That’s how Keri Boer described Sept. 26, the day the rains began falling on her Black Mountain, North Carolina, home.

Boer, a 1989 Fort Dodge Senior High graduate, has lived in Black Mountain since 2002 and works as the director of college guidance at Asheville Christian Academy, a K-12 school in Swannanoa, about a 10-minute drive from her home. Located in the western mountainous region of North Carolina, the Appalachian Mountains run through the area.

On that Wednesday, the school announced school would be closed Thursday due to the amount of rain expected, which Boer said “was shocking.” They had never canceled for rain.

On Thursday, the school canceled Friday classes because Hurricane Helene was coming.

-Submitted photo
The town of Swannanoa, North Carolina, located about 10 minutes west of Black Mountain where Fort Dodge native Keri Boer lives, was decimated by Hurricane Helene in late September. Millions of people in a six-state region were affected by the hurricane, which killed more than 230 people.

Area residents are familiar with hurricanes. In 2004, Boer said two hurricanes affected the area — one knocked out water for a few days; another knocked out power. In advance of Helene, many thought the impact would be similar.

“So what we normally do when we get these warnings is, you buy a few gallons of water,” Boer said. “I filled a five-gallon bucket with water for flushing the toilet. Other people filled a bathtub … I didn’t even think of that.”

She also charged some portable chargers for her phone, downloaded some work-related items, and took stock of food. “But again, I didn’t think the power would be out that long … So that’s how I prepared.”

A different kind of storm

Hunkered down inside her home with her dog, Sammy, a bichon-frise poodle mix, Boer said Helene didn’t seem any worse than any other storm. It rained steadily Thursday and Friday, with more than 20 inches falling over the course of two days: “It didn’t seem like sheets of rain to me.”

-Submitted photo
This business in Black Mountain, North Carolina, was ravaged by the river as it flowed through the building from the back to the front, shattering windows and pushing out doors. "It looked like a bomb had gone off," said Keri Boer, a Fort Dodge native who lives in Black Mountain.

Boer’s home is well-located on top of a hill; behind the home the ground is flat.

“What that means is, there are no mud slides or rain gushing (toward the house),” Boer said. “While it was raining, when I looked out, the drain pipes couldn’t handle all of (the water) and I could see it whooshing down my driveway,” she said. However, the water drainage ditch at the end of her driveway seemed to be handling the overflow.

Then came the blackout.

“We lost power and water very early on Friday before we woke up,” Boer said.

With flashlight in hand, she tried to carry on as normal. Soon cell service went out, which Boer said was unusual — even in a hurricane. “There was really no way to contact anyone.”

-Submitted photo
This is the road Keri Boer normally takes to work in Black Mountain, North Carolina. Here it drops away to nothing where the river tore out the bridge and everything nearby in its path. Trees like the one on the left side of the picture continue to fall in North Carolina in the aftermath of Hurricane Helene.

The best laid plans

The weekend the hurricane hit, Boer was set to return to Fort Dodge to help her mother, Arlene McColley, move to western North Carolina.

“I was still planning to do all that because I had no communication and didn’t know what was going on,” Boer said.

The rains finally stopped around 2 p.m. Friday. Thinking the worst had passed, Boer set out to drop her dog off at the pet sitter as arranged, with plans to fly back to Iowa early Saturday morning from Asheville.

That’s when she first realized things were amiss.

“As I was driving (Sammy) there, I could see some of the destruction,” Boer said. “The bridge on the road I normally take was gone, and the road was gone too … Everything where the river goes underneath (the road) was gone.”

Forced to stop and turn around, Boer also noticed damage to a nearby shopping area.

“It looked like a bomb had gone off,” she said. “You could tell which way the river was flowing because it had blown forward … Things were shattered because the river overflowed the banks so far that it just flowed through the whole building and blew everything out. So that was my first indicator that this was bigger than I thought.”

Still determined to get to her pet sitter, she continued on, driving around a car that had been shoved into the road, bent up.

There was a lot of mud — and darkness, Boer said. Without power, shops were closed; street lights and stop lights were out. But the main highway was open.

“There was destruction on every side,” Boer said. “You could see lots of debris — giant tree branches, so you could tell the (Swannanoa) river had gone through there.”

Finally she reached her pet sitter.

“So I just want to talk to another human being at this point,” she said.

Her pet sitter informed her, “We don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t think you are probably leaving town.”

Finally able to get internet access, Boer checked on her flight. Indeed it had been canceled. Still thinking the situation was temporary, she used an app to move her flight back one day and returned home.

Stuck on the mountain

On a normal Saturday, Boer talks with her daughter Emily on WhatsApp. A sophomore at Covenant College, Emily is studying abroad in France this semester.

In order to keep that appointment, Boer drove to a spot with internet access.

“So as we’re on the app; she’s looking up news. I found out that I was actually stranded on our mountain because all of the interstates in every direction were closed — both directions. Everywhere.”

Then she began to receive warnings on her phone: “All roads in western North Carolina are considered closed. Do not drive anywhere. Stay home.”

She said it reminded her of sheltering in place during COVID, only without water, power or internet.

