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.

Do you have a story or item to add? Contribute Your Story

Please help by sharing these stories.

• 

  Unknown

  Crystal Smith - interview recorded on September 20, 2025, at the Blowing Rock Art and History Museum.

  Interview Description: This oral history interview features Crystal Smith, co-owner of The Summit indoor pickleball facility in Boone, recorded on September 20, 2025, at the Blowing Rock Art and History Museum. Smith has lived in Boone for 26 years after attending Appalachian State University. On the morning Hurricane Helene hit, around 8 a.m., she picked up her business partner Grant to check on their 15,000-square-foot facility, which had opened just a year earlier and was approaching its one-year anniversary. Finding the warehouse intact with only minimal water damage, Smith immediately told Grant she wanted to transform the facility into a donation drop-off center rather than continue pickleball operations. What they initially thought would occupy just their small "Dinkin kitchen" warm-up area quickly expanded to fill all six pickleball courts with supplies as 63-foot trailers arrived from Ohio, Kentucky, Alabama, Florida, Tennessee, and the coast. The Summit became one of the main relief hubs for Watauga County and surrounding areas, partnering with the Boone Chamber of Commerce (particularly Carrie Henderson), Cornerstone Church, and the local high school. Smith describes "coordinated chaos" where hundreds of volunteers worked 8 a.m. to sometimes 9:30 p.m., with people instinctively gravitating toward roles they were good at without needing direction. Remarkably, the facility maintained electricity, water, internet, and Wi-Fi when surrounding areas did not—what Smith describes as "almost a miracle" that positioned them exactly where they needed to be. She emphasizes the beauty of witnessing political divisions dissolve as the election approached, with volunteers and recipients helping each other without questions or judgment based on party affiliation. Smith and Grant were honored with a Boone Spirit Award, though she insists the real recognition belongs to the volunteers, viewing The Summit as simply providing "a roof for donation drop-off." The experience was humbling and expanded her sense of community, creating lasting connections with strangers she now recognizes around town. Smith's landlord was supportive during the month-long closure, and sponsors remained committed throughout. She reflects on how "it takes something so traumatic and just darkness to bring light," expressing hope that if disaster strikes again, people will know they can rely on The Summit as a community resource.
• 

  Unknown

  Cheryl Angel - This oral history interview was recorded on September 20, 2025, at the Blowing Rock Art and History Museum.

  This oral history interview features Cheryl Angel, recorded on September 20, 2025, at the Blowing Rock Art and History Museum. Angel's account is a comprehensive written narrative titled "Western North Carolina versus Helene, 9-27-24," documenting her experience from a cabin built on pure granite at 4,300 feet elevation. The narrative begins with a tornado warning on Thursday evening, September 26th at 9:57 p.m., when a rotational cloud was spotted at Grandfather Mountain about 10 miles away. Angel, her husband, and their cat Charlie retreated to their concrete crawl space under the garage, waiting for the "freight train sound" that never came. They filled gallons of water anticipating power outages, but no one suggested evacuation—the Charlotte news station forecast 60 mph winds and 6-10 inches of rain, conditions that didn't seem alarming for their location. Power flickered off at 6:25 a.m. Friday and went out completely at 8 a.m. for what became 11 days. Blue Ridge Energy reported 23 of 27,000 customers without power. Angel describes five hours of terror as multi-directional winds swayed immovable hemlocks and large trees, with sheets of sideways rain seeping through log cabin knot holes, dripping down walls and puddling on floors. They hammered nails into logs to hold towels for absorption. When she tried to rescue a hummingbird feeder, the wind blew her back inside. With no internet and cell towers jammed or destroyed, they were essentially cut off—even two-line texts required three attempts to send. Her brother in Raleigh finally confirmed they were one-third to halfway through the storm around 9 a.m. By 1 p.m., winds decreased and her rain gauge showed 7.5 inches; later it reached 14.25 inches (likely more given sideways rain), with reports of 65+ mph winds. Two huge oaks fell, one missing their heat pump by feet, another missing the Jeep her husband had moved the night before, and just brushing their new garage doors. Neighbors explored and found they were trapped—trees, downed power poles, and a landslide blocked both directions. One neighbor on home oxygen therapy was running low on battery charge with Lincare diverting calls to Oklahoma; they used a generator to keep her batteries charged. A mother with three young children was alone while her husband remained at Watauga Hospital on emergency protocol, finally getting home Sunday by going off-road. A contractor neighbor with heavy equipment began chainsawing and grading an alleyway just wide enough for vehicles. Angel's narrative continues with detailed journal entries through November 22nd (56 days post-Helene), documenting the long recovery process. She describes the feeling of total loss of control when trapped, the guilt of leaving neighbors who had nowhere else to go, and the devastation witnessed driving out—a double-wide jammed under a bridge, the Watauga River Bridge on Highway 321 washed over with debris, muddy flooded ruins replacing fall beauty. She emphasizes critical communication failures: evacuation orders were issued but never reached mountain residents, a "huge safety and communication issue" that needs addressing. Angel volunteered for eight weeks at the Banner Elk Historic Rock School Resource Center, which served over 4,000 families with 700+ volunteers before closing November 23rd. She witnessed both abuse of the system (people driving hours to fill vans for unaffected areas) and genuine need (a local girl who lost all her shoes to flooding). The narrative addresses housing crises, FEMA presence, fraudulent claims, trauma responses (one person panicking at rain forecasts), and the long-term nature of recovery. Angel describes Banner Elk's remarkable resilience—the town manager pulled off a virtual Wooly Worm Festival while rebuilding the water system, 98% of water/sewer service was restored, and Christmas decorations went up for a "Small Town Christmas" celebration December 6-8. Her final entry from June 27th (nine months post-Helene) notes that leaves on trees now cover fallen and broken trees that haven't been removed, creating an appearance of normalcy, though the community still dreads the first anniversary. She met a sweet elderly neighbor who asked for their names to add to her prayer list, reminding Angel of her late mother on what would have been her 92nd birthday.
• 

