The Swannanoa Valley remembers the unforgettable
One year later, a community reflects on how Helene unleashed the worst of nature while Unveiling the best in humanity
Fred McCormick
The Valley Echo
September 25, 2025
One year after Tropical Storm Helene devastated and isolated the Swannanoa Valley, residents of Black Mountain and Swannanoa reflect on the most destructive natural disaster in the history of the state and how the community responded to the tragedy. Photo by Fred McCormick
The Appalachian Mountains have long been familiar with the overwhelming power of Mother Nature. The rugged landscape, formed more than one billion years ago, following a continental collision, challenged the Cherokee natives who inhabited the Swannanoa Valley long before the arrival of newly American settlers, who then endured wildfires, blizzards and droughts when they came to the isolated region after the Revolutionary War.
The same has always been true for floods, which have claimed hundreds of lives throughout Western N.C. in the 18th, 19th, 20th and 21st centuries. Historical context, however, did little to prepare local communities for the unimaginable devastation brought about by Tropical Storm Helene, which left a lasting impact on Black Mountain, Swannanoa and the surrounding communities, Sept. 27, 2024, unleashing unprecedented flooding and destruction upon the mountains and valleys below.
As the Swannanoa Valley prepares for the one-year remembrance of the storm, many local residents are observing the somber anniversary as a moment to reflect on the unforgettable tragedy.
What formed as a low-pressure system in the Caribbean Sea on Sept. 22, 2024, was named Helene, two days later, when the circular wind pattern organized into a tropical storm. In less than 24 hours, the system was identified as a hurricane, gaining strength from the warm waters of the Gulf of Mexico and resulting in significant damage along the east coast of Florida, where it came ashore, Sept. 26, as a category 4 hurricane.
With a diameter of approximately 400 to 500 miles, the massive storm produced unrelenting rain and wind as it churned through the southeastern U.S.
‘You may want to think about evacuating your station’
Firefighters from Swannanoa Fire & Rescue were confronted with growing flood risks, Sept. 27, 2024, as rescue efforts during Tropical Storm Helene were underway. Photo courtesy of Rey Castillo
Even as it braced for the impact of a storm that was downgraded to a tropical storm during its approach, the Swannanoa Valley was contending with the accumulation of more than 13 inches of rain in the days before Helene’s arrival. Crews from Swannanoa Fire & Rescue, which had all of its available 20 full-time, 13 part-time and 12 volunteer firefighters in its Beacon Village station and a task force from New Hanover County in its Bee Tree substation, were on standby the night before the storm.
Chief Anthony Penland, a native of Swannanoa who has served with the department for 35 years, including nearly 24 in his current role, directed his agency’s response to some of the most impactful man-made and natural disasters in the history of the unincorporated community. He was among the first to arrive on the scene in 2003, when the one million-square-foot former site of Beacon Manufacturing Co. burned down in one of the largest structure fires in the history of the state. The following year, as the remnants of Hurricanes Frances and Ivan pummeled the region and claimed two lives in the northwestern corner of Buncombe County, the SFD was inundated with calls related to flooding emergencies.
“Those two storms came in on back-to-back weekends, literally both on Friday night,” Penland said. “For perspective, they brought the water from the Swannanoa River up to the bottom of the (Whitson Avenue) bridge. It kind of splashed over, but it never fully covered the bridge.”
The department dispatched crews to warn residents in low-lying areas and locations that experienced high water during past tropical events, like Tropical Storm Fred in 2021, during the days leading up to Helene’s arrival.
“We knew those areas close to the river could experience flooding, because that happened in 2004,” Penland said. “Our staff was out there warning people and encouraging them to seek safety, prior to the storm.”
The conditions leading up to Helene caused additional concern, he added.
“You could already see the Swannanoa River was starting to deviate from its normal pattern,” Penland said. “There was standing water on the interstate and roadways, and that was the day before the storm got here.”
The Swannanoa department remained in constant contact with the Buncombe County Emergency Management, National Weather Service and the Asheville Water Department, which monitored the conditions of the North Fork and Bee Tree Reservoirs, both of which feed into the Swannanoa River.