“Between the two of us, the magnitude was finally hitting me of, ‘I’m stuck here.’ I’ve never been stuck on the mountain where I couldn’t get down. … And I’m thinking, the 3 gallons of water I bought aren’t going to last forever, and nobody could get supplies to us because we couldn’t leave and they couldn’t come.

“So then it was starting to feel very isolating, and I live alone.”

A relatively new widow, Keri’s husband, Rob, passed away two years ago. Things he would normally help with, she now had to handle alone.

Taking a mental inventory of food and supplies, Boer realized, “I probably hadn’t prepared as much as was needed.”

‘I must leave’

On Sunday, Boer and her daughter talked again via WhatsApp. By then, she had begun to hear reports of people whose homes had floated away, of people in trees awaiting rescue, of people isolated because the only road in or out of their neighborhood was washed away; reports of deaths were coming in.

“I’m talking to my daughter, looking at the giant hole in the ground in front of me that used to be a road, a bridge, and I’m just bawling; I’m just overwhelmed. … As I’m getting more news, I can’t process what is happening. Really unbelievable devastation, and really just wanted to get out of there.”

Boer now knew this wasn’t a short-term situation or the “localized” storm she had expected; it was the entire region affecting millions of people.

“There is no way for them to tell us when any of these services are going to come back and you could see why, because as you’re looking at these holes in the ground, you could see the water pipes chopped in half and you see all of the power lines pushed over and sitting in water.”

Then Boer received a new notification.

“Instead of shelter in place, it says, ‘If there is any way for you to evacuate, get out. Supplies of everything are low. If you have gas and have a place to go, (then leave).’ And luckily I had gas,” she said.

Immediately, Boer went into high gear. She changed her flight from Asheville — one of the hardest hit areas — to Charlotte and found a hotel there. Her daughter helped her check DOT maps for open roads as they plotted a route.

In an instant, it went from, “I’m stuck here” to “I must leave,” Boer said. It was “very panic mode.”

Still not thinking long term, Boer used the same bag she had packed for her original trip but threw in a few extra medications. Her pet sitter agreed to take her dog, and she gave much of her remaining food to a friend. She delayed her mother’s move. “Two weeks should do it,” she thought.

The drive to Charlotte was nerve-wracking. By now, a curfew was in place from 7 p.m. to 7 a.m., so getting there before dark became a priority.

“I was so tense driving down the mountain,” Boer said. “I was so alert for, ‘Is the road really open? … At any moment waiting for the bottom, literally, to drop out. But the road stayed open.”

She had to take several alternate routes, trying different roads she heard were open, and finally arrived safely.

“Entering South Carolina where there was power was unbelievable … even after a couple of days (without power), that was astounding.”

At last able to communicate, Boer said her phone “blew up” with text messages from family and friends wondering if she was alive and OK.

Amazingly, Boer said, her flight left on time.

“I escaped and flew here without any delays,” she said. “Everything seems normal. But then I feel guilty because I had left all these people that didn’t have all these wonderful amazing blessings that I have again.”

Uncertain future

Since arriving home, Boer describes herself as “comfortably stranded.” She keeps tabs on the progress in her Black Mountain neighborhood, her church in Montreat and the school in Swannanoa. Her pastor sends frequent updates as does her school.

Boer said all staff, students and their families at Asheville Christian Academy have been accounted for. However, the school facilities and grounds were extensively damaged by flood waters. Restoration and construction projects are already underway.

An update from the administration depicts the dire situation:

“The significant amount of debris across the entire campus, including automobiles, remnants of houses, dangerous piles of wood, glass, metal and other material pose a momentous safety hazard and this debris literally spans from the river up to the actual buildings. Moreover, search and rescue task force teams are constantly on the property searching for missing individuals. Sadly, human remains have been discovered and we expect that to continue.”

The school is planning to start classes on Oct. 21 with a combination of remote and in-person learning at another location.

Boer finds the stories of neighbor helping neighbor encouraging. She has friends who have stayed even though they could have evacuated. One is a nurse who checks daily on elderly neighbors.

Another friend lives in a neighborhood with no way out. “Their neighborhood has pulled together. … Sharing is happening. Somebody has a generator and somebody has a grill and somebody has a tub of water.”

Boer said her home survived unscathed, and as of this week, power has returned. But she still doesn’t know when she’ll be able to return.

“It’s very strange to be here where life seems pretty normal,” she said. “My life feels very on hold because I have no idea when I can go back and really no idea when things will feel normal or stable.

“I’m super grateful at the same time that I’m super grieving, just all the losses for me, but also for other people, so much damage. I’m still very anxious, unsettled.”

Watching the news stirs up too many emotions, so Boer chooses not to. “I’m so tired. I cry every day even though I’m safe and comfortable. I can’t imagine being there.”

How you can help

The American Red Cross and

The Salvation Army are accepting donations to help the victims of hurricanes Helene and Milton. Here’s how to donate:

American Red Cross

• Go to redcross.org

• Send checks to: American Red Cross, P.O. Box 37839, Boone, IA 50037-0839

• Call 1-800-435-7669

The Salvation Army

• Go to disaster.salvationarmyusa.org

• Send checks to The Salvation Army — Disaster Relief, P.O. Box 1959, Atlnat, GA 30301

• Call 1-800-725-2769