  Unknown

  Cat Perry - This oral history interview features Kat Perry, a Blowing Rock Town Council member, recorded on September 20, 2025, at the Blowing Rock Art and History Museum.

  Perry has lived in the area for 13 years after attending Appalachian State University in the 1970s and returning many times with her husband before purchasing their home in 2016. At the time of Hurricane Helene, they lived on the golf course in Blowing Rock at approximately 4,000 feet elevation. Perry describes the rain as not particularly ferocious but relentless, lasting for hours. She and her husband monitored a drain at the top of their driveway that regularly clogs during normal rains, going out every 30 minutes to clear it to prevent flooding into their garage. About two hours into the storm, Perry walked around their small two-street neighborhood to check on neighbors, completely unaware of the larger consequences unfolding across the region. Remarkably, Perry's home never lost power, though they did lose internet—which she describes as nearly causing her to "lose my mind," revealing how dependent daily life had become on connectivity. Without good cell service and unable to Wi-Fi call, text, or receive messages, they felt isolated despite being physically safe. When the rain subsided, they drove to the Food Lion parking lot to find internet access, responding to concerned friends from all over—their first indication that the situation was being widely reported as serious. The next day at Food Lion, Perry encountered a fellow town council member and others who said "it was really bad." She and her husband drove to Sam's Club in Hickory to buy water, returning to donate it to the Presbyterian Church food pantry across from Braum, only to find they were already overwhelmed with supplies and seeking additional storage space. Perry helped them locate a secondary location, then visited the American Legion, which had already established a smoothly operated collection and distribution system. Perry emphasizes the strange contrast of Blowing Rock seeming "sort of spared" and existing "in a bubble" while just miles away there was "total devastation." She learned much later about the full extent of loss—friends living near Meat Camp on nearly 50 acres had a house slide down from the hill above them in a mudslide, killing all four occupants. Perry reflects that nobody anticipated mudslides of that magnitude, noting that what devastated the western part of the state "wasn't flooding as much as mudslides"—the water moved the earth so quickly and without warning. She praises the community's spontaneous response, with people rolling up their sleeves immediately, and describes witnessing many people filling vans and trucks to deliver supplies long distances for months. As a member of the Rotary Club (motto: "Others before self, service before self"), she notes they donated significantly to charities and rebuilding organizations. Perry acknowledges feeling changed by the event, developing "more of a sense of community on a larger scale" and recognizing that unpredictable disasters like hurricanes and tornadoes (Blowing Rock had a tornado a couple days before Helene) can happen anywhere. She expresses hope for better emergency notification systems, particularly for isolated mountain areas where terrain creates communication challenges, referencing a journalist's series about people in the Spruce Pine/Mitchell County area who had no warning before being washed away. Perry appreciates the oral history project's focus on real people's stories rather than "parachute journalism" where national reporters cover an event and leave, missing the ongoing recovery narratives.
• 

  Unknown

  Canaan Otting Interview recorded on September 20, 2025, at the Blowing Rock Art and History Museum.

