Hurricane Helene Archive

Stories

The Hurricane Helene Archive brings together a collection of media contributed by community members, researchers, and historians. Use this page to explore firsthand accounts, images, and documents that offer insight into the storm, its impacts, and recovery efforts.

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  Mary Shrunk - from BRAHM Listening Day - Sept 20, 2025

  This oral history interview features Mary Schrum, recorded on September 20, 2025, at the Blowing Rock Art and History Museum. Schrum, originally from Hickory, has owned property in Watauga County since 1997 and considers the area her second home. She provides a deeply personal and spiritual account of her extensive volunteer work following Hurricane Helene. Schrum and her husband were living at their mountain home when the storm hit. Though their property was undamaged, they lost power for nine days and were initially cut off by a massive quarter-mile mountain slide on Sampson Road. Local neighbors with chainsaws, tractors, and excavators cleared a single-lane path, allowing residents to evacuate. Once power was restored around October 5th or 6th, Schrum felt compelled to volunteer with Samaritan's Purse. The interview includes a harrowing account of getting lost in the mountains without cell service or cash, ending up in Roan Mountain, Tennessee, on increasingly primitive roads before her phone was crushed by heavy equipment in Elk Park. This experience led to her practical advice about carrying maps and cash. Throughout, Schrum emphasizes her spiritual transformation, noting that despite the devastation, she never witnessed survivors blaming God—instead seeing faith strengthened. She reflects on gaining a new perspective on what truly matters in life and the importance of community connection.
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  Marty and Margie Osinski - Oral history from BRAHM listening day - Sept 20, 2025

  This oral history interview features Marty and Margie Osinski, recorded on September 20, 2025, at the Blowing Rock Art and History Museum. The couple, who lived in Miami for many years and survived numerous hurricanes including Hurricane Andrew, moved to Blowing Rock full-time five years ago, believing they had escaped hurricane threats. They describe experiencing four days of heavy rain before Hurricane Helene hit, which saturated the ground and compounded the storm's impact. Despite having a whole-house generator installed a year and a half earlier, they faced challenges with limited propane supply (only an 85-gallon tank) and had to ration power usage. Living on high ground on a gravel road, they avoided flooding but witnessed rivers forming on either side of their house and significant road damage. Marty worked to make their road passable so propane delivery trucks could reach them during their eight-day power outage. Rather than evacuating when a friend urged them to leave, the Osinskis chose to stay and help their community. They volunteered at The Summit in Boone, a pickleball facility whose owners (Crystal and Grant) shut down their business to create a major donation and distribution center. The couple spent several days organizing donations and delivering supplies to devastated areas including Spruce Pine, where they witnessed complete destruction—downed power lines for three-quarters of the drive, tree branches caught at the top of a 20-25 foot bridge indicating extreme water levels, and the same look of shock and displacement in people's faces that Margie remembered from Hurricane Andrew. They describe the remarkable organization of relief efforts, with donations pouring in from local communities, the National Guard, and beyond, covering every need from baby formula to pet food. Margie reflects on "survivor guilt" from both Andrew and Helene, emphasizing how staying to help prevented those feelings and reinforced her belief in community resilience. The Osinskis stress that people should never assume "it won't happen to me" and emphasize the importance of preparedness and remembering that human compassion transcends political divisions.
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  Becca Sykes and Louisa Currie - BRAHM listening day - Sept 20, 2025

  Becca Sykes and Louisa Currie, both special education teachers who came to Appalachian State University for their undergraduate and master's degrees, describe falling in love with the Appalachian Mountains and staying in the area after graduation. On Thursday night before Hurricane Helene, they planned a cozy sleepover at Becca's house in Powers Creek—a remote property up a holler with log cabins dating to the 1900s—thinking it would just be a rainy weekend. Becca's father called insisting they get water, which they reluctantly did, buying one case before settling in to watch Little House on the Prairie with wine. They went to bed unaware of what was coming. Around 9 p.m., the power went out and Becca's landlord knocked on the window in a panic, saying water was coming over the dam. Becca moved both cars back as water rose above her boots, then they went back to bed. Around noon the next day, the landlord returned banging on the door, traumatized and speechless, saying "everything's gone." When they stepped outside, the beautiful little stream in front of Becca's house had become a white water river. Walking down the road, they saw their neighbor's cottage completely gone—just a chimney remaining with a mudslide covering it. The entire road at the bottom of the mountain had disappeared, replaced by Howard's Creek rapids, and the whole community living above was trapped. For the next few days, they were stranded as trees continued falling and landslides kept happening. They moved all mattresses to the front of the house, terrified that a mudslide from the mountain behind them would push through their back bedrooms. They couldn't sleep, listening to the rushing water in silence. Becca's landlord family began rescuing people—their son retrieved a girl stuck on top of a landslide, and they found a man trapped under his house. On the third day, they decided to leave, packing what mattered most (Becca brought her cat Yuki in a Trader Joe's freezer bag, photos, and cat supplies, thinking everywhere was destroyed and she couldn't return). They crossed the receding water and walked over huge culverts where the road had been, with EMTs helping people slide down makeshift paths. Driving back into Boone, they were shocked to find town looked fine—people running, shopping at Lowe's Foods, living normal lives. Louisa's roommates were partying, completely unaware of what had happened just miles away. Becca's father drove from Raleigh and took her home, while Louisa immediately "locked in" to volunteering for a month straight with Samaritan's Purse, River Girl, and other groups, backpacking food and demucking houses from 7 a.m. to 4 p.m. daily. The volunteer efforts were largely disorganized because the area is so off-grid and private. Both struggled to process the trauma—Becca couldn't express emotions for weeks until breaking down trying to read an article for grad school, while Louisa didn't fully process it until summer after teaching ended. When schools reopened a month later, they received lists of students in "tier one, two, or three"—homeless or displaced—and found students unmotivated because "nothing really mattered" compared to helping families. Leaving Boone at Christmas, Louisa felt devastated seeing the developed DC area, realizing how isolated they'd been and how nobody outside understood. Both go back and forth about staying—the place breaks their hearts daily but also fills them with love for the community. Becca returned to her house after just a day or two, bonding deeply with her landlord family while helping with debris removal, living without electricity for 14 days and dealing with no running water. They emphasize that "nothing matters besides love and community" and the importance of talking about the experience despite how isolating it felt.
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  Listening Day - Norris Mark

