Driving Into the Storm: A Hurricane Story

Driving into the storm wasn’t the smartest decision we’ve ever made—but it was a necessary one.

On Friday, September 27^th, my husband and I set off early from my daughter’s home in Indianapolis to head south. We’d been up from Tennessee running my mother to doctor’s appointments and visiting with family for the week. When I gave Anna a last-minute hug, I was reluctant to leave.

“You know I’d rather be staying here,” I said. “I love you.”

And that statement was truthful. I wasn’t excited about driving into the storm—toward Hurricane Helene instead of staying away from it. But Tim’s supervisor had called him twice saying his team at the City of Asheville Fleet Management needed his help. They’d dealt with the aftermath of hurricanes coming up into the mountains from the Gulf before and knew every person was important in the cleanup process.

“Bring a chainsaw, if you can,” he said.

The weather in Indianapolis when we left before dawn was drizzling rain. Soon it was pouring, with gusts of wind coming in waves as the bands of Helene moved north. Our drive was slower than usual due to the wet roads but steady. By the time we crossed the Cumberland mountains and reached the Tennessee valley, the skies were clearing.

“Good,” I said to my husband. “Maybe the worst of it is over.”

Oh, was I wrong.

Mountains hold dangers not found in the flat lands of the Midwest. Yes, we have flooding but the sheer power of water flowing down from higher elevations defies imagination.

Sometimes the worst part of a storm happens after the dark clouds have passed and you’re lulled into a false sense of calm.

Estimates vary concerning the deluge of rainfall Hurricane Helene dumped on the Appalachians surrounding Asheville NC. Some think that up to 35 inches or more fell north of the city at the headwaters of the Nolichucky River which flows near our home in East Tennessee. Its name comes from an old Native American word. The Cherokee called it “Dangerous Waters.” Surely, they had experienced the magnitude of its power in the ancient past and warned others of its perils.

Our usual route back home from Indiana takes us through Greenville TN then winds along the Nolichucky up to Erwin TN. There are class III and IV rapids on the river but this area is generally calm. As we approached our exit to Greenville, there was a backup of traffic and our GPS was telling us to take the longer way through Johnson City instead.

No problem. It’s just a few more miles home and staying on the highway is easier. But when we reached Erwin, our progress suddenly halted. Semis lined up along I-26 and the state police were diverting traffic.

“The bridge is out,” a harried officer shouted. “You can’t go any farther.”

We pulled into the Food City parking lot then went inside to use their restroom and decide what to do next. What we learned while there sent chills up my spine. Flash flooding from the Nolichucky had 50 people trapped on the roof of the local hospital with helicopters coming to rescue them.  The Chestoa bridge upstream was already gone and first responders were evacuating the small town of Embreeville as the water rushed toward them—along the route we chose not to take that day. The Nolichucky raged down the mountains destroying their bridge and many others in its path.

And the Nolichucky was only one of the rivers swollen by the excessive rainfall from Helene. Later we discovered that the French Broad took out businesses and homes along its banks in Asheville and destroyed the towns of Marshall and Hot Springs. The Swannanoa river flooded the town by the same name and Black Mountain. Beautiful, small towns like Chimney Rock are simply gone. As we sat in the Food City under blue skies, we had no idea the magnitude of the devastation. How were we to reach home and what would we find when we finally made it?

My husband called his supervisor to tell him we couldn’t get past Erwin and would likely be staying in Johnson City for now. “Stay safe” he said. We tried to call our neighbors who were caring for our cats, dog, and chickens to let them know where we were. But cell service was out and we had to leave voice mail and test messages, not knowing if they would ever get them.

Even though we had a comfortable room in a hotel that night, I didn’t sleep well. Not knowing the status of the people and animals you care about weighs on your mind. It wasn’t until the following afternoon we finally heard from our neighbor. The flooding hadn’t damaged our area and a road through was now open to go home.

The circuitous route taking us to the old Asheville Highway and our little town of Flag Pond TN lead us past some of the scourge left by the Nolichucky. Uprooted trees scattered along I-26 near the buckled bridge. The river had carved a deep gorge taking out two smaller roads with the hospital, a church, and a gas station still surrounded by water. Rushing water swept away houses in its path.

Structures can be rebuilt but those who survive this storm would certainly never be the same.

We were the blessed ones. Our home and our church still stand. All our neighbors and our animals are alive and safe. Our power was out for five days so we lived on a generator with only a little inconvenience and my husband is back at work helping to begin the slow process of cleanup and rebuilding. Aide is pouring in the region and people are helping each other. Our church is working with the local fire station and has opened up its food pantry and clothes closet daily at the Ebbs Chapel Community Center for those in need.

Please pray for our recovery. Even though all the people I know are safe, there are those still missing. Loved ones are searching for them desperately. The strain on the mental health of those first responders and rescuers is palpable.

Driving into the storm is never easy and living through its aftermath has far reaching effects.  But doing our part to ease the pain of others, helps heal our own. A kind word, a gentle touch of understanding, the offer of a bottle of clean water goes a long way in the process of recovery. And it will be a long recovery. This is just the beginning.

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