Dear Helene, It’s High Time We Talk: Part 2.
Hello everyone, I am humbled to have you join Part 2 of my Hurricane Helene blog. Many of you had such kind words of support after I published Part 1, and it means the world to me!
In this continuation, I will describe our experience living in Asheville after the storm hit. A true sense of urgency filled our community, shortly followed by an emotional rollercoaster of worry, fear, and heartbreak. The sense of camaraderie among neighbors was palpable, and the showcase of humanity was indisputably the sliver of positivity brought on by Hurricane Helene to our beautiful blue mountains of Western North Carolina.
If you didn’t already come from Part 1, don’t miss reading about the crucial days leading up to the storm and the day we were hit by Helene before continuing on with Part 2 below.
SATURDAY: DAY 1 AFTER HELENE HIT
Much to our dismay but little to our surprise, we wake up to the power and cell service still out. It is still just me, my mom, and my daughter (Brooklyn) at the house. The novel sound of chainsaws and the roaring of generators fills the air of this early morning in our elevated neighborhood in East Asheville.
I throw on some shoes and make the 5-minute walk that leads up the road of our subdivision and back down to the main road. I want to assess the situation and degree of storm damage around us. I wonder if it is possible that we can drive out of here and find cell service? After losing the ability to communicate with loved ones yesterday morning, the anxiety of knowing people are worried about us is all-consuming. Seth is working at an ER 2 hours away, and I know his area was hit by Hurricane Helene too. He told me about treating (and pronouncing dead) storm victims during our last text exchange Friday morning. I can only imagine he is going crazy with worry about us.
On my way to check out the roads, I see other neighbors walking around aimlessly. Each passerby kindly checks in with one another. This is the first time I have met most of these folks, and it is quite nice to be reminded we are not completely alone in this predicament. When I catch my first sight of the main road that connects to our neighborhood drive, it looks like a tornado hit rather than a tropical storm. Power lines and mature trees are twisted and mangled along the entire stretch of road that I can see. I realize we can’t get out by car just yet. I walk to the back entrance of our neighborhood to assess the sketchier back roads with little hope. The sound of chainsaws is growing noticeably louder as I get closer. I am not shocked to see enormous trees down all over the back roads too. I notice several local men working hard to clear the roadways. Thank God for these heroes…
It is now around 10 a.m., and several neighbors have been working to cut away downed trees all morning. We decide to see if we can make it out by car to get cell service. We head towards the main road in my bulky Volvo SUV and see traffic trying to drive through the maze of debris for the first time. We carefully study the cars as they slowly weave through the twisted power lines one at a time. Now it is our turn. We make it through, turn a curve, and see another large tree blocking both lanes of the road ahead of us. Our hearts sink. We haven’t even made it half a mile from our house yet. As we look for a place to turn around, I notice a car ahead of us make an unfamiliar left turn and disappear right in front of the tree. We decide to get closer to investigate. We are elated to find a path has been cleverly cleared through the branches that leads into the local gas station’s parking lot as a detour around the tree. We have successfully navigated through the first big hurdle!
We drive a few more yards and see narrow paths that have been cut through more trees and shrubs fallen along the road, like a maze with very little clearance. Only one lane of traffic at a time is able to pass through. It is not guaranteed that the large branches and poles we must drive under are stable. Normally, we would not be driving in such risky situations with Brooklyn in the car, but we are desperate to get out. Knowing we can reach civilization means I can breathe a little easier. I don’t like to feel trapped or stuck in any situation, especially this one in which I don’t have adequate supplies to sustain our household.
As we drive a little further, we have to leave the roadway and cut across grassy areas and parking lots. The road is blocked by storm debris every few yards. Neighbors have clearly been working for many hours to make a pathway out for everyone. We see houses and parked cars that have been smashed by trees. Gigantic trees on the VA Hospital grounds were left completely uprooted by Helene, exposing their massive roots beside the road in an unnatural fashion. It is a sight that leaves me speechless.
We successfully reach the first red light to Tunnel Road, which is just about 1 mile from our home. I think Mom has been white-knuckle driving the entire way thus far as I record with my phone from the passenger’s seat. We are aghast at our surroundings. The landscape is transformed into an unrecognizable war zone of twisted metal and splintered wood. If I weren’t so shocked, I would break down in tears at the devastation surrounding us.