“Swannanoa is about a mile-and-a-half wide and about four miles long, and while you might think you’re getting 13 inches of rain down here, it also rained 13 inches on the mountains, and that water goes into the reservoirs and rivers,” Penland said. “I was on a conference call that addressed a lot of this at 4:30 a.m., that Friday morning.”
Within minutes, the evacuation area expanded, leading a department request for buses and law enforcement assistance to transport residents out of threatened areas, while the gravity of the situation came into sharper focus 90 minutes later.
“We got a call that said, ‘you may want to think about evacuating your station,’” Penland recalled. “We were told we could potentially face flooding, or risk being trapped on this side of the river.”
‘I felt like the world needed to see what was happening’
A home on Flat Creek in Black Mountain barely escaped being washed away by severe flooding from Tropical Storm Helene. Photo courtesy of Rey Castillo
Rey Castillo is a lifelong resident of the area between Asheville and Hickory, but mostly of Buncombe County. The instructor of American Sign Language at Blue Ridge Community College is known around his hometown of Swannanoa for his emotion-evoking photojournalism, highlighting a diverse range of subjects, including youth sports, concerts, community gatherings and emergency responses. While also a volunteer photographer for the SVD, his first indication the excessive rainfall from Helene could potentially lead to disaster came when he was driving along N.C. 9, near Chimney Rock and Bat Cave, on the evening of Sept. 26.
While the videos capture a dark river raging in front of a black background, the white caps on top of the water were nearing the bank of Broad River before 9 p.m. When he was awakened the next morning by a phone call asking for assistance in removing a fallen tree from the home of a family member, he was confronted with an unbelievable reality as he attempted to exit his home in Lytle Cove.
“I was able to drive all the way to Penland’s Furniture, and the road was covered with water,” said the owner of Rey Castillo Photography. “I decided to turn back around. By the time I reached Appalachian Tool, I was blocked by barbed-wire fencing attached to the bed of a truck. I watched several trucks trying to get up and they almost floated away.”
Stuck on U.S. 70, connecting Swannanoa to Black Mountain, he waited for the water to recede. As he explored his surroundings, a series of seemingly random observances helped relay the potential seriousness of the developing situation.
“There was a little sink hole. It was filled with several fish, including bass,” Castillo said. “I watched, from Penland’s down to the end of the curve, become a lake.”
The destruction was evident, and without his camera, the photographer began documenting the area between east Asheville and Ridgecrest with his phone. He spent much of the day of the storm capturing images and videos of the carnage left in the hours after the flooding subsided. As thousands of WNC residents lost power, internet and wireless service in the hours after the storm, Castillo found just enough signal near the Ridgecrest exit above I-40 to upload the footage to social media.
“I felt like the world needed to see what was happening,” he said. “The initial impact had media coming in for a day or two, because Milton then hit Florida. It felt like we were abandoned, but I wanted to keep getting the message out.”
Castillo’s life would change in the months ahead, as he traveled regularly to Asheville, Riceville, Bee Tree, Broad River, Chimney Rock and other communities around WNC to capture images and stories of residents. His familiarity with the local terrain allowed him to navigate the dangerous environment.
“So many outside rescuers were looking for places without a paper map,” he said. “There was some skepticism among some of them because I’m deaf, but I’m pretty familiar with all the roads around Black Mountain, Swannanoa, east Asheville, Bat Cave, Gerton, Chimney Rock, Fairview and Lake Lure.”
Castillo’s images offered many of those unable to leave their homes a glimpse into what was happening in the moments after the storm, while bringing the stories of victims to thousands of social media timelines.
‘It was all happening so quickly’
Rapidly deteriorating weather conditions, Sept. 27, 2024, caused major widespread flooding throughout the Swannanoa Valley. Photo by Fred McCormick
Swannanoa Fire & Rescue moved their equipment out of the bay, up to a higher elevation behind the station.
“I just told everyone to put everything as high as you can get it, and move the trucks up to higher ground,” Penland said. “We knew they were predicting close to 2004 flood levels, possibly worse, but when you’re told to think about evacuating your station, you have to start considering a lot of things.”
