Hurricane Helene -- It was worse than we imagined, and I am still full of awe

Rebecca Chaplin is the Associate State Director of AARP North Carolina who represents the Mountain Region.

AARP Foundation has a special Hurricane Helene tax deductible fund to help in the recovery efforts.

Hurricane Helene transformed many lives, including mine. I work with AARP NC and want to share my story. I also want to acknowledge those who are suffering much more and those who have perished. The landscape of our community has changed.

From our purple house on the hill, I watched Dani, our friend in the tiny house below, struggle to get his jeep up the hill as the field flooded. I was sick with worry, hoping he and his pups would make it safely.

My husband Dayton and I were building the “creek house” for Dani, who had PTSD from serving in Iraq. We thought the 3 foot piers would protect it from flooding, but we were wrong. Dani was already living in the half-finished house, with our neighbor helping with insulation and walls.

Dani made it to our house, shaking but safe. It was Friday, September 27, 7 AM, and Hurricane Helene was hitting Western North Carolina. We had lost power and water. As we texted final messages to family, our cell service cut out. Dayton, a nurse, was at the hospital.

In those last moments of service, I texted Dayton, “the plywood to finish the walls is floating away.” He asked about the tiny house. I replied, “Yup… nope. It’s lifted from its footers… turning on its side… floating down the field.”

The last text I received was from our neighbor: “Your bridge just washed away.” Our only way out was gone. Dani said, “everything I owned is in that house, it’s floating away.” I could only nod, thinking about the loan and labor that were now washing away.

The field looked like a raging river, with shipping containers and storage units floating by. A school bus was twisted and stuck on rocks and logs. I watched a geological shift that would have taken centuries. Rocks and trees piled up, creating two rivers separated by an island of debris.

When the storm died down, we assessed the damage. Our neighbors, Cathy and Steve, had a home by the creek. It was now a wreck, with doors and windows gone and water pouring out. Their house was no longer livable. Cathy was a ceramic artist in her late sixties. Her broken pottery now glittered in the sunlight, partially buried in the river sand.

It was a long day. I felt like I was moving through water. All nurses, including Dayton were required to stay at the hospital over the weekend. The next day, September 28, was my daughter Avery’s sixth birthday.

I’m glad I ran out during the calm before the storm to get her a pink cowgirl hat and horse figurine, because only one of her birthday packages had arrived. Still feeling shock and sick inside, I muscled through making confetti pancakes on our gas stove. I started to wonder how we would get enough water to drink and if the roads were open. She asked why there were no birthday decorations up. We had planned on a birthday party the next day in Asheville.

Avery’s best friend, Ember, lives across the road. We hiked down the dismantled driveway and I carried her on my back through thigh-high water so that she could have a little birthday cheer. She wore her new pink cowgirl hat. It was only later that I realized the danger involved in that crossing. There was now a four foot drop between the road and our driveway. Avery and Ember made the best of playing in the mud and jumping off the kid-sized cliff into our driveway. I looked down the dusty road and thought I was hallucinating when I saw a familiar face. Our friend David was walking down the road with his best friend John. He came to check on us, wish Avery a happy birthday, and hoped to take us back to Asheville so we could reunite with our family. He explained that they had to walk four miles to get to us, through creeks and fields. The roads were destroyed.

We also learned that a local construction company, Brock Construction was working hard to repair the roads within hours after the storm. Although everything appeared decimated, these skilled workers were on their equipment making improvement to provide access.

I told my friend David that I wasn’t ready to go. We would need to pack bags and figure out a plan for our dog, cat, and chickens. I also needed to talk with Dani. I asked David if he could come back the next day and he responded with “gas is kinda a thing,” noting that there was a serious gas shortage. But he did come back. It was only later that I realized that I was asking him to walk an additional eight miles through debris. On Sunday, September 29, he met us at the scheduled time to help us evacuate. I carried Avery through the creek for the final time. We started the trek to open roads. We saw one of Avery’s assistant teachers on the way. She cheered us on with a smile on her face even though her house looked like it had been submerged in water and the cars that were once on a driveway had moved into a bed of rubble.

