The Lingering Effects of Hurricane Helene
Hurricane Helene Was a Month and a Half Ago, But Western North Carolina is Still Reeling From the Fallout
It’s been a month and a half since Hurricane Helene swept in and decimated Western North Carolina, including where I live in Asheville. In many ways, things here are starting to return to normal.
Back to “Normal”
Last week, we finally got potable water. For those like me who may not have paid attention to what “potable” means until a month and a half ago, when it became something we thought about constantly, it just means drinkable. We now don’t have to boil water before drinking or using it to cook, which means that all businesses can be fully functional.
Getting in and out of Asheville is no longer an adventure (the weekend after Helene, my drive from PA to Asheville, which usually takes 10 hours, took 14). While 40 West is still out for the count, most of the main roadways have been restored.
My gym is open again, the Wi-Fi is no longer touch-and-go, and when I was out for Halloween a couple of weeks ago, Asheville felt like a typical pre-Helene Halloween.
So Much Still Gone
But…in many ways, the area still faces a real uphill battle, and it’s hard not to run into the scars Helene left behind. Much of the River Arts District still looks like a wasteland, and many of the businesses I used to frequent there—Wildflowers Vintage always had such cool stuff (I bought a Ralph Lauren moose flannel from them this past LDW, which is quickly becoming a go-to), I was obsessed with Foundation Studios, Second Gear had become one of the only places I went for outdoor stuff, and then of course, my beloved Zillicoah for bluegrass Sundays—are gone (forever or just for now is to be determined). There are small towns—like Marshall and Hot Springs— outside Asheville that I used to frequent that are essentially not open to the public. And in some cases, the topography just doesn’t exactly look like it used to. My friend Dani and I recently drove into Chimney Rock after brunch at our friends’ restaurant and were floored to find that the Rocky Broad River has somewhat rerouted itself.
This is a picture of the Geneva Hotel and Tiki Bar, where Dani, other friends, and I would come for an annual summer weekend. The hotel used to be riverside, but it wasn’t waterfront property. A parking lot, pool, and said tiki bar sat where the river now flows.
One of the Underreported Side Effects of Hurricane Helene is the Loss of Jobs
The Asheville Citizen Times recently reported that, according to a Nov. 19 news release from the N.C. Department of Commerce, more than 8,200 jobs were lost in the Asheville Metropolitan Statistical Area in October. The same article reported that according to the Buncombe County Tourism Development Authority, the tourism area, which so many people rely on for work (and pay), is currently down almost 70%, which is massive considering how vital the fall and holiday tourism booms typically are for this area.
I think that’s one of the most upsetting aspects of all of this—in truly a sea of upsetting aspects—how the economic toll of the post-flood era will affect Western North Carolina. The businesses damaged and destroyed not only have an uphill battle for survival now that the influx of media attention and donations is starting to wane, but those who have survived might not be able to continue surviving without the tourism dollars flowing in. It feels like the pandemic all over again in some ways; unprecedented times becoming precedented and “new normal” again becoming the buzzword du jour.
Right now, many of these small businesses are navigating complicated webs of bureaucratic red tape and insurance policy fine print. They are still determining their future.
The Destruction of New Origin Brewing
New Origin Brewing was in Biltmore Village, across the street from the Swannanoa River. They’d prepped their brewery for some flooding, expecting a 19-foot crest. The river crested at 27 feet, but it wasn’t the water that did New Origin in: it was a train car picked up by the flood that crashed into the brewery, leaving barely even a foundation.
I interviewed Brian Fetting, one of the two owners of New Origin, for a piece I did for Fast Company titled "Hurricane Helene occurred more than a month ago, but workers are still impacted.” While it didn’t make it into the final piece—I had 800 words to tell Fetting and another small business owner’s story—was how he told me that despite so many people reaching out with support and a GoFundMe that was picking up steam, they still aren’t sure whether or not they’ll be able to rebuild the brewery on that land they own across the street from the Swannanoa River. The city hasn’t yet reevaluated whether or not large swaths of Biltmore Village (and River Arts) will be considered a flood plain. If it does get that designation, Fetting and his partner would have to build their brewery on stilts, which is expensive and not super conducive to how a brewery operates. So, on top of all the other moving parts they’re contending with, that designation keeps them in limbo.
The Story of Hot Springs’s Spring Creek Hotel
David Wagner, the owner of the Spring Creek Hotel up in Hot Springs, told me a similar story. He’s not sure whether or not his property will be designated a flood plain (and if it is, it’ll have ramifications for the entire town of Hot Springs, whose entire small but mightly business district sits along both the Spring Creek and French Broad River) and still isn’t 100% what insurance will or won’t cover. He also said that, generally, this is an evolving situation, and he wasn’t sure exactly what he’d need in the future, which is why something like a GoFundMe, where business owners get cash directly, is the best way to help out.
A Shattered American Dream
Interviewing Wagner and Fetting for the Fast Company piece was heartbreaking. These were two men who had—pre-Helene, at least—achieved the somewhat mythological, somewhat proverbial, American Dream in that both had toiled for the man—i.e., Corporate America—well into their 30s before embarking on being the owners of small businesses that were more passion than profit fooled (not that either of these men are eschewing profit, just that it was evident how much heart and soul both put into these professional endeavors). Then, this natural disaster destroyed this hard work, and there was no amount of work they could do to stop it. Fetting was stuck at his Arden home during the storm, reliant on updates from the news or people he knew near Biltmore Village, while Wagner watched the waters inundate his hotel from just across a bridge.
How You Can Help
If you find yourself here, please consider checking out the Fast Company piece, which I’ve linked to Fetting and Wagner’s GoFundMes. You can also access them here and here.
