Experiences With Hurricane Helene 09-27-2024
September 27, 2024, is a date indelibly etched into my memory. Hurricane Helene's arrival in North Carolina brought devastation, and I was there in North Myrtle Beach as it made landfall on the east coast.
That day marked the end of my beach vacation. As I anxiously awaited the hurricane's impact, I hoped it wouldn't extend too long or cause irreparable damage that might hinder my journey back home. Rising early, I ventured out to the deck to experience the ocean's tumultuous splashing and the howling wind. To my surprise, I witnessed an awe-inspiring sunrise with hues of purples and reds painting the sky in an eerie yet mesmerizing spectacle. It reminded me of the old saying, "Red sky at night, sailors' delight; red sky in the morning, sailors take warning." Indeed, it was a day for sailors to heed the warning.
As I sat on the balcony, I watched hotel employees scurrying along the beach, dismantling umbrellas and securing chairs before the impending storm. As the morning progressed, the ocean grew increasingly rough, and the winds intensified. By 8 a.m., storm clouds loomed ominously, hurtling towards us at a daunting speed. Within the next half hour, the outer bands of rain engulfed the area. My sister and I observed two men, seemingly oblivious to the approaching storm, setting up chairs at the water's edge. We thought they were either brave or simply foolish, yet they remained through the heavy rain, defying our expectations.
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As the full force of Helene descended upon us, we were engulfed by the torrential rain and howling winds. Debris littered the streets, and we even witnessed a chair being hurled off a balcony into the pool below. By 10 a.m., the ocean horizon vanished, replaced by an impenetrable wall of rain. This relentless downpour lasted an hour before it began to ease. By 11 a.m., a few brave souls ventured onto the beach, undeterred by the lingering drizzle. I, however, opted to wait until the storm had completely passed.
Driving home from North Myrtle Beach, I encountered only minor damage—downed trees, scattered trash cans, and debris strewn about. Remarkably, there was no significant destruction.
Fast forward three months to December 14, 2024. My husband and I finally returned to the mountains, visiting Asheville and the Biltmore Estate at Christmas. Initially planned for early October, our trip was delayed due to the hurricane's aftermath.
During our drive up I-40, we noticed minimal damage until reaching Black Mountain, where the storm's impact became more evident. Cleanup efforts were underway, yet signs of devastation remained. We lunched at La Rumba, a restaurant near Wood Ave., across from a closed bridge over the Swannanoa River, buried under debris and mangled storage containers. This area, 7 miles from the River Arts District and 3 miles from the Biltmore entrance, bore clear marks of Helene's fury.
At La Rumba, we spoke with our waitress about her ordeal. She, like many others, lost her home and belongings, struggling to rebuild her life with her young child. Fortuitously, the restaurant's owner provided her a rental property, offering stability amid chaos. Her resilient attitude despite such adversity was truly inspiring.
Driving from La Rumba to the Biltmore, the landscape revealed varying degrees of storm damage. Initial neighborhoods showed minor debris, but closer to the Biltmore, devastation became apparent. Moe's restaurant was a shell of its former self, and Village shops were cordoned off, with little evidence of cleanup. McDonald's and the Bohemian were both severely impacted, with the latter completely boarded up. The once bustling Starbucks near the Biltmore entrance had vanished without a trace. The Gate House gift shop and entrance road arches bore visible waterlines, attesting to the flood's height.
The Biltmore, flanked by the Swannanoa and French Broad Rivers, showcased extensive cleanup efforts, yet downed trees and thinned bamboo lined the road. A damaged cottage stood as a testament to Helene's wrath, its roof partially caved in and missing in places.
The Biltmore, flanked by the Swannanoa and French Broad Rivers, showcased extensive cleanup efforts, yet downed trees and thinned bamboo lined the road. A damaged cottage stood as a testament to Helene's wrath, its roof partially caved in and missing in places.
Returning home, I felt profoundly grateful to have been spared the worst of the hurricane's impact. While I shared just one story, many others echoed similar or even more harrowing experiences. My photos capture both the beach during the hurricane and the aftermath in Asheville, offering a glimpse into the storm's devastating beauty. I invite you to view them below and on my social media. For those wishing to help, numerous organizations are available for donations—please ensure to verify their credibility before contributing.
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