Water–No Water

Week One – The most extraordinary weather

=================== & ===================

Employing a shop vac is an efficient way to suck up water where it’s not wanted. In the case of the floating Hobbit House, our basement seemed to be attracting water molecules like bees to nectar. It was coming down heavily from the sky and saturating the back yard, where the door into our basement resides. There’s a small hole in the landing at the bottom of the steps. Usually, any water that accummulates there runs off down that hole into the dirt below. Except for those times when there’s nowhere to run off to. No elopement to Vegas, no clandestine meet up in Myrtle Beach. After hours of torrential rainfall, the water instead came UP from that hole and leached through the doorway, slowly making it’s way further and further into our basement.

A full-scale assault on this intruder kept my husband busy for three days with the shop vac (two days prior to and one day of the hurricane). Sucking up water, collecting it into the vac, then pouring it out into the driveway where it could find its way to the street. I kept meals coming and provided every towel, washcloth, blanket, rug and rag to sop up whatever was left. Water is no easy opponent. It keeps on coming, drawing itself up into whatever pitiful ramparts one can erect in defense. I kept a vigil ringing out the towels, etc, throwing them into the washing machine and dryer until finally, I just heaved them as quickly as I could straight from the floor into the spin-only cycle and then prayerfully into the dryer. The battle came to a complete halt when the power went out on the third day of the water war. We scrambled to stuff every water absorbant item in our house into the corners where seepage kept insisting on entering. Then we moved as much of our basement-dwelling stuff off the floor as possible. We located one of our camp stoves and brought it upstairs along with the fuel to celebrate our complete surrender to the inevitable. Tea and couscous with beans was true hurricane fare and eventually became our regular repast for the week.

Then, miraculously, the sun came out as Helene took off for other parts. Thankfully, there’s a drain set into the laundry room floor in the basement. After lunch, we began sweeping the deepest puddles toward that low spot. It took hours. I gathered up all the soppy seepage preventers and waited for my guy to string up a clothes line. Most of that stuff dried in three days–of course, it rained the next day, so some of it got wet again. We went to bed, happy that the precipitation was minimal and we shortly would be water-free. Warning: Be careful what you wish for.

I woke early the next day and turned on the faucet in the bathroom to the receipt of…air. We had no running water. This was the moment we were catapulted into another crisis. Since the electricity was still out, we cranked up our handy portable radio (having lived in Houston, this was not our first hurricane). My heart did an alarming thump when we listened to the official area briefing and found out the entire municipal water system had been destroyed. We learned a lot about water that day: Where it went waywardly to wreak havoc upon much of the Western North Carolina (WNC) community, how lots of rain hit the waterways up in the higher elevations and roared down the rivers at an alarming velocity, taking everything in its path and just how much we depended on our resevoir and treatment plant to provide us with this life-sustaining substance. I didn’t want to say out loud that we were pretty much fucked, but that’s exactly how I felt in that moment.

Because we were experienced hurricane victims (42 years on the Texas Gulf coast), we had prudently put up some water in beer brewing vessels, pitchers, various canning jars and empty jugs prior to the deluge. In our Houston past we’ve dealt with rising water and inability to flush our toilets due to the sewer plant itself being under water. We have had to evacuate our home in our neighborhood next to the bayou. I have experienced having ten minutes to decide what to take and what to leave behind. This was nothing like that. Once the basement cleared, we found our abode still standing unharmed by wind or flood waters. We simply had no source for fresh water–no way to flush, once again. I imagined all those folks who watched their cars and houses and loved ones wash away downstream and compared their losses to mine. There was no comparison, so I settled into a wait and see attitude before making a practical plan.

That day all the stores were still closed. Everything was closed. No electricity, no water, no information on how to cope with this dilemna. We walked our dog that sunny afternoon. Many folks were out on their front porches, talking about our predicament. One neighbor offered his solar power capacity to charge our phones. No one could get a signal that first day, but we were ready for when that happened. Those with gas stoves offered their kitchens for cooking meals. One neighbor had a basement full of water with no means for draining it since his sump pump was electric powered. Our solar hero hooked up the pump to his electricity and ready toilet-flushing water became available to anyone with a bucket. My husband filled our recycling bin, bucket and cooler with it. Everyone had flushing water for a few days…if we allowed only two flushes per day.

