part to the interlocking nature of the foam panels.

Mr Moulder said: “The whole roof is conjoined; it is all glued together as one massive piece. Its durability is also to do with the venting of the panels as well. I’m not putting down a slate roof, but at the same time, we are going to run out of slate at some point in time. It’s hard to get even now.”

He added: “When you put up a slate roof, you’re putting in 12-by-18-inch pieces of slate, one on top of the other. With the foam roof, you’re putting down four-by-eight-foot sheets of cement board over the whole structure of your roof and then gluing the panels to the board. You can also use wind screws, or you can staple the panels to it.

“Even though it’s a light roof system, the structure of it is stronger than a slate roof, because when the wind gets under a slate roof, all you need is one of those slates to come up, and then it’s the domino effect – all of it comes up.”

Other benefits

In the long term, the BTR system is also cost-effective.

Mr Moulder said: “When you have an inch and a half of type two foam on top of your roof, first of all, it’s an insulator, so your cooling bills would be less, and your heating bills would be less.”

The materials used with the BTR system are more efficient at collecting water, while maintenance is cheaper.

He added: “A slate roof also has to be painted about every 18 months to two years. With the BTR system, you can get on average about four years before you have to repaint it.”

As the company’s product, Bermuda Roof Guard, is used for the collection of potable water, Bermuda Paint – by law and directed by the Bermuda Health Department – sends samples of its coating to Britain, which the company is in the process of completing now, to be tested every five years for its safe use as a potable water surface.

The Devonshire company, which was founded in 1957, remains the island’s only paint manufacturer. It operates with seven staff and markets a settled product line.

Mr Moulder said: “The majority of our business is the products that we make and manufacture. Those are the paints, the BTR Roof Adhesive that is made for the Bermuda True Roof system, the Bermuda Roof Guard topcoat, and the cement additive that goes in the BTR fibre cement that gives a roof its strength and flexibility.”

He added: “We’ve been here a long time, and our products work. They are high-quality and are developed for the Bermuda climate. They are 100 per cent made for Bermuda, and 100 per cent made by Bermudians.”

The post Tried and tested appeared first on RG Magazines.

What’s past is prologue…

Like many Bermudians born before 1980, my reference for hurricanes was largely shaped by the experience of Hurricane Emily in 1987, when I was eight years old.

While I have experienced many storms since, up until 2003 Emily remained my primary reference.

That changed in 2003. It was my first year of the Regiment, having been conscripted like many Bermudian men before me.

My time in the Regiment coincided with several major storms, and I served in the immediate aftermath of hurricanes in Cayman and Grenada.

But it was Fabian that devastated Bermuda.

I volunteered to serve as part of the Regiment’s rapid response force, along with others from the Corporals Cadre. This meant arriving at Warwick Camp the day before the storm, and spending the long night of the storm in barracks, prepared to deploy even in the midst of the storm, but otherwise with the intention of heading out at first light to begin clearing roads to facilitate both emergency transport and for the rest of the Regiment to muster and deploy.

Many former soldiers will be familiar with the term ‘hurry up and wait’, and that was basically my night during the storm. Some of us played cards. I believe someone had dominoes.

Periodically there would be a crash or a bang outside that would snap us back into the reality of the storm. I almost always have a book with me to kill time, and for Fabian I had brought to camp a paperback version of The Tempest by Shakespeare. It seemed fitting. Throughout the storm and its aftermath – which for me was weeks as a soldier – I read the play over and over.

Destruction

At first light, my team was dispatched towards the hospital, to ensure access was secure. The focus is on ensuring a single lane to the hospital. Clearing two lanes comes later – single lanes ensure emergency access. You have to be careful to look for downed wires first: before you act, you must observe to ensure you yourself do not become the emergency.

Other teams were sent east and west along the main roads – those are the priority after the storm.

Shortly after reaching the hospital and seeing it was clear, my team was dispatched instead to the Deputy Governor’s house. The Governor was off-island, so the Deputy was acting as Commander-in-Chief. Our focus was on clearing his driveway so he could more readily get from A to B. It was there that the radio crackled. We were the closest Regiment team to the Causeway at that time. And we were needed. None of us knew at that moment what the situation was, or why it was urgent to drop what we were doing and head there. Myself, I was just hoping to do something more important than clear a driveway.

On the way we began to speculate what we would find and what we would be doing. Was the Causeway destroyed? Was it blocked? We didn’t know, but we watched the destruction on our way and made mental notes of where we may be needed next.

We sped off to the Causeway, only stopping as needed to clear a path to get there. What greeted us shocked us to the core. It is difficult to express the sight: the Causeway was shattered. We knew there was a search and rescue operation underway.

I walked as far as I could to the halfway point of the shattered Causeway, fractured like one sees of earthquakes in the movies. We couldn’t get beyond the midpoint, at least not safely.

Having surveyed the scene, we returned to Grotto Bay, pushed back onlookers as far as Swizzle Inn and set up a security cordon. Only emergency vehicles allowed.

Tragedy

It is said that during war there is a fog, in the sense that one doesn’t fully grasp the whole of what is going on at the time, and only afterwards is one able to sort of piece things together. The same applied after Fabian. We knew that marine police were searching the waters but we didn’t really grasp the severity of the situation, though of course we wondered. Were they looking for something? Someone? Just checking the structural damage? We only learned later, in the barracks, that there had been deaths. It cast a shadow over the barracks as we digested the news with our rations. At that time, our job was to prevent curious onlookers trying to get past us to see the Causeway.