  This oral history interview features Canaan Otting, recorded on September 20, 2025, at the Blowing Rock Art and History Museum. Otting, an 18-year-old resident of Burnsville, North Carolina, had recently moved back from living with his father to his great-grandmother's house when Hurricane Helene struck. He describes Burnsville as a small, sheltered town surrounded by mountains where hurricanes typically cause minimal damage—usually just basement flooding and brief power outages lasting a couple hours. The night of the storm, after losing internet and cell service, Otting went to bed thinking it would be a typical hurricane season event. He was awakened hours later around 3 a.m. by the sound of rushing wind that "sounded like a tornado," something he'd never experienced before. Looking outside, he saw trees falling everywhere and the driveway already flooded. His mother came upstairs reporting the basement was flooding, and when they opened the basement door, water came gushing out "like a waterfall"—it had built up under the porch and burst through the basement window. Otting, his two brothers, and his mother tried desperately to salvage belongings and bail water, but it reached knee-deep and they gave up, grabbing what they could and moving upstairs. Living in the home were also Otting's great-grandmother (who had dementia and has since passed away), his great-uncle (who is blind, crippled, and diabetic), and his grandmother (who has MS and difficulty walking). The storm was so dark and gray—"the darkest time I've ever been through"—that clear skies didn't appear until noon. When they went downstairs afterward, everything was destroyed. The entire downstairs where Otting, his brothers, and mother lived was damaged and they lost everything. His mother's fiancé came to rescue them, but they couldn't bring the elderly relatives because they couldn't walk and there were no rides available. Otting, his mother, and brothers walked ten miles through devastation and debris to reach the fiancé's truck, having to cross a broken bridge because there was no other way. Otting held onto his younger brothers, guiding them through the rubble—an experience that remains vividly traumatic for him. They moved to the mother's fiancé's house, having lost everything and needing to restart. For the first few weeks, Otting did community service in the affected area to obtain medications, shots, and groceries for his grandparents and disabled relatives. His private school started classes just one month after the hurricane while other schools remained closed, which frustrated him as he was trying to care for his family. He spent two weeks in community service and two weeks living at the damaged house helping his uncle up stairs, ensuring his great-grandmother got her medicines, and assisting his grandmother with cooking. His preacher from Concord Baptist Church, located up that same road, was also trapped at his house. By Christmas, the area was still "rubbly" and inaccessible by car, requiring ATVs to navigate fallen trees and damaged roads. His great-grandmother passed away about a week before Christmas, adding to the grief after having already lost two other people before the hurricane. Samaritan's Purse came in and repaired the house completely for free—fixing floors, foundation, and concrete—work done by "a bunch of old guys" who put their backs into it without asking for money. Otting now donates to Samaritan's Purse because without them, his grandmother and great-uncle would have no place to live. He emphasizes three lessons: don't put possessions over family because "you never get family back once they're gone"; find good internal structure because he wanted to break down and cry for days during the depression; and find peace with God, crediting his faith for getting him through and protecting his family when "anything could have happened." Though he lost everything materially, he didn't lose his family, "and that's all that mattered."
• 

  Unknown

  Hurricane helene damage to Linvile Ridge Golf Club

  I researched the damage and how people were affected by the hurricane
• 

  Unknown

  ENG3100 Presentation

  I was in Boone when Helene hit. Crazy experience and sights that I hope to never see again. The presentation linked below is my assignment for ENG3100.
• 

  Unknown

  Hurricane Helene Recovery Slideshow

  This video focuses on how Lost Providence handled Hurricane Helene
• 

  Unknown

  Resilience in the face of natural disaster, Betty's Biscuit Story

  Sharing the story of how Bettys Biscuits responded after Helene