Collateral Beauty: The Aftermath of Hurricane Helene in the North Carolina Mountains
I was sitting at my desk, aimlessly editing motorcycle photos, when I happened to scroll through Instagram. That’s when I saw footage of the hurricane that had torn through just days before—Hurricane Helene. As I kept watching, I realized some of my friends in North Carolina had been hit hard. Really hard.
For days, I tried reaching out to them. When they finally responded, the news was worse than I could have imagined. The media wasn’t covering it, FEMA was nowhere to be found, and the devastation was far greater than anyone was letting on.
Asheville is about 370 miles from where I live—roughly a six-hour drive. And all I could think was: I have to go.
I’m not a first responder. I have no search-and-rescue experience. I’ve never been to war. But I knew I could at least bring supplies. I turned to social media, posting that I was heading to Asheville to help. I told people that if they donated to my Venmo, I’d make sure every dollar went directly into the hands of those who needed it most.
Within 24 hours, nearly five thousand dollars had come in. So, off to Costco I went.
By Friday morning, my truck was loaded down with supplies, and I made the trek to Black Mountain, NC. As I drove through what was left of downtown, I started to cry. It was like nothing I had ever seen. Nobody had expected this. How could they?
Now, looking back, I realize that Instagram isn’t enough to share what I experienced in Western North Carolina. I have hundreds of photos, but this isn’t my story to tell—not fully. I was only there for four days.
If you or someone you know is living in the aftermath of Hurricane Helene and wants to share their experience, please reach out. I want to help tell the real story—the one that deserves to be heard.
Thank you.