We fired up our camp stove and poured some of our clean water into the only pot that fit on the stove. We hosted an informational update that afternoon on our front porch with the help of our crank up radio, offered for whoever wanted to hear the county update on the regional situation. It was dismal. Hearing this news, in the company of others in the same situation, bolstered our resolve. We would get through this together. The next couple of days greeted us with the news that the fire station just up the road was a hot spot for getting the phone to connect to the wider world. We walked up to give it a try. There were a lot of other people scattered around the fire station and the library next door. We texted or called our loved ones to let them know we were ok. Naturally the national news was showing all the devastation and not so much the unscathed areas of town, causing an increase of worry for our far away family and friends.

One of our neighbors announced she was on her way to a friend who had well water. She offered to fill any vessels we had with that wondrously free and clear water. We got about seven more gallons to add to our dwindling stash. My heart was able to unclench a bit after that windfall. But cooking and cleaning up became a nightmare. I could not wash my hands properly. My usually clean and tidy kitchen was sporting borderline crack house standards. I futilely kept piling my dirty dishes into the dishwasher hoping for some sort of water miracle. The disaster teams were working diligently in those areas hardest hit. And, contrary to trouble makers who love to spread the hate, FEMA had boots on the groumd early on, providing financial assistance to anyone who needed it. Help was everywhere, even in our own neighborhood.

Two days after the hurricane, we saw a Duke Energy truck on our streets. One worker got out and removed a tree limb from the power line. This caused much excitement in me. I predicted to my guy that we would get our electrical power back soon as there seemed to be no real damage to the lines in our neighborhood. Lots of other energy provider teams from all over the country were working on getting the WNC area back into the 21st century. And, lo…the lights came back on the next afternoon. We also got news that places downtown were opening up as they also had power. We drove to my favorite grocery, the French Broad Food Co-op, where we waited in line for 45 minutes to get in and shop for newly arrived fresh produce. Although we were delighted, this trip uncovered another dilemna. No internet meant cash-only sales. Thankfully, we had enough. We sought out the Wells Fargo ATM, but it was not working. Cash deficit became a problem for many people who were caught up short.

During our little foray into town, we were pleasantly surprised by the number of people out on the street cooking up meals for anyone who wanted one. Folks were passing out bottles of drinking water and offering comfort to those in need. I could only think how amazing the people of Asheville were. Everyone was passing along information as well: where to get water, where to go to apply for FEMA assistance, what stores were open, what ATM machines had cash available. We met some wonderful people just waiting in line for the store to open. Stories both happy and sad were shared while standing on the sidewalk hoping to take home some fresh food and water.

This was also true in our part of town. We walked to the fire station and passed stores, a brewery and a couple restaurants cooking up hot meals and offering notice boards to provide us all with information. A couple of shower and laundry facilities were erected in nearby parking lots. Our own neighbors gathered together to share information and resources. We met up with neighbors we knew and some we were just meeting for the first time. It felt good to have that cohesiveness as a group. Though no household was fully prepared for the unexpected event, we all pulled together in whatever way we could.

By day five, we dragged out our old tv antenna and turned on the tv to the one and only local station for more information. In retrospect, this was a bad idea. Hearing on the radio about the devastation to the WNC region was one thing, seeing houses, cars, businesses being swept away was heartbreaking. The death toll kept rising day by day as new bodies were found. Some people simply vanished altogether. But when they showed the destruction of the water pipes to Asheville, I cried. This dashed my hope for a quick recovery. I was tired from the daily struggle of finding water and boiling it to make dinner or wash dishes. It was exhausting. Not to mention that I had not had a bath for several days. I felt I was getting a UTI due to not drinking enough water and not being able to fully clean up. My house was in shambles, filthy and messy.

So, after a week of this new reality, we packed up our car and our stinky bodies and left for Atlanta. Our friends there offered us their house while they were away on vacation. We could bring our dog, they lived in a wonderful neighborhood and we would have some purpose with caring for their dog and chickens. The offer seemed heaven sent. I was sad to leave, but I also felt it was necessary for my mental and physical well being. We stayed in Atlanta for two weeks.

Next week: The story continues in Atlanta

Cheryl