The department received support from a task force from New Hanover County, which was overseeing the operation at the Bee Tree substation, while swift-water technicians were dispatched in a high water rescue vehicle, beginning around 6 a.m. By the time the Swannanoa River engulfed U.S. 70 and the lower end of Beacon Village, the logistical aspects of rescue were tested.
The rescue boat was trapped after dropping off survivors at the First Baptist Church Swannanoa, as the highway was overcome by a “roaring river,” according to the fire chief.
“I remember a guy from Duke Energy walked in, introduced himself and said he was assigned to assist us if we needed any help with utilities,” Penland said. “I just thought, ‘this is all happening so quickly.’”
The department regrouped around Buckeye Cove, launching a series of rescues, including a mission by the New Hanover County crew that safely relocated 25 people from the Ingles parking lot. When the surge of water passed, Swannanoa crews began encountering impassible road conditions on the east and west sides of the community.
“We have videos of people being rescued from homes, around that time, that were no longer there in the afternoon,” Penland said. “At that point, we divided the community into eight quadrants and, with all the out-of-town resources that came here, we went into those neighborhoods. We had areas in Bee Tree that took a long time to get to because there was no access, with so many roads gone.”
Mounting evidence of a rapidly escalating disaster came to Castillo in the form of the intense scenes he observed that morning. Some he photographed, others were too personal.
“I watched several sheds and some homes floating by,” he recalled. “After the water receded, I went to the area around exit 55 and drove all the way through to Black Mountain. I started taking photos around any areas I could drive over.”
East of Swannanoa, where water from the Swannanoa River and Flat Creek covered many low-lying areas of Black Mountain, a bridge on Blue Ridge Road was washed away by rushing waters, while many winding roads to neighborhoods in the higher elevation were decimated.
While the full fury of the river was unleashed upon Swannanoa, the Town of Black Mountain was launching its own rescue efforts, which took firefighters well beyond the municipal boundary into areas like Ridgecrest, Broad River and Garren Creek, where landslides claimed the lives of 13 of the 43 victims in Buncombe County.
While stranded motorists packed parking lots, following the closure of the I-40 near the Eastern Continental Divide, local residents were emerging from their homes into an entirely new reality.
‘We Come Together Here’
Silverados, led by a team of residents consisting of Jason and Amy Ward, Cory and Christen Short and Ian and Jenalee Monley, was the site of a massive rescue and relief hub in the aftermath of Helene. The operation led the establishment of Valley Strong Disaster Relief, a nonprofit organization that continues to assist local victims of the storm. Photo by Fred McCormick
Jason Ward grew up on land, near the border of Black Mountain and Swannanoa, that had been in his family for generations. The owner of Trinity Pharms Hemp Co., which opened in downtown Black Mountain in 2019, never thought much of the invisible borders that delineate jurisdictions.
“All of my life, Black Mountain and Swannanoa have always been one and the same to me,” he said. “We’re all mostly made up of a community of Warhorses.”
He was well aware of the normal flooding risks associated with the tropical systems that often drift up from the south in early fall, so he went to bed the night before Helene and planned to take a look around in the morning. Ward and his wife, Amy, dutifully began picking up limbs in their yard in the minutes after gusting winds and rain passed over their home.
“While being outside after the storm, my neighbor drove slowly past in his pickup truck. My intention was to ask him if the roads were good and if we could get out,” Ward recalled. “Without him saying a word, I could see in his eyes that something was wrong. His only words to me were ‘everything is gone.’ His face, and those words, will forever be engraved in my mind.”
Left shaken by the warning, the Wards drove out of their neighborhood into unimaginable destruction. Tractor-trailers were tangled in trees along U.S. 70 and several familiar roads no longer existed in their nearly unrecognizable hometown.
The stories they heard confirmed some of their worst fears.
“Our first encounter at the bottom of our road was a lady that had just watched her loved one get swept away…” Ward said. “The only way to describe it was like driving into an apocalyptic movie set.”
Much of the day was “a blur,” with memories of moments in which they stopped to help whoever they could, he added. It was hours later, however, when Ward turned his phone’s camera around and shared an emotional plea with the large social media following he had amassed over the previous 13 years.
Posts of video messages recounting his experiences, and the stories of those he met, became almost a daily occurrence for months, often being shared hundreds or thousands of times.
