I’m just saying this now before whatever happens, happens.
The people in the mountains had no chance this time.
There was rain, there were storms, it was pretty typical. We were looking forward to apple harvest festivals coming up. Then a few days ago, there was barely a mention of a tropical storm that might generate some more rain and wind inland. It’s only in the past 36 hours or so that we even started finding out that the mountains were set to get nailed with a historic storm, and the forecasts are rapidly getting worse. Meanwhile severe flooding and tornadoes started in the region LAST NIGHT, from this series of storms that ISN’T Helene. We still have not seen the impact of the hurricane yet – Florida and South Georgia are barely starting to see landfall as I type this. But a lot of folks are already unable to leave their homes as it is.
I keep telling myself, I wanna be wrong here, I wanna believe I’m overexaggerating. But I think this is gonna be really really severe. Get to the safest place you can and pray.
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P.S. Don’t let ANY politician in the coming weeks fill your ears with empty promises and platitudes about how resilient you are. DEMAND the support of your nation with the same goddamn tax dollars your community has generated for generations now. That’s it, that’s my entire political rant.
In the aftermath of Helene, nearly all of our communities in Spartanburg County lost power, phone and data service, and road access. We didn’t know much more about WNC at the time than the rest of the world did; Asheville and smaller towns were physically cut off, all roads in WNC were closed, and Chimney Rock had been wiped off the map in a mudslide. We went to work just to feel normal, if our jobs were open; and we spent the rest of our time charging our phones in open cafes, cursing the barely-there internet signal and anxiously awaiting word from our neighbors up north, as we assured our friends and family further off that we were fine, just bored and stinky.
In the days to follow, as we slowly regained the ability to communicate with one another, we slowly started to learn something – just something – of the extent of the devastation that the same storm had wreaked in the steeper northern terrain. It was difficult to come to terms with, to say the least – and it is strongly considered a Southerner’s duty to assist their neighbor in a time of need.
The problem was that the roads were blocked, flooded, and even washed away in some places. We physically could not reach them.
I really need ya’ll to stop treating this as a mildly interesting thought experiment to debate on, when a lot of us are still trying to find out if our loved ones are okay or where we’re gonna get our next hot meal.
And if you’re using this as an opportunity to score political zingers off of people who are dealing with a natural disaster, do me a favor first, go call up your mama and ask her where she went wrong.
If you can’t or won’t help right now, get out of the way please.
More update from Spartanburg County:
I passed by TWO more convoys of line trucks and lifts while getting supplies. One convoy was headed up towards the mountains. The other is stationing near Spartanburg.
Lights are coming back across the county and most major highways are at least partially cleared. You’ll still want to avoid driving in darkness, or use your brights and keep to the inside lanes if you absolutely have to. Some side streets are still dangerous. It can vary block by block. I think I was still driving over live wires last night.
(Every single person in the western Carolinas would rather see ANY lineman on the planet, than ANY politician right now.)
Local and WNC folks, please feel free to message me if you are in Spartanburg and need help locating stores or resources.
I’ve been receiving a ton of messages and trying to keep up with all of them, and my daily life, and getting through the day without power lol. I’m fine here! But I apologize if it’s hard to get a hold of me, promise I’m not trying to ignore anyone.
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P.S. If you cannot find fresh food at the grocery store, you MIGHT find it from a farmer on the side of the road, FYI. The guy who’s always on 221 in Roebuck was there again today. (Watch out for traffic lights out all the way down 221.)
As we began to realize both the severity and the massive scope of damage outside of Asheville, rumors started to run rampant. Some proved false – such as the church full of hundreds of people that were rescued weeks after the storm (the location changes depending on the post.) Since cell/data connection was still weak at best, popular video streaming services like TikTok and YouTube became hotbeds for viral content from “digital creators” who weren’t actually present on the ground in the affected areas.
Meanwhile – whether it was due to the active disaster conditions, or the ongoing election cycle – journalists were scarcely present across WNC, especially in rural areas far from the main interstates, which had been cleared within days of the storm (as best as could possibly be done in that timeframe.) This created an information void in the news media, which further fueled the misinformation fire.
Unfortunately, some of the horrifying details of what happened up in the mountains turned out to be true. It defied imagination.
Last thing I’m gonna say. And then by God I do need some sleep…
This post does an excellent job of telling you all what I couldn’t.
