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CARRIE JOHNSON and MOLLY MOORHEADPensacola Beach residents get their first looks at damage caused by Ivan.
PENSACOLA BEACH - Curt Bonner and his wife trudged down a hard-packed sand road Wednesday, past hotels without siding and timeshare condominiums without roofs.
The Bonners and other residents returned to Pensacola Beach for the first time since Hurricane Ivan, and Fort Pickens Road was lined with 10-foot sand dunes made by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers bulldozers. A car antenna and other debris poked from the mounds.
"I think I can see the house now," said Bonner, 69, pointing toward a blue roof. "Doesn't look too good from here."
A neighbor's home had blown away. Another was missing a front porch. A line of sand just beneath the Bonners' doorknob indicated how high the water had risen.
Bonner used a battery-powered screwdriver to remove the plywood from the front door. His wife, Quimby, turned away.
"I really don't know if I can stand this," she said. "I don't want to look."
It has been a week since Hurricane Ivan roared through the Florida Panhandle. In Escambia County, where 11 of 19 Ivan-related deaths occurred, there are signs of normalcy. The mall reopened Wednesday, and a night curfew was lifted.
But more than half of Escambia's utility customers - 80,000 - still do not have power. Hundreds remain in shelters, and traffic jams still last for hours because of detours around main roads that were damaged. State and county officials wonder where they will get the money to rebuild roads and other public facilities.
Gov. Jeb Bush met with federal officials Wednesday in Washington to lobby for more aid. Bush estimated Hurricanes Charley, Frances and Ivan could cost the state $1-billion even with federal help. Florida Sens. Bob Graham and Bill Nelson asked President Bush to lower the state and local matching money requirement from 25 percent of the total cost to 10 percent.
But for about 2,700 people who live year-round on Pensacola Beach, it was another day of misery as they saw for the first time what became of their homes.
Residents were not allowed to drive on the island, and many hiked for a mile or more to see their homes. They could take away only what they could carry.
For Bob Radcliffe, 44, there was nothing left to retrieve. His home looked like a movie set, with only the facade still standing. Ivan's 25-foot waves had crashed through his patio, smashed into his dining room and washed away most of the house.
Homes owned by his mother and three siblings in the Pensacola area also were destroyed.
"We're 0 for 5," said Radcliffe, a builder and fisherman. "But we'll start again. Somehow or another, we'll find a way."
A sailboat, the Chardonnay, sat in the middle of what used to be a tennis court. A baby carriage tangled in Christmas lights washed into the road. Becky Shearer, 42, found a silver urn in her yard.
"I wonder who this belongs to," she said.
While damage was extensive on Pensacola Beach, the area was not as devastated as nearby Perdido Key or Grande Lagoon. Some hotels and residences on the beach looked virtually untouched.
Ken Arnold, who moved to Pensacola Beach from Oklahoma six months ago with his wife, was happy when he saw his house from afar.
"Okay, it's still standing!" he said. "We got a house. Yeah!"
He called his wife, Julie, from his cell phone. She had evacuated to Tulsa with their three cats and was waiting anxiously for updates. A conversation with one of his six kids choked him up again.
"Call mom," Arnold told his child. "Her prayers paid off."
Pensacola is famous for its powdery white beaches. It is the only place in Florida where the size and color of the sand is regulated by the state Department of Environmental Protection, Escambia County Manager George Touart said.
The beach recently underwent a $20-million renourishment program. But Ivan blew most of the sand into the middle of the island.
"You can see the gulf real well right now," Touart said. "That beach is pretty flat."
When the cleanup from the storm begins, the sand will be sifted for debris and returned to the beach, he said.
Federal Emergency Management Agency officials are still going door to door to determine which homes can be rebuilt and which must be destroyed. Homes that are more than 50 percent damaged must be torn down.
When Curt Bonner opened his front door, the first thing he noticed was the stench. The carpet was soaked and muddy, and the wall was splattered with sand. The entire first floor was wet.
"Well, it could be worse," Bonner called to his wife.
"I'm not coming in," Mrs. Bonner answered. "I can't bear to see it like this."
The expensive clock she gave her husband for his birthday was still in the oven, where they had hidden it before leaving. But the townhome complex was a shambles, a skeleton of exposed beams and insulation. Under the FEMA regulations, the entire structure probably will be demolished.
Bonner stripped the carpet off the floors and set it outside to dry. Mrs. Bonner finally willed herself inside and grabbed a few belongings: a sketch of New Orleans, a plastic floral arrangement and a Christmas cactus.
Sheriff's deputies required all residents to leave the island by 3 p.m. to prevent looting. The Bonners, who have lived on the beach since 1957, don't know when they will be back.
"I don't know if we would try again," said Mrs. Bonner. "At this point in our lives, it just may be too stressful to live here."