The next few days kept us busy. My unit was mostly clearing roads. I mostly remember the stretch from Watch Hill Park through to Collectors Hill, and then some sites out in the West End, clearing school campuses. We didn’t really have time to reflect on things. It was wake up, eat food, head out, work, back to Warwick Camp, eat, sleep, rinse and repeat. It was only on the anniversary of Fabian, and every hurricane since in the years after that, I’ve had the opportunity to reflect on that day.

There is a certain beauty in the aftermath of storms. The air is fresher. The stars are brighter due to the blackouts. The tree-frogs are louder. There is the hum of generators. I associate the aftermath of hurricanes with the scent of jasmine. I’m not sure why. They can give one a greater appreciation of life, how precious and fragile it is. I spent the next few weeks working hard, clearing debris, sleeping when I could. Appreciating life in the aftermath of the tragedy at the Causeway. My frame of reference for hurricanes was no longer Emily, but Fabian and Shakespeare’s Tempest.

Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises,

Sounds and sweet airs, that delight and hurt not.

Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments

Will hum about mine ears; and sometime voices

That, if I then waked after long sleep,

Will make me sleep again; and then in dreaming,

The clouds methought would open, and show riches

Ready to drop upon me, that when I awaked,

I cried to dream again!

The post Serving in the shadow of tragedy appeared first on RG Magazines.

The storm barrelled the island with with wind speeds of 138mph, damaging 40 per cent of our buildings, destroying two homes and sinking two ships.

The hurricane was so called because it formed south of Cuba, in the Caribbean sea.

HMS Valerian

The greatest loss came through the sinking of HMS Valerian, a British naval ship returning to Bermuda after providing hurricane relief to the Bahamas.

“The fact that she was returning from an errand of mercy to the Bahamas – visited twice this year by hurricanes – adds an ironical note to the affair,” reported The Royal Gazette and Colonist Daily on October 25, 1926.

Even in those days, forecasters knew this storm was approaching Bermuda, but it moved quicker than anticipated, overtaking the Valerian, and sinking her 18 miles south of the island at 1pm on that fateful day.

At one point, she had been in sight of Gibbs Hill but when Commander William Usher couldn’t see any marker buoys, he thought it would be safer to ride out the storm offshore and decided to head back out to sea.

The exact number of lives lost is difficult to determine. The official report into the wreck states that 86 crew members perished, but an order of service from the memorial service held at Bermuda Cathedral on October 31, 1926, stated: “A Memorial Service for the 89 Officers and Men of HMS Valerian, who lost their lives in the hurricane of October 22^nd.”

What is known, however is that this loss affected Bermuda greatly.

“A profound gloom was spread over the island and the utmost sympathy is felt for the relatives and friends of the victims,” reported the newspaper.

“HMS Valerian was a popular ship on the Station, and officers and men had made many friends,” the article continued.

In a feat of amazing strength, 19 crew members, including Commander Usher, survived by holding onto a raft for 21 hours before being rescued by HMS Cape Town.

SS Eastway

Six hours after the Valerian went down, disaster struck again when the cargo ship, SS Eastway, went down 100 to 120 miles north of Bermuda. A total of 22 men drowned that evening and 12 managed to survive by scrambling into a lifeboat. According to the Board of Trade inquiry into the incident, they were rescued by the Luciline at noon the following day and brought to St George’s.

Amid this tragedy however, was also great bravery as commended by John Hayes, MP for Liverpool Edge Hill, speaking in the UK Parliament on December 15, 1926.

“The engineers and firemen refused to overload the remaining lifeboat and went down with the ship rather than endanger the lives of their comrades,” he said.

Damage on land

The only significant injuries on land were those done to buildings, trees and crops.

Reporting in the October 2026 issue of Monthly Weather Review, W.H. Potter noted: “Apart from two houses, unoccupied, destroyed in Hamilton, the damage, while rather large in the aggregate, was for the most part small individually.

“No one was killed and one slightly injured, and there was no damage to speak of to the small boats in the harbour. The telephone was hit hard, but the electric lights were on in Hamilton by 7pm the 22^nd and here across the harbour by the next evening.”

The majority of the damage, he observed, happened during the second half of the storm, after the eye had passed. Casualties included The Colonial Opera House on Victoria Street where, reported The Royal Gazette and Colonist Daily, “portions of the stone work were carried over the surrounding houses until they went through an actual bombardment”. A large piece went through the roof of a Mr A. Vallis and smashed a wardrobe and another landed between the dining room and kitchen within six inches of a Mrs C.W. Pantry.

A child in Cook’s Hill, Somerset, had a narrow escape when the house belonging to Mr Albert Gilbert had its gable end blown in, roof carried away, and ceiling partially blown in.

“In one room, a child was resting in a perambulator when it was noticed that bits of ceiling began to fall.

“The child was removed to another room by Mrs Gilbert just in the nick of time, when the whole ceiling of the room from which the child had been removed came down.”

There were more close calls and acts of bravery in Dockyard when HMS Calcutta was swept away from the jetty. To prevent further damage, two officers “jumped into the water with life-buoys, and swam downwind with lines to the Calcutta, which enabled her to haul other hawsers on board”.

A hawser is a heavy rope used for mooring ships.

Her crew, along with the crew of another ship, HMS Wistaria then did “their utmost to help the Calcutta through her trouble, which was a nine hour struggle against the elements”.

Other news reports of the storm include damaged roofs and windows, destroyed crops, particularly banana trees, and downed cedar trees.

As tragic as the loss of life was, Bermuda fared better than Cuba, where news from October 21, 1926 reported 650 people killed, 2,100 injured, 10 towns and villages completely destroyed, and 6,500 people left homeless.