That if you aren’t hearing directly from people on the ground in this region, you aren’t hearing the true horror of what happened that morning. And the body count is going to be so much higher than anyone is prepared for. I’ve been plugged into sharing information because if I sit here in it, I just… cry.
Please send any support you can.
This is my favorite part of the world. This is the most beautiful place in the world. Oh, God… the scars will run so deep.
I made my first supply run to Rutherford County today up 221.
Good news is the highway is pretty clear, but I wouldn’t risk it at night, and definitely more work needs to be done before it’s truly safe.
Roll your windows up before you cross the state line and leave them rolled up for several miles at least.
This part is going to be really, really gnarly. You don’t have to keep reading, but I still feel like it’s important to warn my own people downstream.
The Broad River smells like bodies.
I looked it up – for my own sake – seems like dead bodies are not *supposed* to create a health hazard in the floodwaters, as long as we don’t go playing in it or drinking it.
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You know, I did follow the Helene coverage all the way up to the f’ing weather radar as it approached, and I never though I’d be writing this status a week later while listening to sirens scream past for the fourth time since I got home two hours ago.
Nothing is okay right now. Everything else I’ve seen today, I’m still processing before I write it all down. DO NOT show up in WNC for any reason except to HELP. 
I believe there are two goals right now that are equally important for the immediate survival of WNC communities:
1. Restore infrastructure so it’s possible to reach everyone again.
2. Get essential supplies to those who cannot make it to a location to get them themselves.
And I have personally watched the crews, convoys, helicopters, headed up that way to make those goals happen. The speed they are moving at is INCREDIBLE. There is just such a massive, unimaginable amount of damage over such a widespread area… it’s as if an explosion hit WNC and ricocheted across every neighboring state.
That’s a lot of f’ing people across a massive, remote region. I’m not talking 100 people, I’m talking 100 TOWNS. These communities are completely inaccessible due to damaged roads that can’t even take a car right now without giving way, let alone trucks and convoys.
The first map below shows the roads, towns, and elevation in the mountains from the Great Smoky Mtns to Rutherford County. The second is a flat road map showing more land, including east TN and southwest VA. That STILL does not cover all of the seriously affected disaster areas. I’ve had some folks say “I need support for my friend, he’s in WNC -” these communities are hours apart from each other when the roads are even passable. Your friend’s situation might be very different depending on their actual location. There are 24 counties in western NC ALONE, and every single one has communities in need of immediate assistance.
The answer is to supply chain it. Here’s how it’s working:
Entire fleets of line trucks are fixing one area and immediately moving up to the next. Other workers are working around the clock just to keep them fed, locate problem sites to send crews to, or handle reports from those of us who have had fires and such from the electrical lines. (I credit a Duke Energy customer service rep with saving my flooded neighborhood from an electrical fire when 911 couldn’t.) The best thing anyone can do for their efforts is simply to stay out of their way and drive safely.
Large donation sites around the Carolinas and elsewhere are being moved by the freightload into WNC via air and newly repaired highways. (These groups really need monetary donations right now to keep up with the amount of fuel being used, too.) Locals who know the area REALLY F’ING WELL are usually the ones moving supplies to smaller, less accessible locations in smaller vehicles. If you got an off-road vehicle up there it is truly a moment to shine. I’ve missed the Jeep so much this week. I miss my Chevy Colorado.
NC and SC have NEVER been this badly damaged by a natural disaster in our lifetimes… and I’ve seen a lot of damage from a lot of storms, floods, fires. If you’ve seen this before on the coast, no, no you really haven’t. The vast majority of ya’ll have never seen or driven roads in such bad condition, so don’t f’ing risk it if you don’t already know the roads well. REALLY do not risk it at night. That’s not safe in the mountains in the best of conditions. Focus instead on getting supplies to people who can and will get it the last mile.
The entire nation NEEDS to know what happened here. You all need to know. This is SO much worse than just a bad storm.
[photos by The Homie Criket Media]
The lithium mine was never in Chimney Rock/Lake Lure. It’s in Kings Mountain, 80 miles away.
I know the conspiracy theories are more FUN than the updates from people on the ground.
I am begging you to stop sharing rumors from people who obviously don’t even know this area at all.
ETA: They do NOT build mines underneath lakes in flood zones… FFS.
