Steve Riley was a reporter and editor in Mississippi, North Carolina and Texas for more than 40 years. He retired as executive editor of the Houston Chronicle in 2021.
BLACK MOUNTAIN, N.C. - It rained on Tuesday. It rained on Wednesday. The meteorologists told us these soakings were unrelated to Hurricane Helene, which was still lurking in the Gulf of Mexico. Maybe so, but eight inches or so fell during that relative calm before the storm.
You think you’re ready for the big one. You watch and read, but you’ve been through hurricanes and tropical storms before: It can’t be as bad as the forecasts say.
It can.
“I don’t think you can overstate how catastrophic and devastating this has been over such a large area,” said Will Ray, director of emergency management for North Carolina.
Somewhere in the middle of this sprawling storm is our idyllic little town, nestled at 2,300 feet above sea level, 15 miles east of Asheville, in a valley facing the parts of the Blue Ridge Mountains that boast the tallest peaks in the eastern United States. Black Mountain has been on a bit of a popularity spurt; it seems that everyone who wanted a mountain house came looking during the pandemic, and ours was one of the towns that got discovered. Still, we count roughly 8,000 year-round residents.
We came for the views; the crisp, clean air; the hiking; the breweries; even the bears. Life slows down, and spirits perk up.
But like so many other small mountain towns, ours sits near streams and rivers, as well as reservoirs that catch the rainfall as it flows down from the areas around Mount Mitchell. So they are all vulnerable to the increasingly dense storms that come with our warming climate. Every few years, it seems, a hurricane turns in this direction after landfall, bringing the threat of flooding, mudslides and crashing trees, hundreds of miles from the closest shoreline.
But never like this.
After those preliminary midweek disturbances, the real show started Thursday evening. Waterlogged tree roots gave way to terrifying tropical gusts. Hundreds of towering poplars, chestnut oaks and maples were toppled - some landing on houses, many landing on power lines. I flashed back to Hurricane Fran in 1996, when Raleigh, the “City of Oaks,” lost so many of them.
Helene’s rains swelled the rivers and streams, threatening those living nearby, and taking some; by Monday morning, 35 people were confirmed dead in Buncombe County - a total that is expected to rise as search and rescue operations continue.
Our treasured wildlife has also been under assault. One neighbor reported seeing the force of the storm blow apart two trees, sending a family of sheltering black bears scampering.
The storm left quickly, by Friday morning. But so did the power, the internet and cell service. And then the water system. Isolated on our street, halfway up Allen Mountain, our neighbors got to work. The only reason we can drive off the mountain now is because residents with chain saws cleared a dozen or so fallen trees. We’ve seen no utility repair trucks, though Duke Energy says it expects power will be restored “to the majority of customers” by the end of this week.
But now, the questions: What to do? Will we starve or die of dehydration if we stay? Will we encounter closed or jammed highways if we go? Can we find fuel?
In the aftermath, dazed-looking residents and visitors wandered around downtown on Sunday, many finding food and water at Black Mountain Presbyterian Church. In the parking lot of the town’s visitors center, across the street from the bustling police and fire complex, they sought answers.
The town’s response was clear: “LEAVE IF YOU CAN,” read the handwritten message on a flip chart. Residents heard the same plea in a recorded phone message.
Some messages were mixed, however. At an afternoon news conference, Gov. Roy Cooper (D) and state Transportation Secretary Joey Hopkins said we should stay home.
“Travel in western North Carolina remains limited and dangerous,” Cooper said. “Consider all roads in western North Carolina to be closed until further notice,” added Hopkins.
Downtown, I sought clarification. Lisa Jennings’s employer is the U.S. Forest Service, but on Sunday she was serving as a public information officer for the town; with no water or power, she said, people should at least be making plans about where they could go.
“It is critical that people are prepared for the long haul,” Jennings said. “As this goes on, it’s not going to get easier for residents. So we’re recommending if people have a safe place to go where they’re comfortable, and they can get there safely, that they make those plans now.”
Ray, the emergency management director, insisted that the messages weren’t clashing. Before the storm, state and local officials had warned people about what was coming, he said. Now, if you’re in trouble, seek higher ground. Others should stay put, he said, unless they have “a safe and secure route out of your county.”
Meanwhile, we await word about friends and those we have lost.
And we wait for water, food, power and restoration of the life we chose here. No one can assure us of when any of that will return.
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