Even by modern day standards, especially when we consider what some Caribbean nations have been through in recent years following the wrath of hurricanes such as Irma, Maria and Melissa, the fact that only 40 per cent of Bermuda’s buildings were damaged by a Category 4 hurricane in an age before modern storm tracking, is a sign of strength that prevails to this day.

The post Bermuda’s deadliest storm appeared first on RG Magazines.

First introduced to Bermuda in the late 18th century by the British military garrison in St George’s, their job was to shade a building’s façade from the sunlight, and serve as a semi-private space for receiving visitors.

With modern technology and building materials, however, verandas have effectively become an additional room, adding valuable square footage as living, dining, cooking, relaxing and entertaining areas in their own right.

At the forefront of this modern design are Jacob Hocking and Lauren Grayston, owner and partner respectively of CTX Design Group, along with their team of architectural technicians and interior designers. They sat down with RG Home to explain how versatile verandas can be, what is possible with today’s technology and materials, and shared design tips for making the most of these shaded outdoor areas.

Exterior design

When designing a veranda from scratch, the priority, said Mr Hocking, is orientation.

“It has to be something that people want to occupy, and it has to perform the function it’s designed to perform, like provide proper shelter from the elements,” he said.

To ensure good ventilation, they should be designed “so at least two sides are open so that you can get cross breezes through them”.

He said: “Shade is one thing, but hot air and getting it to pass out of that space is important as well.”

It also needs to suit the house, so proportion is vital, but it also has to be sized for its intended use.

“If it’s a dining veranda, then it has to suit the dining table. If it’s a conversational setup, then it needs to fit the seating arrangement or furnishings that you want to have, and it needs to, at a minimum, meet those requirements.”

With so many verandas now providing a seamless indoor-outdoor living experience, they no longer have to sit at the entryway. Instead, they should be connected to the natural life of the home.

“Most will link to living rooms or kitchens. Those are the rooms that tend to benefit most from the connection to daily life,” he said, adding that “proximity to a garden or a swimming pool, some other feature of the property,” is also a benefit.

“Increasingly, people want a more relaxed, informal, nature-connected home and the veranda is the interface between the shelter of a home and the openness of nature.”

Fixtures, fittings, interior design

The most successful design feature for seamless indoor-outdoor and connected living incorporates wide openings with large sliding or accordion glass doors and flush sills, meaning the inside and outside are all on one level.

This can be taken a step further by using the same floor tile throughout, but with a non-slip finish for the exterior tiles, along with glass railings in place of traditional wooden ones. Ms Grayston said this “makes it feel even bigger, more connected”.

Another feature that has turned the veranda into a year-round useable space are hurricane screens, particularly electric ones, which roll up and down at the touch of a button. In addition to storm protection, said Mr Hocking, they offer “privacy, shade and security”.

Budget permitting, there is then no end to the “bells and whistles” you can add to make the veranda your favourite ‘room’ in the house.

“Kitchens, weather resistant cabinetry, Sunbrella fabrics,” Ms Grayston said. “Outdoor appliances,” added Mr Hocking.

One veranda they designed for a water front home in Riddell’s Bay had several different outdoor living and entertaining areas, including a sunken BBQ kitchen and a swim-up bar. They integrated planting to soften the hard surfaces and create separation between the different spaces without disconnecting them.

“They use it all the time,” Ms Grayston said.

Budget

If budget is a concern, note that simplicity saves money.

“The roof is the driving cost, so anything you can do to simplify the structure of the roof,” Mr Hocking suggested.

“Like, working with standard lumber lengths. If you go to Gorhams and buy a 12-foot rafter, that will probably do a 10-foot deep porch. Don’t buy a 14-foot rafter, because you’ll just cut three feet off of it and throw it in the trash. Be efficient with your material selection and the sizes based on the materials available.”

You can also find ways to maximise space. For a home on Oswego Island, Mr Hocking came up with a creative design featuring an interior dining room with two porch areas either side; the dining room has floor to ceiling glass doors on three sides so it can be opened up to create one long veranda.

“We were able to make a smaller porch feel larger by allowing an interior room to contribute to some of its square footage,” he said.

They also recommended investing in durable materials to keep maintenance costs down. For example, wooden columns can decay at the base, but you can create moisture gaps by setting them up on masonry plinths or stainless steel brackets.

Dream verandas

If money were no object, Ms Grayston’s ideal veranda would have large, open, wooden doors overlooking the water with conversational seating, a dining area and kitchen all connected to a pool, along with a fireplace or fire pit for ambiance. She would also love a wood panelled ceiling to warm her space up.

Mr Hocking’s ideal veranda would be “restrained but refined”, with natural materials such as limestone, hardwood and patinaed metals, as well as deep overhangs and openings that frame landscape views.

He would also love “multiple zones”, including a quiet area with a suspended daybed or hammock and lighting that is warm and subtle.

“Not just stick lights into the ceiling, use either uplights or bounce lights off of surfaces so that they’re not direct. It just gives a glow,” he said.

The post Vibrant verandas appeared first on RG Magazines.

But imagine what life was like for our island’s early settlers, who sheltered in dwellings built from mud and stud with palmetto-thatched roofs.

From the moment the Sea Venture grounded on the reef in 1609, survival in Bermuda depended on exploiting natural resources to construct dwellings capable of withstanding the dreadful and hideous storms that accompany life in a hurricane zone.

Early building techniques

Speculation still exists regarding the location and nature of the earliest dwellings constructed by the island’s early population. But we know that architectural techniques in Bermuda evolved through the combined influence of weather, necessity and lived experience.