We continue driving through town on our way toward the closest interstate in the direction of TN, with the primary goal of finding some semblance of cell phone signal. We have to drive carefully as all the stoplights are out, power lines and trees are mangled across the roads, and there are road closures with no way to get real-time updates on cellular maps. There is obviously a mass power outage.
As we navigate our way through the Tunnel Road area (near the Asheville mall for anyone familiar with the area), we notice a bustling crowd of people holding their cell phones in the air in a Rooms To Go parking lot. Intrigued, we pull in to discover that the commotion is caused by an elusive area of cell service some people are able to tap into! Like us, many others are frantically trying to connect with loved ones. The atmosphere is a mix of emotions. Some people have lost their homes or sustained extensive damage from the hands of Helene. One woman chatting with me is very strong until the moment she finally hears her husband’s voice on the other end of a call as she informs him that their home was crushed by large trees, and she is staying with neighbors. This experience really highlights to me just how crucial connectivity has become in our lives and for our emotional well-being.
All three of us (me, Brooklyn, and my mom) make several attempts to send texts from our phones while we gather in this parking lot, commiserating with other Asheville locals. Calls are not connecting for us. I have T-Mobile as a carrier, while Brooklyn and Mom both have Verizon service. Their phones seem to be searching for a signal while mine constantly shows that dreaded “SOS.” A couple of lucky people near us get enough signal to load the internet and share what the news is saying. Now we can all understand the degree of severity around us. This is making me more nervous now that I see the worrisome headlines my friends and family are reading while we are unreachable.
We decide to leave, get on the interstate, and drive on towards Tennessee as we can’t be sure if any text messages went through. It will be a bonus if we find a gas station with working pumps to replace the gas we are using now to drive around. If we verify a route to safely leave Asheville, we will go get supplies from a nearby town.
Along I-26 towards Tennessee, we are absolutely shocked to see how high the French Broad River still is. There is one stretch in particular where the river is normally located several hundred feet from the interstate, but the water has only receded just shy of the grass along the side of the roadway we are driving on! Businesses are completely flooded. Homes and vehicles are floating by. This is unreal.
We take the exit into Weaverville, a town located approximately 15 miles from our home. We drive around the town aimlessly, filled with curiosity. Although the power and cell service are out here as well, it seems this neighboring town took less of a hit from Hurricane Helene. There are road closures and massive trees down, but a bustling amount of traffic is driving around here.
We have no luck getting cell service. We decide to turn around and head back to the Rooms To Go parking lot from earlier to try again at getting calls out. As we get close to the interstate, an unusual pattern of traffic catches my eye leading up a hill to the local shopping complex. We follow it and stumble upon a Publix that is open! Praise God! We can’t believe our eyes!
The entire shopping center’s parking lot is absolutely crammed with vehicles. A fire truck and police cars are parked in front of the store entrance, and officers are directing the chaos of traffic. We park our car and excitedly scurry into the grocery store. Having their headquarters based in Florida, we imagine Publix is naturally more prepared to do business during hurricanes. They have full power and the ability to run their debit card readers in this place. It is a beautiful sight amidst the completely blacked-out cities and towns surrounding it.
As a lifelong Black Friday shopping fanatic, I can tell you this experience is unmatched by any other in my life so far. We notice lines from the registers snaking around the side of the store, all the way along the back walls. Mom gets a place in line while Brooklyn and I take off with a buggy. The crowd inside tells a story of many devastating consequences of the recent storm. We see people with no shoes on who have fled other towns, abandoned vehicles, and/or walked here. Mom converses with a man who watched his neighbors wash away. He is a veteran trying to walk to the VA Hospital in Asheville for assistance. People are kind, but several of them are shaken.
We saw no other stores open on our route here from Asheville. Many shelves of this miraculously opened Publix are barren. There is no bottled water left at all. Without electricity, our options to make meals are limited anyway. It would be nice to find bread, but we are thankful we have any food at all to last several more days at our house. We fill our cart with non-perishable food that is almost all junk. This is a total panic buy with no real plan. After waiting in line for three and a half hours, we finally leave and head home with a trunk full of snacks.