“I’m nobody special, but for whatever reason I’ve always had some sort of social media following. Mostly for doing really dumb pranks to my family for over a decade…” he said, adding he never understood why people consumed the content. “But I’m thankful they did. It allowed me to have a platform to use for good.”
With an overwhelming amount of support coming in, the Wards turned to a couple he described as “salt of the earth” people.
Christen and Cory Short opened Silverados, which featured a large concert venue before the storm, in 2021. Employees, Jenalee and Ian Monley, asked to open a supply distribution hub inside the bar, while Ward’s social media platform generated offers of outside assistance, including skilled volunteers, equipment, generators and supplies.
Ward, whose Black Mountain business was the presenting sponsor of the venue’s outdoor concert season for two years, saw an opportunity to honor the founding spirit of the business that nearly straddles the boundary of Black Mountain and Swannanoa.
“The slogan that we put on our stage banners was “We Come Together Here,’” Ward said. “In my mind, it was just to bring our small community together for music, but I had no idea what those words would mean after Sept. 27, 2024, and how people would eventually show up from all over the world.”
A crisis within a catastrophe
An upright chair at Wards Lake in Charles D. Owen Park was among the debris scattered around the Swannanoa Valley for weeks, following the devastating impact of Tropical Storm Helene, Sept. 27, 2024. Photo by Rey Castillo
Black Mountain Home for Children has provided a safe and stable living environment for local youth on its current campus for over a century. The Christian faith-based ministry, which accepts residents placed in its care by the state, had dozens of staff on campus to support the more than 100 young residents as the storm descended upon the Swannanoa Valley. With volunteers at its south campus, near a creek bank, a group of college-age missionaries were moved to cabins at its Shepherd of the Hills center across Lake Eden Road.
“It took about an hour to get everyone truly settled in, after we evacuated the south campus around 5 a.m.,” said Jimmy Harmon, president of the nonprofit organization. “We also had a group of students from Adventures in Missions, who were in the cabins at our retreat center. There were about 40 college-age kids who were on a gap year mission trip.”
The facility, which opened in 1929 as a 4-H camp before it was later used to house German prisoners of war during World War II, was converted into a retreat center, event space and training center for the home’s apprenticeship program, providing career training in culinary arts, recreation leadership and hospitality, in 2017. As of last September, the campus had undergone significant renovations and contained a large dining hall, lodge, multiple camp cabins and staff residences.
The group of young missionaries were set to leave later the day the storm arrived. Concerned about the possibility of trees falling on the cabins, BMH leadership moved them to the dining hall, which sits atop a hill in a clearing.
“They took their sleeping bags over there, laid them out in the middle of the dining hall and tried to get some rest,” Harmon said. “There was a young man, who went to the back door, through the officer’s lounge, and noticed some water coming in. He looked up the mountain and saw trees walking down it.”
The alert volunteer directed his peers to exit the structure out of a door on the opposite end of the building.
“They took about five steps before a massive landslide hit the side of the building, completely covering the cabins they had been in,” Harmon said. “The dining hall was damaged, but if they had been in those cabins they would, at least, have been covered by trees, mud and boulders.”
The path of the slide measured as wide as 100 feet in some areas, leaving exposed bedrock in its wake. While all of the missionaries escaped physical harm, BMH staff was compelled to organize a rescue team.
“We have staff trained in CPR and first aid, and we have a big outdoor recreation program. Once the landslide died down enough, and it took about 30 minutes, they were able to get a rope across the debris field,” Harmon said. “There, they tied off the rope, from tree to tree, tied themselves to the rope, and were able to get those young people over, one at a time.”
While the group was able to leave later that day, the ordeal set a harrowing tone for the fallout from the storm.
“We were able to get them back to the gym on our main campus, they were able to take showers and we gave them clothes,” Harmon said. “Just moments after the last one got a shower, our power went off. It didn’t come back on for three months.”
