Sue woke up around 4 AM on Friday, September 27th, to a symphony of storm sounds. The howling wind, the ominous thumps and cracks of trees succumbing to the gale, and the relentless torrential rain, all signaled that Hurricane Helene was in full force. As dawn broke, we ventured out to witness Helene’s power firsthand. Winds raged at 70 mph, punctuated by even stronger gusts, and horizontal rain lashed against everything, creating a truly frightening spectacle. Having weathered Hurricane Fran in Raleigh back in 1996, which struck at night, this was our first daylight encounter with such a ferocious storm. Shaw’s Creek, usually a gentle waterway at the end of our street that feeds into the French Broad River, had swollen dramatically, reaching our neighbor’s fence and churning with large, menacing waves. The air was thick with the distinct scent of pine, a telltale sign of fallen trees nearby.
By 10 AM, the storm had passed, and the sun began to tentatively peek through the clouds. We had lost power in the early hours of the morning, but as we surveyed our surroundings, a wave of gratitude washed over us. We were incredibly lucky. Around a dozen trees had fallen around our property, but miraculously, they all fell outwards, into neighboring yards, sparing our home. We were fortunate to have a gas stove and a gas hot water heater, ensuring we could still cook and have hot water despite the power outage. Phone service was spotty and slow, but we managed to send texts, make calls, and with considerable patience, access a few websites to get news updates. We later learned that our small area of Laurel Park had received over 20 inches of rain between Wednesday and Friday. This explained the marsh-like state of our backyard and the transformation of our driveway into a small river. Yet, against all odds, our home remained unscathed, with no water damage inside and no exterior damage.
Once it was safe to venture out, we walked down our short street and witnessed the raw power of the storm. Giant trees were snapped in half, twisted from their roots, or completely uprooted, leaving gaping holes in the landscape. Talking to our neighbors, we learned that on the next street over, a family had a much more harrowing experience. Half a dozen trees had crashed onto their house, puncturing the roof in multiple places. Thankfully, the family had managed to escape safely and had spent the darkest hours of the early morning, in the thick of the storm, sheltering in their truck. The stories and sights painted a vivid picture of where Hurricane Helene had unleashed its fury and the varying degrees of impact it had on our community.