“The evolution of how people did things depended very much on where they were situated,” said Larry Mills, director of the St David’s Historical Society.

“In Bermuda there are even instances where people growing up in Somerset learned different techniques from people living in St David’s.

“A lot of men worked on ships and travelled to foreign settlements, so it is also very likely that they adopted ideas and techniques they encountered during their travels.”

When the first settlers arrived in 1612, resources available included cedar, palmetto leaves and stone. According to the Department of Planning’s Traditional Building Guide, these materials “were unfamiliar, and each presented problems”.

It explained: “Cedar was dense and strong, but it only grew to a limited height and thickness. Palmetto leaves dried out and sometimes caught fire in the hot weather. Bermuda stone was far softer than any the settlers had previously known.”

Although we know little about how these first buildings were constructed, we do know that wood was the favoured material, and settlers bound for Bermuda were advised to bring “sawes, hammers, pearcers, pincers and nailes of all sortes so many as will serve to build a house with”.

Richard Spurling, chairman of the St David’s Historical Society, said: “The first settlers would have quickly realised that traditional European building styles were ill-suited to Bermuda’s climate.

“In those early years, they drew heavily on the experience of settlers in Jamestown, Virginia who had already learned to work with whatever materials were at hand.”

In Jamestown, homes were put up in haste using rough, bark-covered logs.

Mr Spurling said: “Because the timber was uneven, gaps formed between each course which were filled, a process known as chinking, to make the structures more weathertight.

“Here in Bermuda, they needed small, secure, weatherproof dwellings and they discovered that cedar, clay, palmetto and lime were readily available. After digging post holes, a wooden frame was most likely erected and then covered with cedar lathes which they plastered with a lime or clay mixture.”

Mr Mills said: “We also know that they would have understood gable roof design and thatching techniques as they existed in the UK at that time.

“These people were incredibly resourceful and quickly turned to palmettos, which were plentiful in the St George’s and St David’s areas, as a material for thatching.

“However, the thatch was most likely not nailed down but rather secured with handmade palmetto rope or thin strands of the frond which they used to tie the thatch to the underside of the rafters, none of which held fast under hurricane conditions.”

Early colonial records describe powerful storms in 1619, 1629, and 1669 that damaged homes, ships, crops and public buildings.

Over time, these hurricanes exposed the weakness of Bermuda’s early mud-and-stud houses, creating a desire for stronger storm-resistant dwellings. By the end of the century, settlers in St George’s were only being granted land on the condition that they build houses of stone.

The Settler’s Cabben

The Settler’s Cabben, designed by local architect Stephen West, is a heritage project at the Carter House Museum to mark the 400th anniversary of the arrival of the first settlers in St David’s in 1612.

Tools authentic to the period were sourced locally and in the United States, and every stage of construction proved a learning process.

Mr Spurling said: “There is quite a bit of speculation regarding exactly what these first dwellings looked like, so the design was based on a small woodcut image visible in the corner of John Smith’s 1624 map of Bermuda.

“The rough cedar frame is covered with a crude stucco composed of a Bermuda clay, sand, and twig mixture and is very similar to the ‘wattle and daub’ building techniques that the original settlers would have used.

“The only real difference is that we used nails to secure the thatch instead of simply tying it to the rafters.

“We initially hoped that the structure would last three years, but we have just rethatched the roof for the third time and the building is still in remarkably good condition.”

The Cabben itself has now lost its roof twice during major storms, in 2019 and again in 2025, further illustrating the vulnerability of early Bermudian dwellings.

Shark oil

Survival in Bermuda depended not only on dwellings to shelter in, but also on learning to read the signs of approaching weather.

Eager to devise a way to predict the arrival of hurricanes, early residents noticed that a clear glass jar containing liquid shark oil extracted from a young shark’s liver appeared to respond to changes in atmospheric conditions, turning cloudy or milky with the onset of deteriorating weather. By the early 1700s, it was common practice to hang a bottle outside one’s house.

Over time, the most seasoned observers began to discern subtle variations in the sediment, movement and opacity of the oil, giving rise to increasingly accurate predictions of approaching storms and wind direction.

In Bermuda, nature has always both destroyed and enabled. Passing storms continually tested building techniques resulting in an architectural style born not from theory, but from lived experience.

The post Our storm-weathering forefathers appeared first on RG Magazines.

From the age of 10, working alongside his father, he developed a lifelong relationship with the soil. Today, as both a chaplain and master gardener, he blends cultivation with community service.

That work became his Grow, Eat, Save programme, which he has led for the past decade through the Department of Health.

He launched it in response to rising food costs, increased reliance on imports, and the loss of traditional knowledge.

“If people learn to grow more of what they eat,” he said, “they can eat healthier, spend less and strengthen food security.”

In Bermuda, where hurricanes are part of life, that also means learning to protect crops and rebuild after storms.

As a storm approaches, Dr Santucci keeps the focus simple.

“The first thing I always tell people is to harvest what they can. Don’t leave mature crops to be destroyed by wind and rain.”

Preparation then turns to securing the space.

“Secure everything, pots, tools and anything loose, because the wind will take what is not anchored.”

Taller plants should be “supported or gently tied down,” while weak branches are pruned ahead of time. The aim is survival.

“You are not trying to perfect the garden; you are trying to help it survive.”

That includes protecting the soil. Mulch where possible and ensure drainage is working properly, since “too much standing water can be just as damaging as the wind.”

Delicate crops can be covered where possible, but simple steps make a difference.

“In Bermuda’s climate, gardeners must work with salt air, strong sun, humidity and frequent storms,” he said.