Finding comfort in the Darkness
A candlelight vigil in the Black Mountain Town Square last fall commemorated the lives lost in Helene, which destroyed key infrastructure and equipment in the town. Photo by Fred McCormick
Many of the heart-wrenching stories of those who did not survive the floods and landslides are well-documented, due, in large part, to an in-depth series, “The lives we lost to Helene,” published by independent nonprofit local news outlet, “Asheville Watchdog.” The emotional toll of the loss of life remains heavy on the hearts of the community, according to Penland, who will read the names of all 43 Buncombe County victims in a candlelight vigil at the Bee Tree station at 6:30 p.m., Saturday, Sept. 27.
“Day two or three, either the Sunday or Monday after the storm hit, I called our communications and said I need mental health professionals, and I need them as soon as we can get them,” the Swannanoa chief said. “What people were coming back and saying they were seeing gave me just an idea of how big the impact was on them.”
Much of the personal connection is woven into the very fabric of the SFD, which was chartered as an all-volunteer department, primarily focused on fire prevention and protection, in 1959. The services have expanded to include personnel trained in fire, medical, swift water rescue, structural collapse and agriculture response. While the professional scope of the agency continues to evolve, the firefighters remain very much a part of the close-knit community, according to the chief.
“This is our community, and we were more than grateful to receive support from outside agencies, but the mentality of our staff was that nobody wanted to leave,” he said. “We all understood one of the hardest things to do was to ask people to leave their homes. But, once conditions reached the point we had to pull our people to safety, we went back, and some of those houses weren’t there anymore. Not knowing who got out and who didn’t get out took a real mental toll on a lot of our staff.”
Those fortunate enough to survive did so in an environment that would have not been possible to imagine just days before.
“In the days following the storm every store in the area was closed. The Asheville area was basically cut off to the outside world. Ingles in Swannanoa was gone, and the Ingles in Black Mountain was not open,” Ward said. “During the storm our friend Ian was out of town, his plan was to bring back supplies as soon as he could get back. He was gathering a list and was ultimately going to supply a small friend group, so we would Venmo him money and he’d stock up. When he finally made it back, his house was a grocery store. He had a couple barrels of fuel and a living room full of food and all the essentials.”
Communication was hard to coordinate, due to widespread loss of electricity, mobile phone service and internet, as isolated mountain coves remained difficult, and at times impossible to access. While the Monleys stocked the interior and front parking area of Silverados with essential supplies, like water, food and clothing, a large-scale rescue and recovery operation gained momentum in the outdoor venue behind the building.
“The first several days, that’s where I was spending most of my time, gathering and sharing information with recovery groups,” Ward said. “Amy and I would be able to relay some of the information that we received, via social media, to other resources like private helicopter operators and volunteer medical groups delivering oxygen and medications to people that were stranded. They had Starlink, and it was really the only way that we could stay connected.”
Castillo, who was also equipped with the mobile internet connection device, encountered residents and first responders struggling to establish reliable communication outlets and navigating the drastically altered landscape.
“I asked people if they needed anything, I wrote it down, went back for supplies and returned to deliver them,” he recalled. “I provided resources from Silverados and other organizations in the area. I also played middle man to find campers and connect donors with people in need.”
The outpouring of support from the community was “overwhelming from day one,” according to Ward.
“I remember people showing up to volunteer that had just lost everything they own. It doesn’t get more selfless than that,” he said. “We eventually saw people come from all 50 states, and at least seven different countries to give their time, their energy and money just to this tiny community.”
Cultivating an atmosphere of community is what John Garcia has done for over 12 years, since opening Lookout Brewing Co., at the intersection of East State Street and South Ridgeway Avenue. The local business owner, who debuted his downtown brewery in the shadow of the Great Recession, was not sure what to expect when he left his Haw Creek home the morning of the storm.
“My daughter and I got out of our house, and a bunch of chainsaws were used by neighbors who helped us leave the neighborhood,” Garcia said. “We had no idea about the storm at all, since I don’t watch much news. I actually thought the worst of it had passed, as of that morning, because we measured around 15 inches of rain at my house from the prior days.”
The damage he observed while driving on a nearly empty I-40 was jarring.
“We were like, ‘what happened?’” Garcia said. “We got to Lookout maybe around 11:30 a.m., and the whole drive over was eerie. When we arrived in Black Mountain, nothing was moving.”
