Hurricane Nolo recedes from Hawaii as Mexico braces for major Hurricane Polo

By Sunday morning, Hurricane Nolo had begun its retreat from Hawaii, but the danger was far from over. The storm's center sat roughly 365 miles southwest of Honolulu, moving away from the Big Island at a measured 12 miles per hour, yet its maximum sustained winds had climbed to 115 miles per hour. The Hawaii county civil defense agency kept high wind warnings, wind advisories, and high surf alerts in place through the evening, a precaution born from hard experience. The islands were still raw from Hurricane Lala, which had torn approximately 100 homes from their foundations on the Big Island alone, and from Hurricane Lowell, which had struck earlier in the month. Now Nolo's outer bands threatened to deliver up to 20 inches of rain across parts of the Big Island, with heavy precipitation expected on the other islands as well.

The National Hurricane Center director Michael Brennan issued a stark warning: life-threatening flooding and mudslides were possible. "Don't venture out if you don't have to into the dangerous flooding environment, but also high winds. We can have trees and power lines down," he said. On Saturday afternoon, heavy rain had already forced partial closures of one of the main highways connecting Kailua-Kona on the west side to Hilo on the east. Near Naalehu, at the island's southern tip, National Guard members were seen guiding a resident through flooded streets as he attempted to evacuate his home. More than 120 guard members had been activated on the Big Island alone, part of roughly 400 deployed statewide after the governor declared an emergency. The storm was expected to strengthen further and curve toward the northwest by Sunday night, though forecasters said the center would remain well south and southwest of the islands, eventually approaching the Papahānaumokuākea Marine National Monument early in the week.

The Pacific hurricane season was running unusually hot. According to Bob Oravec, the National Weather Service's lead forecaster, storm activity was tracking above average during what is already the peak season—a pattern consistent with El Niño years, when the Pacific typically generates more tropical storms and hurricanes. Donald Trump had approved an emergency declaration, clearing the way for the Federal Emergency Management Agency to coordinate assistance and provide funding. Hawaiian Electric, the state's primary utility, had pulled crews away from restoration work in Kauai to redeploy them to Oahu, Maui, and the Big Island. Life on the islands had taken on a familiar rhythm of preparation. Shop owners boarded up businesses. Events were canceled. At Carlsmith Beach Park in Hilo, about a dozen people were in the water Saturday morning despite closed-beach signs. Andrea Gill, a regular swimmer, was squeezing in her routine before heading home to shelter with family. She acknowledged that rain was something islanders lived with, but wind from a hurricane was another matter entirely. "We're used to lots of rain. We're not used to wind. So it's always a blessing when we don't get the wind from the hurricane," she said.

While Hawaii braced for Nolo's lingering effects, Mexico was preparing for something more immediate. Hurricane Polo, a dangerous Category 3 storm with sustained winds of 125 miles per hour, was bearing down on the Baja California peninsula. On Sunday afternoon, the storm sat about 275 miles south-southwest of Cabo San Lucas, moving north-northwest at 12 miles per hour. Mexico's National Meteorological Service announced that Polo was expected to make landfall on the Baja peninsula on Monday. The government issued a hurricane warning along the mainland coast from Huatabampito to Guaymas. The Mexican navy had positioned personnel and humanitarian aid at the ports of Guaymas and Mazatlán and deployed three vessels capable of delivering supplies to coastal communities that might be cut off by the storm.

One such community was San Juanico, a small fishing town on Baja's Pacific coast. The town had only recently gained reliable electricity—a development of just a few years—and still suffered frequent outages. The prospect of washed-out roads blocking access to the nearest medical facility, located 80 minutes away in Ciudad Constitucion, weighed heavily on residents. Gloriely Robles Meza, a manager at a small hotel in San Juanico, spoke to the anxiety gripping the town. "Our people are concerned about this event," she said on Sunday. "We haven't faced such a worrying situation in many years." The Mexican Army had arrived to establish a shelter and prepare for emergencies. An electrical crew was also on hand, readying infrastructure for Polo's arrival. As if the Atlantic and Pacific were competing for attention, tropical storm Rachel had formed well off Mexico's southwest coast, about 300 miles south of Acapulco, with maximum sustained winds of 40 miles per hour. No coastal watches or warnings were yet in effect for Rachel, but the season's relentless pace was unmistakable.