“Some crops are better suited than others,” Dr Santucci noted, adding that “the plants that hold up best tend to be resilient, deep-rooted, and adaptable”.

He pointed to root crops like sweet potatoes, cassava, and yams; hardy greens such as callaloo, kale, Swiss chard, and okra; fruit trees including banana, papaya, guava, mango, and loquat; along with herbs and salt-tolerant plants like rosemary, thyme, sea grape and aloe.

“Success is not just about what is planted, but how it is grown within our environment,” Dr Santucci said.

He highlights low, wind-resistant planting, mixed crops, raised beds, compost-rich soil and “succession planting” to sustain harvests. After the storm passes, patience takes over.

“The first thing I always tell people is to be safe, don’t rush into the garden until you know it is clear of hazards.”

Then comes observation.

“Not everything that looks damaged is lost” he reminded us.

“Start by clearing what is dangerous or blocking the space,” Dr Santucci said, advising gardeners “not to be too quick to remove everything,” as some plants “just need support, a little pruning and time to recover.”

He recommended re-staking fallen plants, covering exposed roots, rinsing off salt where needed and restoring soil with compost and mulch after heavy rain.

Recovery takes time.

“Don’t try to rebuild the whole garden in one day. You start with what survives, then rebuild step by step.”

And in Dr Santucci’s advice, we hear more than just advice related to the garden.

Hurricanes expose how fragile human systems are, but they also reveal the importance of resilience, community support and faith in rebuilding.

“The garden is never truly destroyed; it is only waiting to be restored.”

Those words inspire the heart and the gardening hands, in that the work after a hurricane is not simply recovery, but part of a natural rhythm, not an ending, but a new beginning.

Protect your outdoors

RG Hurricane top tips

• Think about your neighbours. Even if you’re not worried about the bulky items in your garden, they might be. In a storm, they can become dangerous projectiles, and the storm gods don’t discriminate whose garden they end up in, or whose windows they smash through.
• Prioritise dealing with your large pieces of outdoor furniture. If you leave it too late, you’ll be that guy dragging the patio table across the lawn in the pouring rain as the hurricane hurtles towards Bermuda. Don’t be that guy.
• If you’ve got a shed – use it! Load it with as much as your outdoor stuff as you can. It doesn’t matter how unwieldy it gets inside that shed for the next couple of days. But make sure your generator or barbecue equipment isn’t packed shoved away in the back corner. You might be needing them tomorrow!
• If you haven’t got a shed – use your home! The trampoline and barbecue might become annoying up obstacles in your living room, but that’s a step up from leaving them to the whim of the storm. Don’t be tempted to use the BBQ in the house though.
• Final bit of advice on the shed: tie it down with strong rope and sturdy fasteners. Nobody wants somebody else’s shed flying through their garden in the middle of a storm.

The post Sowing resilience appeared first on RG Magazines.

Most of us only think about storms when one is heading towards us and we start to make preparations to stay safe.

Yet each of these everyday activities contributes — even on a tiny scale — to the climate change that may influence the strength and behaviour of hurricanes affecting Bermuda in the future.

The overwhelming majority of scientists agree that human activity is driving climate change.

The fossil fuels we burn for our air conditioning and vehicles are a major source of greenhouse gas emissions, while beef is one of the most emissions-intensive foods in the world.

Those emissions drive global warming, including increased sea temperatures, which increase the potential for stronger hurricanes.

Andy Moore, a natural catastrophe modeller at Arch Reinsurance, explained that waters near the ocean’s surface have warmed significantly globally and in the Atlantic Basin over the past 20 to 30 years.

The same is true for Bermuda: the oceans surrounding the island are about 0.75°C warmer now than in the late 1900s.

Mr Moore said: “All else being equal, warmer oceans provide additional energy to hurricanes, giving them the potential to become stronger.

“The warming we have seen thus far has raised the maximum potential intensity of storms in our vicinity around 5mph.”

‘New normal’

Francis Kredensor, Bermuda Weather Service’s deputy director, said while there was “no clear signal” on climate change having an impact on the number of hurricanes, we may already be seeing overall tropical cyclone intensity and associated rainfall increasing.

He said many interconnected factors went into hurricane frequency and intensity, so it was hard for researchers to “definitively” say that any changes to date were due to the overall effects of climate change.

“But the fact that two-thirds of Atlantic hurricane seasons since 1995 have been assessed as being ‘above normal’ or ‘extremely active’ points to us being in a new normal, whatever the cause,” he added.

Climate Central, an independent group of scientists researching climate change, tracks sea temperatures daily on its Climate Shift Index.

Data from the index in mid-May gave the ocean temperature around Bermuda as 22.4°C, which was 1°C hotter than usual for the date.

The index suggested climate change made the unusually warm ocean conditions “at least three times more likely”.

Mark Guishard, chief operating officer at the Bermuda Institute of Ocean Sciences and the author of the 2022 report Climate Change and Bermuda, said oceans absorbed around 90 per cent of the excess heat produced by human-induced warming.

“At Bios, we’ve been monitoring the warming of the surface of the Atlantic Ocean near Bermuda for over 70 years,” he said.

“Future model projections indicate that upper ocean warming will accelerate in the coming decades.”

Does the evidence point to more intense storms reaching Bermuda in future?

Dr Guishard said: “The energy available to support hurricane development is accumulating.”

Mr Kredensor said the single biggest factor affecting storm intensity was ocean temperatures so “all else being equal, as waters continue to warm, stronger storms are increasingly likely and they’re likely to reach further north”.