With devastation leading up to his business, Garcia, whose home continues to undergo Helene-related repairs, was bemused when he arrived at the brewery.
“Everything on Sutton, including the Bush Farmhouse, was completely battered,” he said. “We finally got to Lookout, and not one flower pot was knocked over. How in the world is it possible that one block away is devastation, and everything was fine where we are?”
With 600 gallons of clean water in the brewery’s tanks and a small area where he text messages could be sent and received, the full scope of the disaster began to register.
“My dad lives in Texas and he sent me a text saying the entire world had its eyes on Asheville and that nobody could could get out of Buncombe County,” Garcia said. “For most of that first day, we didn’t really fathom what was going on, but as I was there getting water, Brian Brace showed up and asked what was going on.”
More regular Lookout customers soon followed.
“Four people turned into 20, and we ended up being there for four hours,” Garcia said. “When I finally left, around 3 p.m., I just told everyone I would be back tomorrow.”
The next morning, employees able to get to Lookout showed up and commiserated with regular customers.
“We had two grills going that Saturday, with everybody emptying their freezers because they didn’t know when power would be back on,” Garcia said. “We made shrimp and grits, duck, steaks, you name it.”
The site became one of many supply distribution and relief hubs to operate throughout the Swannanoa Valley in the aftermath of Helene. Garcia credits his staff’s investment in the local community for the effort.
“First responders were stationed at (Black Mountain Primary School), right across the street from us, so I ran over there and first met (Charlotte-Mecklenburg Police Major Jonathan Thomas), who was heading up the emergency management in those first few days,” Garcia recalled. “I asked for some caution tape because we were going to start serving people. Jonathan came over, helped me tape off the area, and a truck full of supplies showed up and asked where to drop it off. I told him take it to Lookout.”
Tractor-trailers filled with supplies were showing up regularly at Silverados, which organized dozens of local and visiting volunteers to create a drive-through assistance service. Nearby, in a covered seating area, a dry erase board displayed the status of ongoing rescue and outreach missions in the community.
‘I just can’t call it an anniversary’
Jason Ward, right, gives local resident Jim Ogle, who lost his instruments in Helene. Courtesy photo
Chief Penland wanted to clarify a significant detail before reflecting on the tragedy, and subsequent year.
“I just can’t call it an anniversary, that doesn’t feel right to me,” he said. “I think of the date as more of a remembrance.”
While the storm claimed lives and caused an estimated $60 billion in damage to Western N.C. communities, decimating Chimney Rock, the re-emerging business district in Swannanoa and resulting in the loss of $27 million worth of infrastructure, equipment and facilities within the Town of Black Mountain, rebuilding will likely require a lengthy process.
As a lifelong resident of Swannanoa, Penland takes comfort from his community’s ability to keep moving forward.
“When the Whitson Avenue bridge reopened, that was one of the success stories we’ve seen, and there will many more to come,” he said. “I definitely believe things will get done, but it’s going to take some time. Everyone here is doing everything they can.”
Others, like Castillo, who celebrated his birthday the day before Helene’s arrival, feel a deeper investment in the community after assisting and connecting with residents. However, the lingering impacts of documenting what is now regarded as the most destructive natural disaster in the state’s history remain.
“It took a toll, but as an outlet it felt good that that I was able to do something to give back to my community,” he said. “I tried to provide everyone with as much assistance as I could by raising awareness through my photography.”
Ward, who along with his wife partnered with the Shorts to establish the nonprofit Valley Strong Disaster Relief through what began as an unnamed operation behind Silverados, is continuing his work in the community.
“We are fully committed to several rebuild projects in the valley, and we’ve had our hands in so many things we never saw ourselves doing,” he said. “We’ve purchased two brand new manufactured homes for two families, and are seeing them through, from A-Z. People think you just buy a home and you’re all set, but they don’t, and we didn’t realize that it’s so much more than that.”
One year after he was compelled by catastrophe to invest his energy in covering and supporting the valley he grew up in, Ward is still processing his experience.
