Well, That Certainly Was Exciting — Welcome to DrBatten.com!

Kathy and I are not preppers, but we do take certain precautions. We keep a few gallons of bottled water on hand at all times. We keep a reasonable amount of cash in the safe. And, when we bought this house in Asheville, Buncombe County, North Carolina, I had a Generac whole-house generator installed, powered by natural gas. These were reasonable preparations for the standard natural disasters that I figured we might face.

Then along came Hurricane Helene.

We had warnings. School was canceled Thursday, the day before the storm hit. I looked at our preparations and decided that my only additional preparation was to fill the F-150 with gasoline, just in case we had to evacuate. That was somewhere in the ballpark of $85 worth of gasoline. I’m telling you, that F-150 has really improved with age: four years ago it only held $60 worth of gasoline.

The storm hit Friday morning. I got up around 5 AM and checked the house. All was well. No water in the basement, no water on the ceilings, just noise from the generator. I went back to bed. When I checked the house again at 7 AM, I had about 2 inches of water in the basement, leaks in the living room ceiling, a broken window (double-glazed, so it still kept the rain out), and the furious noises of a generator running and a storm such as I have never seen.

Kathy saw it first. A huge tulip poplar tree in the front yard had toppled. I do not know just how tall this tree was, but I know that when it fell over, going from east to west, it took out one of the handrails on the first set of steps from the driveway. But that wasn’t all it took out. After the handrail, it crushed Kathy’s car (which she had owned for just under a year), then totaled my beloved F-150, finally coming to rest on the trailer. The trailer also was totaled, but that was due, I think, to the massive limb that fell from the other tulip poplar tree, the one under which the trailer was parked, and coincidentally, the tree that the arborist had thinned out in the summer of ‘23.

We had coffee, waited for the storm to subside, and then assessed the damage.

We do not live in a floodplain. According to my handy dandy iPhone altimeter, we live at somewhere between 2100 and 2200 feet above sea level. (It has problems making up its mind.) The closest river, the Swannanoa River, is perhaps a quarter mile away, but at least 100 feet below us in altitude. The water in my basement was not due to any flooding. It was instead due to the fact that the storm circulation piled up water against the east side of the house, which is where the water entered the basement. Nothing I can do about that, other than eventually installing a French drain. Likewise the ceiling in the living room: the water seemed concentrated on the west end of the house. That is where the chimney is located. A roofer should be able to fix that. So the really big problem is the damage to vehicles. And before we can do anything about that, we have to remove a massive tree from all three.

We had electricity, courtesy of the Generac, but the water pressure was very low, and in fact, soon there was no water at all. That led me to recall the 3-3-3 rule which states that on average a human can survive without shelter in hostile weather (think Siberia) for about three hours, without water for about three days, and without food for about three weeks. Our shelter was secure, and we had food in the fridge and the freezer. Water would be the problem. We had less than 10 gallons potable on hand, and the normal human uses about 3.5 gallons per day.

Ah, the hot tub, which holds somewhere in the ball park of 300 gallons! We can use that to flush, and bathe.

And so we were set for survival. Various places around town were offering free food. When this mess is over and our restaurants are back in full swing, I am going to eat at Thai Kitchen and leave a healthy tip. We were offered free food there just in passing. The Apollo Flame Bistro uses natural gas for its stoves and ovens, and thus was able to offer healthy portions of lasagna for a very reasonable price. They were probably trying to sell all their food before it spoiled due to lack of refrigeration. We live near the hospital and visit it twice a day to download emails and check text messages. (Of course the internet was down, as were many cell towers). We had a very nice hot dinner there one evening, just before curfew, provided by some nice folks from down in Saluda.

And then, on Sunday, the generator stopped working. The repairman didn’t get it up and running again until Wednesday. In the interim, I borrowed an inverter from my stepson, connected it to a deep-cycle marine battery, and managed to keep cell phones and computers charged with it. Remarkably, it ran the fridge and freezer for another day before it finally overloaded. It really wasn’t designed to run appliances.

Even with the electricity restored, Kathy decided that playing pioneer woman was not for her. She visited friends in the Atlanta area, and had the luxury of taking a shower. (I have been getting along with dousing myself with a bucket of hot tub water. It works, though the water is no longer warm.) Kathy was able to get away courtesy of her daughter, who loaned us two cars. I am now keeping tabs on a half-dozen houses belonging to those who evacuated. The gasoline situation is no longer tight, so (thankfully!) I no longer need to siphon gasoline from the lifeless carcass of the F-150. My palate really isn’t accustomed to 87 octane.

Friday’s briefing by county and city officials, carried on Blue Ridge Public Radio, featured a PowerPoint presentation on the progress the city has made in restoring the water system. Yes, I know, a PowerPoint presentation is useless on a radio program, but then again, so is much of our city government: useless, that is. The fellows working 12-hour shifts around the clock are providing a great service, but there is no estimate as to when the water supply will be restored. Lucy and I are just taking it day by day.

There is one big takeaway for me from this disaster, aside from the note to myself to sign up for Starlink Internet. I haven’t seen a single government official or agency on the ground. Rumor has it that FEMA sent four managers here, but couldn’t spare any more from border duty. That is fine: the last thing we need is more managers. The people here have been helping themselves, and helping each other. And that is the takeaway: you are not on your own, if you have friends or a real community. But you are in deep doo-doo if your plan is to have the government help you. It can’t.