  Listening Day - Norris Mark
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  Jocelyn Lacey - BRAHM interview - Sept 20, 2025

  This oral history interview features Jocelyn Lacy, recorded on September 20, 2025, at the Blowing Rock Art and History Museum. Lacy, a graduate of East Tennessee State University who grew up in Johnson City, Tennessee, moved to Blowing Rock in December 2023 with her husband (a yacht designer) after living in various coastal locations including Maine, Rhode Island, New Jersey, and the Outer Banks. Ironically, they relocated to the mountains to be closer to family and escape hurricanes, only to experience Hurricane Helene—and a tornado—in their new mountain home. During the storm, Lacy was quarantined with COVID and initially unaware of the severity, while her husband ventured into the community to witness the devastation firsthand, including the complete flooding of Casting Bread, a nonprofit located on a creek below their house that provides food services to the community multiple times weekly. Lacy and her sister operate a family foundation established by their mother in memory of their father (and now both parents), which provided emergency grants to local nonprofits including Casting Bread, Hospitality House, Western Youth Network, Oasis, Watauga Community Action, and the Hunger and Health Coalition. As a children's book author, Lacy was in the process of publishing "Michael's Journey from Caterpillar to Butterfly," set in the Blue Ridge Mountains and featuring local landmarks like Blowing Rock and Grandfather Mountain's Swinging Bridge. She decided to donate 20% of book sales to Hurricane Helene relief efforts, partnering with local nonprofits to support recovery and help businesses that lost critical October tourism revenue. Lacy reflects on the community coming together despite differences, the challenges of being isolated without cell service while people worried about them, and her gratitude for the Blowing Rock Art and History Museum's listening day to share stories with a wider audience beyond what television coverage could convey.
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  Hannah Finklestein Interview - BRAHM Listening Day - Sept 20, 2025

  This oral history interview features Hannah Finkelstein, a first-year seminar lecturer at Appalachian State University, recorded on September 20, 2025, at the Blowing Rock Art and History Museum. Finkelstein lives in Ashe County in West Jefferson, just off Highway 163 near the New River, in a neighborhood located behind a low-water bridge. She initially prepared for what she thought would be a typical storm causing a day or two of isolation, but filled pots, pans, and her bathtub with water out of caution—a decision that proved lifesaving during the two-week period without power or water. The storm's intensity became apparent as she watched trees bend nearly horizontal and saw lightning illuminate her cabin from all sides. She lost power at 4 a.m. and spent hours in darkness on the first floor hearing trees crash down, completely cut off from communication with no phone service or Wi-Fi. When Finkelstein finally ventured outside, she found her neighborhood completely isolated—the low-water bridge was destroyed (with steel I-beams "shredded like pieces of paper"), roads blocked in both directions, and the river flooding 50-75 yards beyond its banks. As the youngest resident in her 30s in a neighborhood of people in their 70s and 80s, she worked with neighbors to check on each other's safety by walking door-to-door. On day four, five strangers from an ambulance repair company who had taken the week off work arrived on ATVs, spent six hours clearing trees and brush from an alternative ATV trail exit, and refused payment—exemplifying the volunteer spirit she witnessed throughout recovery. Finkelstein got power and water restored on day 13, with internet returning three weeks later, complicating her ability to teach remotely and support traumatized students, many from the Asheville area. She emphasizes the critical importance of knowing neighbors regardless of political differences, crediting those relationships with her survival. Her neighborhood collectively rebuilt their bridge in two months, with Finkelstein personally constructing the safety rails. She reflects on FEMA's failure to accommodate working people (going through 11 inspectors over nearly a year before funding ran out), the vital role of Down Home North Carolina in coordinating real-time resources, and the jarring experience of the nation's delayed awareness of the crisis due to widespread power outages preventing communication of the disaster's true scale.
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  Elena Dalton - BRAHM - Listening Day - Sept 20, 2025