ETAA: If you want to help Rutherford County and other stranded areas, here’s a supply drop location:
Fowler’s Resale Thrift Store
369 E Main St, Spindale, NC
I’m just gonna go ahead and tell my own Helene story before my brain breaks any further.
I live in Spartanburg, South Carolina, a beautiful city I love very much, nestled in the bosom of the Appalachian foothills.
When I was in college, I used to book and promote concerts in both Spartanburg and Charlotte, as well as Greenville SC, which are adjacent markets. Many, many of the artists I booked in Spartanburg came down from Asheville and WNC in general. Since most musicians in the city are food/bev or customer service workers, and it’s a pricey city with lots of competition for real estate, they tend to live in the surrounding towns around Asheville. And you should see them. Each of those tiny communities across WNC is so remarkably beautiful, unique, proud of its history, full of vibrant people and art and workmanship and traditions, just as all of Appalachia is if you take the time to truly explore.
I love the
It hurts to type
I love the land I live in so, so much, and everything about it, that back during the pandemic – and one of the hardest periods of my life, physically and mentally – I began to write a DnD campaign centered on a world based on WNC, SC, and the surrounding lands. In fact, I built the world first, knowing the story would be inspired later by it. And yes, the story came to life, in spurts and fits as art does and will.
I was inspired by the Dark Corner – the northwest region of South Carolina that resisted seceeding from the union, and assisted escaped slaves in making their way to freedom. The Quilt Stars you see on houses and barns along Highway 11, from Landrum to Pickens, were signs interpreted by escapees to find safe haven or avoid danger. They were later used by hobos coming up the Saluda Grade as well.
And God, I was inspired by a land they call Valhalla. The Saluda Grade is a steep slope through a windy mountain passage, Spartanburg Highway between Saluda and Tryon, along the Pacolet River and its stunning waterfalls. It was once the steepest and most dangerous railroad in America, connecting Asheville to Spartanburg, and even its construction was marred by tragedies and injustices. The railroad is now forever closed, and it is the most beautiful drive I have ever taken anywhere. I took it any time I could – but never at night – and I have taken many photos at the bridge over the falls. I don’t know if that bridge stands anymore. The road is completely closed off, and I’m certain it can’t be safe to attempt in a car. I’m not certain the road even exists anymore either.
And I was inspired by Lake Lure. There is this beautiful, tiny mountain lake resort village, formed by a dam where several rivers intersect in the valley. As you wind past Ingles up Highway 9, the mountains just peak a bit to give you a glimpse of the lake, before you pass another turn and the emerald curtains fully reveal the destination you’ve driven all that way for. The entire town exists along one narrow road that circles precariously along the cliff edges, snaking around lake homes on wooden stilts next to bouncing boats and patches of daylilies. Every restaurant, ice cream shack, and walking trail features stunning views of the lake and the mountains, especially the striking bald face of Chimney Rock. In those parts of the western NC mountains where no vegetation grows, for reasons even researchers cannot puzzle out, the Cherokee used to hold sacred rituals – in some places, they say you can still hear their songs on the night breeze. Their wisdom has been passed down to the people of this land, the same land that was taken from them, yet it is known to all that their spirits and traditions endure forever in the world’s oldest mountains.
I was hired over the summer to work at Fae Nectar. While I was working on my tabletop game, my favorite place without a doubt was sitting along the Broad River, staring up at the mountains, or strolling along the Lake Lure Flowering Bridge taking photos. Circumstances changed and I ended up taking a different job instead. But as for my own project, I had decided to center it on a little village I had created called Dragonlake Village. It was based on Lake Lure, Chimney Rock, East Flat Rock, Saluda, Tryon, Columbus, just how many of these places I love could I fit?? I was so set on putting the region itself into the game, even the NPCs are named after the roads. Peniel Arledge, the unicorn trainer. Otis Buckeye, the general store owner. The Flowering Bridge inspired a whole secret garden guild, which, it basically… I figured it was corny, but easier than coming up with new names, I guess…
And yes, of course, I put Spartanburg in there too. Because I love my city so much. I love the people here, I love the local businesses, I love the walking trail along Lawsons Fork Creek, which I also live just alongside, and even the animals that live here. I’ve always said the owls, groundhogs, snakes, cranes, and even that mean ol stray cat are my neighbors, too. And every time I get cabin fever and feel the itch to get out of town – or need to run an errand in NC, which is equally likely – I head up to Polk or Rutherford Counties usually. It’s become the place I just want to go when I’m stressed or upset, like a hand woven blanket, because it became so special to me during a very hard time in my life. And my roots run deep into Appalachia, and into the Carolinas; my great-great-uncle Bumby was part of the very first graduating class at the Cradle of Forestry, and applied that knowledge both to saving forest groves, and storing lumber for aircrafts during World War 1.
