Forrest Morrison, 71, lives across the street from the water in a two-story brick home in the shrimping village of McClellanville, the town where he was born and raised. On the September night in 1989 when Hugo came ashore, he and his wife, Pam, and their two teenage children had evacuated to a motel 40 miles away in Moncks Corner. (“It was scary even there.”)
“We got back at 3:30 or 4 the next afternoon. What we saw were two large, 68-foot shrimp trawlers in the driveway. They were stopped by a big live oak tree from coming into the house.
“Upstairs, we had put plywood on the front windows, and it looked like you’d gone to dinner and come back. No damage. Downstairs we had 6 feet of salt water (at the height of the storm). There was about 6 inches of pluff mud, shrimp and crabs coating the whole floor.