“For me, personally, I’ve been taking some time to reflect. and I’ve taken a social media break. I’ve been playing golf with my wife,” he said. “The concerts at Silverados used to occupy my spring, summer and fall, but I’m currently searching for what is the ‘new normal.’ I know that life is precious, and time is way more valuable than money or material things. Everything that you think is important, and everything that you’ve worked your entire life for can be washed away in the blink of an eye.”
The response from his hometown and the bonds he formed with storm victims and volunteers confirmed much of what Ward thought he knew about the community he grew up in.
“We’ve learned that there’s a lot more good than bad, but we’ve also been taught the lesson that vultures like to swarm on the vulnerable, and ultimately, good always wins,” he said. “What has happened in these hills over the past year has been humanity at its finest. At times it’s been hard to see, and there has been overwhelming devastation and unbearable heartache, but there has been beauty in bearing each other’s burdens. Keep on fighting.”
That unique connection between the people of the mountains was something Castillo also witnessed, firsthand, following the storm.
“One thing I learned from this is the importance of unity,” he said. “People gave everything they had, shared and helped any way they could.”
‘God showed us his provision’
While helicopters were a common sight around the Swannanoa Valley in the weeks after Helene, an unidentified crew landed in one similar to the the craft pictured above, descended on Black Mountain Home for Children in the days after the storm to drop off supplies. Photo courtesy of Rey Castillo
With much of the Swannanoa Valley isolated and without electricity in the days after Helene, storing food and water became a priority for many. On the campus of BMH, while dedicated staff scrambled behind the scenes to comfort the children in their care, the goal was to offer residents, many of whom came from unstable environments, a sense of peace.
Even as the president of the organization was keenly aware of the potential dangers that lingered in the aftermath of the storm, his faith was reaffirmed when everyone walked away, unscathed, from a massive landslide west of the main campus.
“Early that week, a few days after the storm, I spoke to the kids, and I told them I grew up with hurricanes, before asking any of them knew what was in the middle of one,” Harmon said. “A young man who just got here a couple of weeks before the storm, after more than 30 placements, said, ‘there ain’t nothing in the middle of a hurricane.’ He was right, it’s the eye of the storm, and in there is perfect peace.”
BMH staff intended to provide that feeling of calm for its residents, even while in the midst of a chaotic environment.
“We had adults to handle all that stuff, we just wanted them to be kids,” Harmon said.
While the gathering helped settle the nerves of worried children, unable to contact family members days after the disaster, Harmon made sure he was the last to receive his helping of taco salad during the dinner that followed.
“There was about a cup of meat left when I stood in front of our culinary arts instructor (Suzi Gibbs) and asked her if everyone had eaten,” he said. “Some kids had even eaten twice, and she wanted to tell me a story. From there, she explained how she was worried about the meal because we only had eight pounds of ground beef, which shouldn’t have been enough to feed 140 people.
“She said, ‘the craziest thing happened. I kept scooping this meat and it didn’t move,” Harmon said, recounting the story. “‘I’ve had some teenagers come here two or three times, and you’re the last person and I still have a cup of meat left.’ To me, that was God showing us his provision.”
Feeling a sense of ease about the home’s ability to protect and sustain the children who lived there, Harmon and his staff ushered the kids outside after dinner.
“The most beautiful double rainbow I’ve ever seen in my life was over the Valley. It was so vibrant, everyone stopped to look at it. In that moment, it felt like God was reminding us of his promise,” he said. “Then, right under that beautiful rainbow, flew a helicopter, which landed right by our pavilion, in front of our kids. They threw out five cases of water on one side, two Starlinks on the other, waved directly at our kids, and took off. To this day, I have no idea who those people were.”
For Harmon, it represented another in a series of divinely inspired occurrences during a tumultuous time.
“To me, that was God showing us his protection,” he said. “From that moment in time, just days after the storm, it felt like our kids’ anxiety lifted. That doesn’t mean it’s been easy, but to see something like that in the midst of chaos is truly special.”
The experience is one of many that inspired and encouraged Harmon and his staff in the midst of the challenges they encountered during, and long after the storm.
“What I saw during that time was people not caring about their differences; it was truly neighbor helping neighbor,” he said. “Everything can be divisive or controversial if we allow it to be, but to lift our eyes from our individual mirrors and look around and see how we can lift each other up, is one of the most powerful things we can do.”