We are ONE community regardless of the state line. The store shelves in Tryon and Saluda are lined with local products from Spartanburg County, and the Hub City Farmers’ Market bustles every Saturday morning with farmers and craftsfolk from up in the mountains.
I’ve told my friends for years that these mountains call you and then they don’t let go, and they called me. I couldn’t bear to leave and now I know I never will. I still love you all so much.
I want you all to know and remember what these places were, and have hope in your hearts for what they will be again.
I can’t reach them anymore right now.
Nothing is stopping me but the land itself, the land I love.
I’m going to make a separate post to talk about the storm, and what it was like for us here in Spartanburg when the vortex hit.
Thank you for taking the time to read this.
This was my experience when Helene hit Western Carolina. Before, during, and after the vortex passed over my home at the bottom of the mountains.
You may not want to read it, and you certainly don’t have to.
But it is so important that the country knows what truly happened here.
Two days before Helene hit, the mountains were already flooding. And we heard she was just one more tropical storm we would be taking some wind and rain from.
We’d been receiving days’ worth of rain without much break, saturating the ground and swelling most rivers in the region to record highs for the time of year. Tree roots slipped through the cracks of eroded cliffsides and crashed to the ground below. EF1 tornadoes hit both Greenville and East Flat Rock in the days before Helene. Those are not even close locations.
Wednesday night, Biltmore Village in Asheville was underwater from flooding by the Swannanoa River. As downtowns flooded and power lines failed, the forecast for Helene changed.
Thursday around 1 am, I heard the morning birds chirp outside, every time it started to rain on and off. It was the first real red alarm I personally had. Those birds do not chirp until at the very least, 4 or 5 am. I think they were detecting something in the air pressure with the storm still more than 12 hours away from making landfall in Florida. The forecasts and spaghetti models still showed Helene heading west towards Kentucky. I worried for Westminster and Walhalla in SC. I worried for the additional rain we would take on 100% totally saturated ground.
Thursday morning, the dam at Lake Lure was at 9 feet and rising, generating local headlines and flood watches. Downtown Hendersonville was a lake at Spartanburg Highway, completely impassable. People thought Helene had already arrived, especially if their power had gone out and/or they didn’t have much cell service where they were.
I was working from home that day. The creek behind my home had swelled to a raging river that threatened to overflow its banks. I told my neighbor it would; she gave me a strange look. I could see the water running off the ground in sheets. I called my partner and was fairly insistent he needed to come home before the flooding got worse here. I moved my car to the other side of the parking lot and took out anything I considered valuable, but I left my tiny Raidho charm. I spent the rest of the day taking things off of the porch.
As the waters streamed down all those beautiful rocky waterfalls we love in the mountains, the cliffs crumbled. And the forecast for Helene changed.
I need you to understand how pitch black the mountains are at night, at even the best of times – and even when the lights are on.
Thursday night, the Lake Lure dam had risen from 9 to 27 feet, according to the reporters. Downwater flood alarms were blaring at my some of my closest friends that it was no longer safe to be where they were. I told people to get to the safest place they could and pray, just as Helene was making landfall in Big Bend, Florida. The wind had not picked up yet – just constant, unending rain. I relied on my windchimes to tell me when the hurricane had arrived.
…At some point, I slept.
I woke around 1 am. The storm was passing over Augusta. I found USGS water monitoring sites upstream and downstream of me, which were reporting incremental data every hour. Every single river I found in WNC by that time was flowing at record highs for the time of year. Every. Single. One.
At 2:30 am the huge, beautiful oak and pine trees all around me began to snap. Most of these were located along Lawsons Fork Creek and battered by floodwaters.
At 3 am I believed the vortex was heading straight for us in Spartanburg, looking at the radar.
By 3:30 am I was certain.