Mr Moore agreed. He said: “The Atlantic Basin has already seen a significant trend in the proportion of Atlantic hurricanes that become major hurricanes [category 3 to 5] and this proportion is forecast to increase further.”

He said the heightened risk was also expected in Bermuda and was detailed in a 2024 government report on climate change by Smith Warner International Ltd.

That study concluded that Bermuda’s future would “likely be characterised by more intense hurricanes”, bringing higher winds and greater rainfall.

It said a likely increase in rainfall rate of between 20 and 33 per cent was projected, particularly near the hurricane’s core, by the century’s end.

Mr Kredensor said: “There is increasing confidence in research pointing towards climate change causing increases in overall storm intensity going forward, as well as heavier rains associated with tropical cyclones.”

Bermuda is ‘exceptionally vulnerable’

The Government has acknowledged the challenges posed by climate change, including warmer seas.

Former home affairs minister Walter Roban said in November 2024: “Though Bermuda’s contribution to global greenhouse gas emissions is minimal, we find ourselves on the front lines of climate impacts.

“Like other small island and developing states, Bermuda is exceptionally vulnerable to climate impacts.”

The Smith Warner study cited figures from a 2021 report by ocean climate scientist Samantha Hallam and others, which analysed tropical cyclone intensity and potential intensity in the subtropical Atlantic around Bermuda from an ocean heat content perspective.

The authors found the maximum wind speeds for hurricanes in Bermuda had increased 30 knots from 1955 to 2019. They measured an average increase of 7.7 knots per decade from 1980 to 2009.

The Smith Warner report noted that “in recent years, Bermuda has experienced several significant storms that caused widespread flooding and damage”.

It said 2014’s Hurricane Gonzalo caused “extensive damage” and the same year saw the “first season in recorded history to feature two hurricane landfalls in Bermuda”.

No one can say exactly what Bermuda’s hurricane seasons will look like in 10, 20 or 30 years’ time — but the evidence suggests we must prepare for stronger storms.

Dr Guishard, in his 2022 report, said one more major storm per decade in our region was projected by a few modelling studies.

The Smith Warner report flagged up the “necessity to revise building codes to address this escalating threat in the medium to long term”.

Kim Smith, executive director of Bermuda Environment Sustainability Taskforce, said we could all do our part on climate change but the threat we face needs both individual and collective efforts.

“What we need from the Government is for there to be a national policy and action plan for the mitigation of and adaptation to climate change,” she said.

“In the absence of that, we might just be shooting in the dark.”

The post Warmer seas, stronger storms? appeared first on RG Magazines.

While headlines focus on categories and numbers, those who have lived through these storms know that their true power lies in the experience itself: how they sound, how they feel, what they take, and what they leave behind.

In Bermuda, hurricanes are remembered not by statistics, but by the stories they leave in their wake.

My own first real experience of hurricanes was Hurricane Emily in 1987.

At that time, I worked for a captive management company which was headquartered in Detroit, Michigan.

We closed our local office early that day and everyone went home. Right in the middle of the hurricane, I received a call from head office. The woman told me that she wasn’t getting an answer from the office.

So, I explained that we were in a hurricane and I was at home. Not to be outdone she declared that she could not hear any strong winds, especially if it was a hurricane.

Fair point – however as luck would have it (or not) at that very time we were experiencing the eye of the hurricane, hence there was absolutely no noise. Even the birds outside my window were hushed. Emily was a direct hit on the island.

To this day I’m not sure she believed me.

Hot nights without power

In another serious blow, I will never forget the impact of Hurricane Fabian in 2003.

By then we were living in Hamilton Parish, and we had a lovely lady who lived next door. A most talented schoolteacher who lived on her own. So, as neighbours do, we invited her over the first night we were without power.

Needless to say, we had every excuse to partake of an alcoholic beverage (vodka as I recall) because tea, coffee, even a cold juice, were not available.

We were thoroughly convinced we were doing right. And while I haven’t drunk much (if any) thereafter, including to this very day, our one-night party turned into nine nights – in fact 220 hours to be precise.

We say outside, even though September was hot (even worse inside), on our balcony overlooking Shelly Hall and beyond, all the way to Dockyard.

Thankfully, our beverage of choice helped to combat the annoyance of watching the rest of the neighbourhood, and for some distance, get their power back, one by one, night after night. Each night for the nine nights, we kept convincing ourselves that it is “getting closer”.

Worse than the jungles

We had good friends back at that time, who lived across from the hospital, in a slightly hilly area. Apparently, the same hurricane blew the windows of their house out at both back and front in the middle of the first night.

He told me: “Bill, for a few years I served in the British Army in several tough places around the world. From astonishing heat in the Middle East to jungles in the Far East, to typically English rain. But I have never been so scared as I was that first night. There was nothing I could do.”

The wind and rain were coming in the front side of his house, blowing straight through and out the back side, taking everything in its wake.

“While I never served in heavy combat in the Army, there were many skirmishes now and again and I honestly believed they were the most frightening times of my life. Until I was faced with Hurricane Fabian.” A not-forgettable time of life.

Community spirit

Hurricane Franklin, in 2023, caused enormous damage not only to the Crawl Hill gas station itself but heavily impacted the entire community.

The station took the full brunt of the winds from the ocean right across the street and severely damaged the large metal canopy that covers the gas pumps. The result was that the remaining structure was deemed to be a serious structural risk. It had to close and did not reopen until early 2024.

According to Joe Marable, the station’s operator, while the long closure was a clear and frustrating struggle in terms of rebuilding, the loss of revenue was catastrophic.

“It took us over a year to get back on our feet and in some respects, we are still not back to full strength,” he said.

