Sitting here in 2025, it’s hard to remember the days before the Helene. But I’ve been combing my memory, making sure to walk through the week leading up to September 27th. It is an important part of the story of Helene, why we were caught off guard and why we were collectively unprepared.

Johnny and I got to the mountains on Saturday, September 21 for our usual week in the mountains. I was signed up for Fall Craft Week in Montreat with plans to create another piece of stained glass as I had the last two years. I was becoming more confident in my skills and arrived with a pattern and even two large sheets of glass that helped me develop my vision.

My dear friend and fellow Montreat lover, Amber and another friend, Jamie, were coming from Huntersville for their first Fall Craft Week. Jamie signed up for Stained Glass and Amber was signed up for Photography, which was divine timing as she captured the last moments of places in Montreat, Asheville and Lake Lure that no longer exist. Craft Week encourages and empowers adults to stretch their imagination, something we only emphasize to children. As we grow up, somehow we force adults to fit inside a box and this week goes against that habit. This week of immersive craftsmanship, working alongside others solely focused on pushing our physical and mental boundaries to make what is stirring and blending in our head come to life has come to be intensely therapeutic for me. I was thrilled to have two friends beside me for a week I have come to cherish. I needed it so much in those months after Mom died. It opened up a whole new love affair with the arts for me and I’ve been chasing the arts ever since that first Fall Craft Week in 2022. Last year was wrought with unexpected challenges and disappointments and I desperately needed a week of healing, especially in Montreat. I needed it to give back to me in a way it had not in 2024. I had big expectations for what I wanted to make, having already picked out a place to hang my piece, choosing to work with a difference type of metal in this piece and most importantly I needed time to exhale.

Fall Craft Week kicked up Sunday night, Sept 22 and was scheduled to end the evening of the 26th with a display of all of our crafts from the week. There were a variety of activities other than photography and stained glass. Other options were jewelry making, woodcarving, watercolor painting, fabrics, writing, pottery and even making instruments which are always played by the makers the closing night. My class gathered in the Walkup Building that sits on the edge of Robert Lake Park, close to Flat Creek and the bridge dedicated to Mom after her passing. When I say this week is intently immersive, understand that’s what I want. For the most part we are all there to soak in something outside of the norm. Our teachers bring all the supplies we need, including glass (I only brought some of my own because I stumbled on someone selling some and it spoke to me). We are all there to escape the busy world for just a week and take something home with us. We began working each morning at 9 am and often stayed well into the night. Inside Walkup there was a constant stirring of sounds and scents. Scoring and snapping glass, the pains of delicate foiling often brought a sigh or grunt, but we continued. On the porch we took turns using the grinders to perfect our imperfect cuts. A sudden squeal just meant someone had cut themselves, a frequent occurence and not a big deal. Just goes with the territory of stained glass making. Many of us came as strangers, some of us were regulars from years past and enjoyed catching up on the last year. We admired each other’s work, praised the cuts, admired skills and basked in the joy of our successes. We bonded over glass.

The weather outside was not so joyful. September can be stunning in these mountains, but that week was damp, so very damp and dreary. We worked inside for the most part and remained unaffected by the constant rain. We were only reminded of it when it was time to head to Assembly Inn for meals. We carpooled, ran or coated up to stay dry on the walk up the hill. Meals didn’t take long because all Jamie and I wanted to do was get back to our glass. We could feel the time ticking off the clock and we had big tasks ahead of us. Amber’s class often took her off campus during lunch, but if she was in Montreat, the three of us dined together. Meals gave me an opportunity to see and catch up with a couple of pottery teachers I worked with this summer and I always enjoyed hugs and smiles with them.

Thinking back, it seems like around Tuesday we began to hear stirrings of a storm heading through the gulf. I paid zero attention to that. Florida is forever away and one would never think it might affect us. I was off social media and not seeing any news during my week of crafts so I really had no clue. Wednesday the rain continued and it was intense. Sheltered inside Walkup I was unaware of just how much rain was falling. Sometime Wednesday afternoon Johnny sent me a video of him walking on our back patio. The rain had temporarily stopped but his feet were covered in standing water on our patio. Not good. We had never had this much rain, we knew more was coming and we had almost two inches of standing water. The ledge to the backdoor was almost breeched and the warnings of more rain were intensifying. I remember hearing our teachers say they got a text from Montreat Retreat Association indicating they were considering moving Thursday’s closing event location because we were expecting so much rain and wanted to limit being outside transporting our work for display. Again, just rain, what’s all this concern. No big deal, why would people fret about this? It’s just water.

When I got home Wednesday night, we got an email from our HOA warning of the coming storm and suggesting we make plans to prepare. This water thing was nonsense. My head was wrapped up in glass, lead, copper foil and soldering. Johnny had decided to take the day off Thursday to dig a ditch in the backyard to redirect the stormwater that flooded our patio. He planned to go to Lowes to get sandbags to build a berm to shore up the ditch and force the water down and away from the house. My brain assumed this was all handled, I had glass to finish Thursday and the time I had to complete it might be shortened if our teachers needed to pack up early.

The Thursday morning sky wasn’t just spitting rain, it was pouring down in buckets. Buckets and buckets. Having had rain all week I began to see patches of standing water. Jamie texted and asked me to pick her up so she didn’t have to get soaked walking in the rain from the Inn. I remember pulling up to the Inn and was blocked by a couple of cars loading up suitcases. What in the what? Why are these people leaving? Jamie got in the car and told me those people were leaving early because they had to fly out and there were rumors flight service might be interrupted. Ok, fair enough but who leaves Fall Craft Week early? I waited 51 weeks for it to come again, I am not leaving early for some rumor of rain. Whatever. Jim Cantore was in FL, not North Carolina. We were just gonna get some more rain, just like we had each day that week.

