6:43pm Seems like the east side of the island took the brunt of the hurricane-force winds on Bob's way up the Sakonnet, probably what explains all the trees and phone poles on East Main road. I've made it down to Middle road, and even here, there are trees blocking the entire street. But here, people have just driven over and crushed down stretches of them. A reflexive turn-taking protocol has developed: you have to go by in one lane and wave other people through.

True to the predictions, once Bob passed, the sky to the west and south is clear; there are a few straggling outrider clouds, but sunshine past and above them. I'm glad I've got the room at the HoJo's rather than hunkering down in the Park, which promises to be pretty grim this evening.

Coming down West Main, there's a truly tremendous lighting effect by the Stop&Shop. The setting sun has just peeked out from underneath the cloud bank, and off to the east past the airport the rays have lit up the bottom side of the cloud sheet far over the Sakonnet, leaving those last trailing remnant clouds cut out against an absolute pale blue sky.

At Starcase Cinemas, all the letters are gone — all that's sticking to the marquee is "Do tor 3" in Starcase 1.

Hard to believe it, but there are already signs of life: The China Star II restaurant is open.

8:41 This is feeling as close to the experience of something like a major quake as I hope I ever get. Walking around the halls of an American hotel with a flashlight. Waiting in line for a pay phone. All the accoutrements much of the world shrugs off as occasional irritants, brought painfully home.

Still no sign of light. But I think it's time to explore the effect of lack of illumination on Newport. Eerie to stand in a Howard Johnson's parking lot and see only the shadows of trees, lit only by a half moon and these stars, amazing to see this many stars this deep inside what we usually call civilization.

Driving down Broadway. It's patently weird — and, yes, dangerous — driving around these roads designed for streetlights, guided only by a half-moon and passing cars, with the unknown threat of branches and wet leaves across your path. There are a lot of cars, a whole stream, headed north, no doubt from Newport bridge; traffic that was held up by the closure, or people coming back to the the houses they fled last night or this morning. Not so much traffic headed down into Newport.

The Newport Hospital is the only building with lights...the big illuminated sign out front is like a beacon, visible way up Broadway, something that would otherwise fade into background.

And now, it appears that there are lights — yes, light already — down in Newport. The florescents are on at the Cumberland Farm but nobody's home when I stop to check. One guy, looking in the door mutters, "It's a horrible tease."

A line of people, 20 or so, waiting to get into the Store24, which does appear to be open.

It looks almost normal at the top of Thames street, a few leaves blown down, but otherwise it could be mistaken for an average weeknight. Yes, the Newberry's is completely boarded up, but every parking spot in front of the Brick Market is still occupied. Absolutely amazing. But that first block is it for the lights; once you're into the second block where the Burger King is, it's back to darkness and silence. And that's where the National Guard trucks are, with someone at the Y-junction with America's Cup, directing traffic.

Traffic lights, actual blinking traffic lights out here in front of Sunset Field. Down here, it seems like the hurricane was weeks ago. Seeing these traffic lights blinking yellow seems like a bizarre, sacrilegious desecration of the darkness. Plenty of lights on down here by the Bridge, which probably says something about the priorities of Newport Electric...

Now it's full dark, running up East Main road toward the Newport Creamery, pitch black and totally scary, the kind of dark one only associates with country roads, the only visible artifacts are street signs and reflectors popping out every now and then. Just passed the Newport Creamery and didn't even see it, just a shape hulking back in the glint of oncoming headlights. Several Middletown police cruisers are pulled up at Two Mile corner by the Douglas Drug, just sort of confabbing, keeping an eye on Things. It is incredibly dark here. There's now power on in the Acme, almost certainly a generator. They haven't progressed much with clearing East Main; it's still a mess north of the nurseries.

This is the stretch of East Main I couldn't get to before, and it is truly desolate. There are trees down blocking the right hand lanes both north and south bound once you get past Silvania road. Much worse than the West Main; there are whole sections here where the trees haven't been moved. There's one down across the entire southbound side by Trinity Cemetary. Just past Sandy Point, where I'm coming up on the other end of of the blockage I ran into heading south earlier, and there are whole trees down here on both sides of the street. That underlighting of powerlines that one only associates with small rural roads takes on a whole new look and feel when you see car headlights coming up from underneath a curve on the East Main Road. Up ahead, a truck is running slalom, threading among trees. Driving the narrowing lane is spooky, an entire tree down across three lanes, branches reaching out to scrape both sides of the car.

Looks like that's all she wrote, because here the road dead ends into trees. The entire road just stops being a road and it's just trees taking down power lines right across, just complete non-roadness. There's a cop waving motorists back.

"Hi"
"Can't get through this way, sir."
"Okay, let me turn around..."

By now, I know the drill. Cut over to West Main. But still, if you hadn't driven this in daylight to give you some vague idea of what was going on, the nature of these shadowy shapes that keep looming up at you, this would be an extremely scary drive. Just passed the Stop&Shop and didn't even see it. The Middletown police are out giving speeding tiickts, and a good idea, too.

Here and there, off to the sides, there is the glint of lights, the thrum of generators.

9:44 Island Park, again Looks like Lake Flo has pretty much drained and evaporated, and Park Ave is drivable. Well, mostly; there's some roadbed buckling in spots. Coming up on Flo's, there is just an enormous tideline of stuff all across the road, glinting tartar sauce packets, chunks of wood, pilings, seaweed, and the most unbelievable, rich, cheesy smell.

There is picturesque moonlighht on the Sakonnet, and the water is absolutely still. It's hard to believe what it looked like a few hours ago. Time to head back to the HoJo and crash.

Without any streetlights, you've just sort of got to know where to turn onto Middle, then Hedly. You'd better have the pattern in the mind, because it just doesn't exist in your visual field. It's a rush, driving on the deserted West Main Road, guided by occasional stabs of moonlight and adrenaline, guessing where the trees lurk, surfing the breakers of the blackout, motorheading into darkness overdriving the headlights by five, ten, twenty miles an hour...

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