After about a mile I noticed that the figure walking towards us was my husband, Dayton! He had come to find us too. We celebrated the reunion, and we all took turns carrying Avery and her many backpacks.

Brock Construction was organized as they efficiently repaired roads and bridges. It was as if they were born to do this. After a couple of miles someone from the company picked us up on an ATV and drove us the rest of the way. We noticed the hub of action was the old fire station. There were supplies, a communication board, food and water. Drinking water was becoming sparse. Water to wash dishes, flush toilets and clean our bodies was complicated, as our once clean creek was now laden with visible pollutants.

For some reason, we thought that Avery’s friends might still show up for her birthday party on Sunday afternoon at my in-laws house in west Asheville. We even carried her pinata and party favors over the creek and through the woods. No one came. Without the news and only the story we could see with our eyes, we had no idea the wide spread devastation that had impacted our community.

We stayed at our in-laws house for four days while Dani took care of our pets. There was not water, power, or cell service in Asheville either. It felt comforting to be together.

As soon as they could get gas, my husband’s parents were out of there. Five days without a shower was enough and it felt like that little house was getting smaller. They headed up to New Jersey to stay with their daughter, Erin’s, family. We stayed on for two weeks. The constant sound of helicopters and ambulances kept us all on edge.

Connecting with my AARP family, both staff and volunteers, felt important. It was also a challenge without cell service or an easy place to charge my devices. I often felt overwhelmed and cried many times a day. I made it to the West Asheville library, where, despite being closed, they had WiFi. People congregated on the curb to work or communicate with the outside world. From that curb, I drafted an email to share my experience. My teammates in Raleigh and across North Carolina supported our me and family, taking on my job duties and contacting our 80 volunteers to check on them and provide resources. I’m happy to report that each volunteer was accounted for; they may not all be okay, but they are safe.

In the weeks following the storm, I couldn’t act in service, focusing instead on self-preservation and caring for my child. A wise volunteer reminded me that it’s okay to be where you are after such an event. Once I could communicate, I started connecting with our volunteers. Some areas were largely unaffected, and Kim Dickens, one of our lead caregiving volunteers, invited my family to come anytime for showers and to charge our devices. We did.

We embraced the kindness of many people over the past several weeks. My colleagues sent reassuring messages daily and birthday gifts for Avery. The elders in my life provided reassurance and reflected resilience, affirming the value of age and wisdom.

AARP volunteers showed great resilience and care for their neighbors, sharing resources, providing food, water, and supplies, and organizing services for veterans. Even before the fallen tree was removed from her house, volunteer Grace Jurkowski showed up to help elders in our community.

Two specific elders, Buddy and Emma, not AARP volunteers but neighbors, helped us in an unimaginable way. They are “salt of the earth” folks from Barnardsville, a small rural community in Western North Carolina. They are always there, either sitting on their front porch or walking down the road. Barnardsville is an iconic rural community with no traffic light and only a few gas stations. It’s also a community with strong political views on both sides of the aisle.

We went home as frequently as possible, sometimes halted by closed roads. Each drive touched my heart deeply as I saw homes gutted, cars twisted and crushed, and trash everywhere. On one visit, Buddy pulled me aside and said, “What you all need is a ford.”

“A what?” I asked.

“A ford,” Buddy explained, is a crossing using large pieces of gravel to cover a creek or shallow river. He said that if I ordered “two loads of railroad ballast,” he could take out his track hoe and “build us a ford.” We did, and he did.

We can now walk and drive across the creek with feet that barely touch water. Apparently, a “ford” has been used throughout history, especially in the Appalachian Region. The wisdom and experience of age saved us. Buddy looked like he was in a meditation as he spread the gravel, selflessly sharing his time, talent and wisdom with his neighbors.

It took me weeks to overcome the feelings of loss and trauma and start to feel gratitude in my heart. There is so much for which to have gratitude. The opportunities to care for one another despite our differences may not have arisen in any other circumstance. Having power, water, and access to the people we love trumped our differences in Barnardsville. While I have always tried to see people beyond their political lens, it can be difficult during these partisan times. But this storm reminded me that community and love can bridge any divide.