We make it back to the Rooms To Go parking lot before taking our stash of non-perishable snacks home. Crowds of locals are still cycling in and out of the parking lot as it piques the interest of passersby. This time, our efforts finally pay off. We get the first text messages out via both Mom’s and Brooklyn’s cell phones. Then, I borrow Brooklyn’s phone and call Seth. I reach his voicemail and leave him a message to let him know we are okay. We also got a text through to Brooklyn’s dad, who I know has to be sick with worry by now.
I then call my coworker/friend to make sure everyone from work had made it home safely on Friday, which was my day off. We also need to get a plan for working on Monday since healthcare needs to show up regardless of a natural disaster. She answers my call immediately. Hearing her voice is indescribable. It is a wave of comfort. She lets me know that she and another coworker went into the pharmacy on Friday and struggled to get back home safely. She describes her harrowing night stranded away from her home and family due to flooded roads all around her. It is her story to tell, but she had a very high percent chance of being killed early this morning after she waded in chest-deep floodwaters to cross a road to finally get home. A semi-truck did not wait for her to finish crossing before barreling by and throwing large waves into her small, tired body. She is obviously very tough, but she had no chance if that truck had hit her. I think I am still in too much of a fight-or-flight mode to fully process her story in this moment, but it still makes me sick to my stomach imagining what she went through. As luck would have it, she is on her way to get supplies in Greenville, South Carolina. She is able to verify with firsthand information how Seth can make it home whenever I get in touch with him. I am so thankful but also distracted by her frightening ordeal. Stories just like hers and the ones we heard at Publix will inevitably add up to a community forever affected by living through Hurricane Helene.
Shortly after hanging up with my coworker, Seth calls me back. The amount of relief from both ends of this phone call can’t be put into words. It has been more than 24 hours since we have been able to hear each other’s voices. He has been very worried and working to get his shifts covered in order to get back home to us. He is just preparing to leave the hospital with coverage in place by his colleagues. He plans to stop by Home Depot and Lowe’s to look for a generator and other necessities. He is relieved to hear that I just received a reliable, real-time road update. He hasn’t had any luck verifying how to make it home all day, with cellular maps not being useful right now.
Before hanging up, I give Seth a list of people to contact for me to let them know we are safe. I know some of my closest friends and family members are worried I am dead at this point of no contact. It is unlike me to go without responding to texts or being on my social media. Knowing so much worry because of our whereabouts will now finally be alleviated allows me to breathe easier than I have since Hurricane Helene first hit our area…
PART 3
Although my family and I have been fortunate to survive the storm with no damage to our home, we have yet to face all of the struggles that are to come as a result of Hurricane Helene. In the next part, we quickly learn how simple day-to-day tasks like brushing our teeth become daunting challenges that test our mental tenacity and ingenuity. Things we don’t think twice about in terms of how we are going to accomplish them require creativity, planning, and daily “hurricane chores,” as I like to call them. From fetching buckets of water each day from the creek to hauling dishes in plastic bins to wash in another state, our experience has altered the fabric of our daily life. I hope it inspires you to be prepared for a natural disaster in your own community.
Our physical surroundings are dark and eerie, and the nights are long without any form of entertainment we are accustomed to, leaving us with only our thoughts and fears running on a loop. There became a palpable silence that amplified our feelings of isolation.
Fortunately, I have a welcomed distraction from the mundane post-Helene living to also discuss in Part 3. My workplace at the pharmacy opens its doors on Monday, and we could have never prepared for the chaos that ensued. We have no power, water, phones, or internet. Our dedication as healthcare professionals shone brightly through the dark clouds of uncertainty, reminding us of the strength we possess when faced with adversity. We also lose a little dignity having to pee in the grass outside of work on the first day open since the storm hit.
Please check back for Part 3 in a week or two. It is most therapeutic for me to keep sharing these moments that I naturally want to forget. I welcome you to leave any comments or questions you have in the forum below, and don’t forget to read Part 1 if you haven’t already!
-Amanda Kendler
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