  This oral history interview features Elena Dalton, Executive Director of FARM Cafe (Feed All Regardless of Means) in downtown Boone, North Carolina, recorded on September 20, 2025, at the Blowing Rock Art and History Museum. Dalton had been intensely focused on the nonprofit's largest fundraiser of the year on Tuesday of that week and only began hearing about the approaching storm afterward. On Thursday, as rain poured so heavily that flooding began inside the building, she and program director Shane moved old sandbag tent weights upstairs to place in front of doors as a precaution. After clearing a garden bag that had blocked a roof drain, Dalton drove home past the New River in the Bamboo area and was alarmed by how swiftly the water was rising. Living on the east side of the county near the Blue Ridge Parkway, she spent the storm standing at her back door listening to the sounds of wind and the snapping, breaking, and booming of giant white pines surrounding her property, while receiving jarring images from friends showing King Street—where FARM Cafe is located—looking like a brown river. Thanks to neighbors chainsawing and clearing roads, Dalton reached the cafe Sunday morning to find everything dry with power restored. After confirming with the power company that refrigeration had only been down a couple hours and all food was safe, she, one staff member, and founder Renee Bowman immediately began cooking—and didn't stop for two months. They opened the doors with a sign reading "The lights are on, you can boil the water here. Come sit and be for a little while if you just need a place to be." As one of the only places with both electricity and running water (though not potable), FARM Cafe became a critical community hub where people could charge phones, get hot meals, boil water, and simply receive comfort. Within hours of requesting bottled water, the entire dining room was filled with donations. Dalton describes a couple and their friend arriving covered in debris and mud after their home was destroyed by a landslide—everything except the room they were in—with FARM Cafe being the first place they came for safety and to let people know they were alive. She witnessed profound acts of kindness, including community members who had lost everything coming in to cook for others, and a Greensboro farmer driving up an entire trailer of farm-raised meat collected from neighbors. Dalton reflects on how the experience reinforced her belief that people are fundamentally good, emphasizing the importance of compassion and remembering how quickly circumstances can change anyone's situation—a lesson learned from the unhoused individuals FARM Cafe serves.
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  David Armbrust interveiws at BRAHM listening day - Sept 20, 2025

  This oral history interview features David Armbrust, recorded on September 20, 2025, at the Blowing Rock Art and History Museum. Armbrust has lived for over 25 years on 15 acres with a post-and-beam house on the Pisgah with breathtaking 100-mile views, located at the end of a three-quarter-mile gravel road through forest off Highway 221. Like many residents, he initially dismissed the approaching hurricane, believing it would dissipate over land and become just a rainy storm. He followed weather podcaster Ryan Hall Y'all, whose coverage indicated no major threat was expected. Fortunately, Armbrust had installed a whole-house generator about 18 months prior and had a 75% full propane tank, which he calculated would last three weeks. Two months before the storm, he had also purchased a Verizon home internet box for $35/month as backup—a decision that proved critical when AT&T's DSL lines went down, allowing him to maintain internet access throughout the eight-day power outage. During the storm, Armbrust experienced the dramatic contrast between his reinforced concrete lower level (where rain looked like a fire hose spraying the house but wind was inaudible) and the main floor where it sounded like the roof would blow off. His home weather system recorded sustained winds of 85 mph and gusts of 135 mph before the device itself blew away. He watched giant trees 2.5-3 feet in diameter and 120-150 feet tall whipping like saplings, later learning from Ryan Hall's coverage that seven tornadoes had touched down nearby, explaining the violent tree movements. After five days of clearing with chainsaws and his tractor alongside a younger neighbor, they reached Highway 221 only to find a fallen transformer blocking their exit. Armbrust then took his adventure motorcycle through the woods and onto Holloway Mountain Road, riding through mud to reach Highway 105, where he saw a double-wide trailer jammed under a bridge and rode through inch-deep running mud into Boone. He reflects on the critical lesson that staying was dangerous—had he been injured, rescuers couldn't have reached him and he would have put others at risk. The community response impressed him, particularly the American Legion Hall's massive food and clothing distribution operation with organized sorting and labeled boxes. He watched endless "sky caravans" of helicopters flying relief missions all day between Lenoir and Banner Elk areas. Despite offering his generator-powered home for hot meals, showers, and air conditioning, his independent-minded neighbors declined, embodying what he describes as "semi-frontiersmanship." A year later, the Army Corps of Engineers finally removed some trees, but dangerous deadfall remains on hillsides, creating ongoing wildfire concerns.