Mr Marable, however, added: “Throughout the ordeal, the community supported us immensely. Neighbours would sometimes just swing by to say hello and make sure we were on the mend.

“It is sometimes hard to fully appreciate how the community relies on essential services such as gas stations across the island.”

In other words, the impact of severe storms is not just what happened during the storm, but in many cases, throughout the time it takes to rebuild not only the physical damage but the knock-on effect to other people and the emotional toll.

It is abundantly clear that advance warnings of impending storms and the advice to have essentials like food, water, plywood perhaps, tools, tarpaulins and some form of light in the house or business premises is critical to support people, property and perhaps above all, emotions.

Predicting localised damage is almost impossible, but being prepared is clear, simple and essential.

Many years ago, I was speaking with an insurance executive who had visited Bermuda many times. He said he couldn’t figure out why an island in the middle of the Atlantic, only 20 miles long, can be battered so severely by major hurricanes.

How does it even find the island? he asked.

After I had tried to explain that hurricanes typically follow a standard path emanating from the Caribbean, travelling over warm waters, sometimes skirting the Eastern Seaboard and then normally barrelling north-east, there is no doubt that Bermuda is always on the lookout.

I asked him: “Do you accept that Florida can easily, sometimes regularly, be hit with hurricanes?”

“Of course,” he replied.

“And do hurricanes move north, not south?”

“Yes,” said he.

I rest my case.

The post Hurricanes that shape us appeared first on RG Magazines.

“Even if you skip one milking, it can get really bad,” explained McLaren Smith, 35.

Mr Smith is one of the owners of Westover Farm in Sandys, the family farm where he grew up, and, in addition to their dairy herd, they also have sheep, goats, and a wide variety of vegetables and grains.

On the day we meet, his 40 sheep are all pregnant, and he is expecting about 60 to 70 lambs within the next two months. His dairy herd consists of 17 cows – 16 Holstein Friesians and one Jersey cow. He is hoping to increase this herd to about 60 or 70 milking cows.

Like everyone else, when a major storm threatens the island, it’s all hands on deck securing the farm infrastructure.

“We make sure all the roofs are fixed, properly tied down. We’ve got to cut the trees away from the wires,” he said.

The livestock not be under these roofs. With the exception of the very young calves, he lets the animals out into the open fields where they take care of themselves and each other.

“They all huddle. They’ll move around the field as a herd,” he explained.

For the sheep, he added: “If there’s any young stock, they’ll put young stock in the centre and all of them will surround them, and they’ll take turns going in the middle. The cows tend to do the same thing, but they’re big animals, so they’ll just find a spot in the field and hunker down for the night and they’ll move around as the wind changes.”

Any calf of three months old or younger cannot remain outside in these conditions because their bodies haven’t developed enough to handle it, and the constant wind could make them sick, or worse. Instead they will be brought into the milking area, where they can be shut in securely.

While hurricanes are far from ideal conditions for dairy cows, they only have a minor impact on milk production, and this isn’t caused by stress, but by the fact that they are moving around a lot.

“They’re not able to lay down so we will see a slight decrease in milk, the next milking. But, once the storm’s passed, then you’re back up. So, we’re only looking at one milking where the milk will actually decrease,” Mr Smith said.

Nervy times

The process of getting them milked during the hurricane can be quite stressful for the farmer, especially as cows do not like being in the holding pen during a storm, while waiting to be milked. They will run around in circles and kick, so he said he just has to get it done as quickly as possible.

Once the power goes, a generator fuels all the equipment and gets the milk cold.

In addition to bringing his dairy herd in to be milked, Mr Smith also needs to bring the sheep in to be fed and has to walk the fields, checking the animals and making sure the fences are still up.

“We don’t want to put them in barns because if anything happens to the structural integrity of the barn, then they could injure the cows,” he explained.

Does he ever feel nervous about being out in a hurricane? “Yeah, I had a piece of roofing fly across my head a few years ago and I didn’t see it until it went past me.”

Taking a dip

Mr Smith has witnessed his fair share of storms and, without wanting to tempt fate, his animals have been kept safe so far. This doesn’t mean he hasn’t had worries or surprises, such as after one hurricane, when they woke up to find almost all their sheep had jumped into the ocean.

“I was probably about 16 years old when that happened,” he recalled. “It wasn’t hurricane force winds, but it was still pretty strong, and we went to check the sheep and they weren’t there. When we looked in the water, we could just see little white heads in the water.”

Amazingly, and in spite of the weather, none of them drowned, thanks to Mr Smith and his Uncle, Richard Bascome Sr.

“I had to jump in the water and swim them in, one by one. That was fun,” he laughed.

His uncle was on the rocks, hoisting them up. Back then they had around 60 sheep, with all but 10 going for a swim.

He can’t be sure exactly why the sheep did that, but something likely scared them. Either that or, he joked, “maybe they were hot and went for a dip”.

On another occasion, both their hay barn and main barn blew away. The main barn landed in a field, but the hay barn was never found and had to be completely rebuilt.

While he has been able to keep his livestock safe during all these hurricanes, unfortunately the same can’t be said for the vegetable side of the farm, which is managed by his cousins, and for which the timing of Bermuda’s hurricane season is particularly cruel.

“Hurricane season is prime planting season, not prime harvesting season,” he said. “That’s when everything’s in the ground so when storms hit, they normally hit when plants are young and you just have to refit and refix.”

In advance of the storm, they will harvest whatever they can and then prepare the crops as much as possible.

For cassava, for example, this means cutting the leaves so there’s nothing for the wind to catch. For everything else, he explained: “You just have to mole them up, which is bringing soil closer to the plant to hopefully keep them steady. It’s a gamble, but that’s all you can do.”