I don’t remember what time the warnings came to evacuate Lake Lure and the entire Swannanoa River basin, running along Highway 64. There is only one tiny, precarious, two-lane road that circles the cliffsides around the lake, stretching east and west along 64, and south along 9. I remember initially typing out a warning for people to avoid Highway 9 because the downstream flooding. Then I checked Google Maps. Highway 9 was the only way out of the town, attempting an hour-long journey along lakes and sprawling farmland all the way to Spartanburg. I do not know how many people attempted to escape or if they made it out.
Meanwhile, I took the rest of everything off my porch. By 4 am my partner woke up to me wrestling with the wind to haul a bicycle inside. I got almost everything in but the 200-pound rocking chair, and a set of windchimes I couldn’t safely reach due to the winds picking up. The sound of trees snapping became more frequent. The wind pulled my storm door off the track at some point.
Starting about 5:15 to 5:30 am last Friday, Helene was the most violent storm I ever lived through.
The river raged at our backs and nipped at the heels of our buildings’ lower levels as the water ran down in sheets, and the winds in the distance looked like tornado strength to me, though I never witnessed a funnel cloud. The tornado sirens went off at some point. And somehow, for maybe an hour or two, I slept.
At 7:15 I woke up just before the power went out. I texted my boss that unfortunately I wouldn’t be making it into work anyway, as I could hear the river from my bed. She begged me not to even attempt it. The news later showed a car being rescued off the bridge that leads to my job. I’m not sure at what point our roads were blocked by the falling trees.
Somehow I slept again. I asked my partner to wake me up if anything crazy happened. I’d done all I could by that point. When I woke, it was a beautiful early autumn day, and all hell had broken lose in Spartanburg.
Before we lost most, thankfully not all, data and cellular communications, we had two last warnings:
1. The Lake Lure dam failure was imminent.
2. 911 communications were down.
The way Lawsons Fork Creek was flooding, I falsely believed the dam had already failed. I also believed floodwaters from the mountains would be coming later to swell the river even further. In reality, we were looking at those mountain floodwaters – especially from Valhalla and the Saluda Gorge – and thank God Almighty the Lake Lure dam held despite predictions, sparing the residents downstream.
Spartanburg was not in good shape.
Most power was out. Most roads were blocked. It took them hours to clear ours. It is a priority road. People immediately flocked to damaged streets with power lines dangling over them, driving underneath precariously perched poles (East Main Street 
) to run on groceries and gasoline at the only functioning businesses for miles. I walked the neighborhood with a few neighbors and we got snacks at the corner store, which deserves a medal for their efforts by the way. We gawker at the flooding river. The Greenway was completely gone, brown waters gurgling over the pedestrian bridge that normally sits 20 feet above them. The neighboring apartment complex had flooded buildings.
When they attempted to restore power to our lines, they short circuited in multiple locations next to the river, setting trees on fire behind them. It took me 4 tries to reach 911 on the 864 number they were using. By that time I was running up the hill towards Main Street to flag down help.
The dispatcher mocked me instead of sending help, a truly jarring experience as a security guard who’s been involved in tons of 911 calls. I hung up, called back, and got the same dispatcher, who never did send help. Another neighbor managed to reach a different dispatcher. The fire truck came, left with the wires still on fire, and said it was Duke’s problem. I fought with the limited data and cellular reception to find a Duke customer service number, and as the wires continued to ignite in front of my neighborhood, I managed to put in a 911 urgent service ticket. Like corporate IT. Their system was too backlogged to generate an update, but at some point, the sparks stopped, and I believe they finally turned off electricity to those cables.
When I couldn’t get an update, I decided to brave the roads to reach the police station. Poles at 45 degree angles hanging above the road. A car swerved impatiently around me, nearly plowing into a live wire that was dangling in the middle of St John Street. Intersections were a free-for-all. The police station was locked, and although an officer saw me in front of the building and pulled around back, he did not approach me and eventually I just gave up, went home, prayed about it.
About WNC, initially, we only knew two things:
1. ALL roads in WNC were now closed.
2. Chimney Rock no longer stood.
It was unthinkable, the entire village that sits along 64 just below Lake Lure had been taken out by a massive landslide. 100% of buildings were destroyed or severely damaged. Every business was lost, every one of them focused on tourism.
Hearing about the Lake Lure Flowering Bridge was the first time I cried. Now I wonder if the bridge took impact that otherwise would have caused the Lake Lure dam to fail. The Flowering Bridge saved many, many lives and was sacrificed in the process. But I have learned that every time a tree falls, something new will grow in its place.