As Thursday morning progressed, I heard our instructors speeding up their wrap up plans. We would need to finish our projects much faster and I had a LOT to go. I stayed head down focused, but could hear them discussing loading up the trailer in just a few hours and heading back to TN that night instead of the next day. I can still feel that fast and furiousness in my head, anxious to finish my ambitious project but beginning to slightly feel some awareness of rain. I was only anticipating water, no wind, no damage, just water. None of this really concerned me. We have a home here, we live here. We aren’t going anywhere.

Johnny checked in with me after his visit to Lowes (which was destroyed by Helene). He had gotten 20 sandbags, worked out in the rain to dig the ditch and needed more sandbags. He went to the Swannanoa ACE Hardware ( also destroyed by Helene) to get more sandbags. The customer in front of him bought the remaining bags in the store, so Johnny had to buy sandbox sand. He let me know because those 6 bags cost more than the 20 sandbags. Ouch, but oh well, saving the house was a necessity of course. It’s just the cost of homeownership and a storm. Who knew how much more we would learn about this?He had taken notice of the HOA warning of rain and was taking it more seriously too. Johnny does not have an ounce of fear or worry in his body, but he does prepare when needed.

At lunch we were told there would be no closing celebration. Tables were already set up in the lobby and in just a couple hours we would bring our projects to display, the silent auction would end and we could depart. An announcement was made that made me finally take notice. She said people need to leave that night. Don’t wait until tomorrow. The Inn would likely lose power and we were expecting an event of historic proportion, a catastrophic storm was coming. Excuse me, what in the what? Amber and Jamie decided to leave that night. I encouraged them to stay. I didn’t want them to cut their vacation from life short and we were having fun. I told them worst case they could come stay at our house if the Inn lost power. They both felt more comfortable heading home that afternoon. They wouldn’t need to be in a rush since the drive was only 2 hours but it just made sense. People began to flow through the lobby with packed luggage, there was a briskness in everything, everywhere. I saw the MRA staff huddling and their faces were distressed. The words historic and catastrophic echoed in my head. Should I heed this warning? Maybe, but not now, I had to go finish my piece and help pack the trailer.

I finished my project with no time to spare, helped our teachers pack up and clean the room and saw Jamie and Amber off. It was another successful and memorable week. Amber had taken incredible pictures all over Montreat, Asheville and Lake Lure. Photographs of history in the making, as Helene was beginning to form and forever change our landscape, our brains and our souls. Montreat had been bustling with crafters on Thursday morning, but by evening it was vastly different. It was wet, so very wet and very much like the winter town of Montreat with few people, cars and signs of life.

Johnny and I headed to the grocery store that night. We knew there was talk of losing power, but we assured each other it wouldn’t be for long. After all, if we lost power we would just go back to Huntersville. We knew we had the potential for some water issues and wanted to stay here to see how the temporary ditch did. We went to the grocery store and bought mostly perishable things. I bought things to make a massive pot of chilli, perfect for cold rainy days and nights. Ingles was packed, absolutely packed. We were all buying bread, milk and eggs. What is it with that anyway? The egg aisle was almost empty. I’m not kidding. People were buying all the water in the store. We chuckled and said we didn’t need that since we have city water and never lose water service. We ran into a friend whose wife asked him to grab some things. He said “We don’t even drink milk but by golly now we have it anyway”. We chuckled that we were buying ice cream and other things that had to be frozen or refrigerated. We reminded each other we could just leave Friday morning.

As we drove home and approached our home that sits beside Flat Creek, I told Johnny I was worried about this storm. He responded with his typical “Don’t worry, pray”. Ugg, he is so much more mature than me. As we drove up the slight incline to our house he stopped the truck and pointed towards the creek. He told me for us to flood, the creek would have to rise and flood the lower land on the other side as far as 300 yards wide and then come over our side. “That will never happen.” I felt reassured by his confidence and reasoning. I made chili and we settled in by the fire for a warm and cozy evening. I was feeling quite accomplished with my project. My week was all the healing, therapy and success I had longed for.

I settled in bed and started scrolling Facebook. I was seeing more about Helene. Then I started getting emergency mandatory evacuation notices for some residents in Montreat and also on Flat Creek Rd, the road that runs parallel to ours on the other side of the creek. We have had recent storms that have flooded some lower lying areas along the creek, but some of these evacuation orders were for areas never evacuated, and these were not voluntary, they were mandatory. Yikes, but we are safe, we will be just fine. I remember throwing my phone on charge thinking IF we lose power I will want it charged up. I snuggled into my warm and cozy bed and drifted off.

I woke up sometime during the early morning hours. Our noise machine was off so I knew we had lost power. No biggie, this was predicted. I rolled over and went right back to sleep.

I woke up again around 6:30 am. I think the noise of wind and rain woke me up. I walked into the living room. What kind of hell was happening outside? I could see trees bending in the wind. I watched a huge tree sway back and forth and finally snap down landing across our road right beside my neighbor’s fence. I could see the creek had indeed breached the other side and was slowly creeping across that 300 yards. Our patio was wet but the ditch was holding up. I had no idea what was happening, but hell and high water had definitely come and we were still in the thick of it.

© Gatewood Campbell, January 2025