The post The farm must go on appeared first on RG Magazines.

What was hailed by the late James A. Ziral, writing in The Bermudian, as “the largest military defence utilisation of money, manpower and materials in nineteenth century Bermuda,” has become a cultural hub, cruise ship destination and one of Bermuda’s most visited tourist attractions.

Walking around Dockyard today, visitors can marvel at the imposing Commissioner’s House, former Cooperage, Victualling Yard and Keep, which now house restaurants, shops, Dolphin Quest and the National Museum of Bermuda.

Behind these huge stone monuments however, lie stories not just of military might, but also of human strength, misery and skill.

What did it take, for example, to construct such fortifications and undertake the work required of a Royal Naval Dockyard throughout the turbulent 1800s and early 1900s? Who were the people that physically transformed what had been wooden wharves and storehouses into one of the best examples of imperial naval architecture and engineering in the world?

Early labourers

“The adequate supply of labour was one of the greatest threats to Bermuda’s imperial development,” wrote Anna McKay, then a collaborative doctoral student at the National Maritime Museum, Greenwich, and the University of Leicester, in a 2018 article for the NMM.

The Royal Navy had acquired Ireland Island in 1809, after the American Revolution meant the loss of naval bases along the United States’ eastern seaboard. Initially, contracted labourers were brought over from England, and in 1810, wrote Ms McKay, “enslaved Black men from Bermuda appeared in the Dockyard account books.”

As locals, she added, “they provided expert knowledge and experience but did not have any choice in the matter, nor did they receive wages of their own.”

French and American prisoners of war also worked at the Dockyard, as did enslaved refugees who came to Bermuda from America.

In 1823, she continued, “the construction of the Dockyard was greatly enhanced… by the arrival of convicts.”

They were housed in unsanitary prison hulks, moored off the Dockyard and St. George’s, and worked there until 1863.

“If they behaved well, convicts could be pardoned or take a ‘ticket-of-leave’ in the Australian colonies. They were not allowed to settle on the island as residents objected to this.”

For those working at the Dockyard during this period, conditions were harsh. In addition to suffering from exposure to the elements and injury from the back-breaking work, many suffered damaged eyesight caused by light reflecting off the white stone, and, explained Ms McKay, yellow fever epidemics “frequently wiped out scores of convicts and military personnel.”

Dockyard apprentices

While the horrendous circumstances of those early workers make for grim reading, there was a more positive labour legacy that emerged from the Dockyard. The Dockyard apprenticeship programme trained generations of young men as master tradesmen, including carpenters, plumbers, electricians, welders, engine fitters and shipwrights.

In her July 19^th 2023 Royal Gazette article, ‘The Dockyard Apprentices’, historian, Cecille Snaith-Simmons, wrote: “In 1844, a racially integrated school opened in the Dockyard to provide general and technical education for the children of Admiralty employees.”

One hundred years later, the British Admiralty opened the school to Bermudians in an apprenticeship programme. In 1950, when the Dockyard closure was announced, the final group of 49 apprentices were sent to Portsmouth, England, to complete their education.

This provided an employment lifeline at a time when the Dockyard’s closure meant many Bermudians lost their jobs and businesses.

The ‘Bermuda Family Scrapbook’ section of the NMB website includes a number of personal recollections from those whose family members had been Dockyard Apprentices.

Angela Fraser-Pitcher shared the story of her father, Harcourt “Jack” Fraser, who went to Portsmouth in 1950 to complete his training as a plumber.

“He returned to Bermuda in 1954 and was employed by Burrows Junius H Plumbing Ltd until he joined the HM prisons Service in 1971 as a prison officer having responsibility for plumbing.”

Another submission highlights marine engineer, Edward William “Buster” Gibbons, who also went to Portsmouth in 1950, met his wife there, and moved back to Bermuda in October 1963 where he worked in the Dockyard.

“I remember as a child going to Dockyard with my dad,” recalled his daughter, Beverley McLean. “You had to check in with a security guard at the entrance. A lot of the buildings, which are now shops, were workshops for the Dockyard.”

She continued: “He was rarely idle and built many household items. He even built himself a couple of boats!”

The future of Dockyard

While history has always celebrated military success, the personal histories of those who built and worked in the Dockyard are the focus of its future.

“Dockyard plays an essential role in Bermuda’s collective memory and civic life,” said Elena Strong, NMB executive director.

“Heritage research shows that museums are particularly important for small island communities in providing space to engage with contested and difficult histories. For Bermuda, this includes confronting legacies of enslavement, colonialism and inequality.”

Looking to the future, she said, “requires moving beyond static preservation towards inclusive, emotionally resonant, and research-led interpretation.”

This means “shifting interpretation from monuments to lived experience. Its story must be told not only as one of military engineering, but as a complex Atlantic World site shaped by enslavement, colonial labour, migration, resistance, and global exchange.”

At present, she said, much of the Dockyard’s interpretation is concentrated within the museum, however she would like this to change.

The future, she said, lies in “developing layered, flexible forms of interpretation, using discreet signage, digital tools, art, and storytelling that respect Dockyard’s operational nature and historic environment while helping visitors understand the history embedded in the landscape”.

The museum also envisions Casemates as a centre for Atlantic World Studies, which, Ms Strong said, “recognises that Bermuda’s heritage is both a local responsibility and a global contribution.”

She hopes that those whose ancestors built and worked in the Dockyard will become “active partners in shaping how its history is told”.

The post Dockyard’s human legacy appeared first on RG Magazines.