For days, we had very little power anywhere in the neighborhood, and we’re extremely lucky it was close by at all. Roads were too dangerous to attempt unless it was imperative. We all got used to driving over and under live wires, through paths carved out in fallen tree trunks, and judging each other’s intentions at traffic intersections. We charged our phones in cafes while cursing the cell service.
And then around Monday, I think, as some of us were headed to our jobs just to feel halfway normal, we started to see the updates from our friends I Asheville as they regained data communication via satellites. They were cries for help, accompanied by the most drastic flooding we’d ever imagined in Asheville. Some of our friends had not had power or water in 6-8 days.
Every single person I know in the Upstate has some kind of deep ties to the mountains. And we are a people who value helping your neighbor, helping one another, and there is no possible way we could leave our loved ones stranded in such desperate conditions.
But we couldn’t reach them.
And as more and more photos and posts trickled in, the true horror of what had happened in the mountains began to unfold for each of us.
–
Please protect yourself before you read what I’m going to tell you. ESPECIALLY if you are from this region and you love this community like I do.
–
This should be considered not just a mass casualty, but a mass mass casualty incident.
When the rivers flooded, and the highways were washed out, people were simply trapped. Many on their roofs. Entire communities of homes were ripped away by the flooding. Their houses were completely submerged by 28 FEET of water in some places, carrying homes off of their foundations and dragging the structures for miles down what was usually a gentle current.
The lists of missing people feature the names of entire families, and there are far, far more than a few hundred that we have lost here. Those numbers are being severely underreported by their county Sheriffs. I see the updates every day on ABC13, the local WNC news.
In some parts of WNC, bodies have piled up at the bottoms of cliffs. They have also been found in trees, carried high above the ground by the flooding. And I have smelled the death from the Broad River when they finally drained the Lake Lure dam days later. The Sheriffs know. Their 911 operators definitely know. They’ve told residents they are overwhelmed with taking care of the living, and… there are just too many of those reports to handle in meantime, apparently.
I have learned, and it is awful to come to terms with, that it is standard protocol in natural disasters to focus efforts on the living instead of digging mass graves. Because the decay won’t create an additional biohazard. The water is already clearly not drinkable. I have personal convictions that make this so hard to come to terms with, but I also believe the spirits of the lost will want us to keep their communities alive with every effort we can provide. And every time a tree falls, something new grows in its place…
And as the people around me here in the Upstate have each gradually become aware of the true scope of the tragedy that took place on the morning of Friday, September 27, in the most beautiful place in the world, we have made the unspoken agreement to band together for our neighbors up north. Whether it’s been evacuating loved ones, cutting down trees with chainsaws, riding from holler to holler on dirt bike to check on residents, or moving supplies up to communities that have lost… everything. And experienced hell beyond what we can ever comprehend.
This is very hard to be involved in. I’ve been in constant tears, mood swings, unable to sleep or eat, and I’m not even in the trenches like they are. But everyone who knows, simply cannot turn away from people in the greatest need. Many highways are completely inaccessible, many infrastructure systems are completely demolished. The immediate need is to locate stranded survivors, and either get them out or get them resources before the cold sets in. There is also going to be an ongoing need throughout the holidays and the winter for clean water, food, clothing, PPE, and… everything. When I ask up there what is needed I am told “Everything.”
Volunteers and FEMA MUST work together somehow to keep these people alive over the winter.
And if all you’re doing is holding it down at home for your people – or for yourself – you are doing so much good, and you should be so proud, and continue to hold it down. If you aren’t, reach out to somebody, because the question on everyone’s lips around here is “How can I help?”
If you are able to help provide resources to the people of the Western Carolinas, by God, please do. I will never ask you for anything more important in my life.
I never knew so many of my neighbors were heroes.
Thank you for reading, God bless all ya’ll, and stay safe always. 
I hate doing this.
I am not physically or mentally in a position right now to make today’s supply run like I wanted to. I’m risking an accident if I run it right now. I will probably have to do this tomorrow. I need to eat and sleep and not risk an accident. We can’t afford to waste emergency resources or block a road.
I’m going to try again tomorrow.
And that was just the first week after the storm.
It was around this time we got power back at home.
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