The Ugly Autumn

My husband and I arrived home from our wanderings as climate refugees on October 10. We had power, and with it, internet and TV. We had water, albeit with a “boil water advisory,” which demanded a minimum of 1 minute at a rapid boil before consuming. Over those first few days we were reveling in post-season baseball and short showers, but our optimism diminished as we watched the water flowing out of our kitchen faucet get darker and murkier. No amount of boiling was going to make the water any less ugly. Thus began the Ugly Autumn.

We sought beauty by rebuilding our daily lives and spending time with friends. Everyday seemed better than the day before and the ugliness would recede, at least for a little while, until we returned home. There we would face the ugly water and the need to question so many things we had taken for granted: washing our clothes, brushing our teeth and cleaning the kitchen counters. The City of Asheville makes sure we know that nothing has changed. We receive the same phone message every day at 4 pm, in both English and Spanish, reminding us that the boil water advisory remains in place.

I visited one of the many distribution sites across Buncombe County for bottled water. This one has mobile shower trailers, laundry facilities, food and supplies, in addition to water. Every person working there, whether on a payroll or a volunteer, was answering questions and delivering help with compassion, concern and a smile. By looking past the hurricane and its aftermath that had added this search for potable water to my daily life, I was able to experience something beautiful. This was but one example of the spirit of community, the helping hands, and the overwhelming sense of unity that is everywhere. Before I even knew what was happening, a National Guard person loaded 72 liters of water into the back of my car. If I hadn’t said, “please stop!” they would have filled my car. I walked along the tables of supplies being distributed, considering whether I should take a few granola bars if I knew I could buy them. Then I saw them – the household fire extinguishers being distributed by the Red Cross. It punched a hole through all the gratitude and beauty that had enveloped me. I started crying. After all that we have endured, even the thought of having to deal with a fire was just too much to bare. And yet, this is the reality. We have had close to zero inches of rain since the storm, and piles of dead trees and debris are everywhere. The Ugly Autumn in western North Carolina is a tinderbox.  Just one careless mistake and we could be engulfed in wildfires.

The lack of rain has been accompanied by nothing but beautiful weather. Despite the endless blue skies, the scars from the storm are everywhere. Yesterday I drove through Biltmore Village for the first time. Seeing the devastation there was hard. I have not yet seen first-hand what remains of the River Arts District, only the images when doom-scrolling. I know its destruction is the worst kind of ugly; an ugliness that has limited pathways into the future.

I had several weeks to consider what we would confront when we could at last return to the forests. I could only conjure images of the Ugly Autumn filled with downed trees, denuded landscapes, and brown leaves falling and covering the newly formed ruts and deposits of mud and rocks. Despite these expectations, I desperately needed to return to the trails. When Pisgah National Forest reopened, a hiking buddy and I decided to wait a few days to make sure the trails were safe. We monitored our favorite app, AllTrails, for comments about particular trails.  We finally chose a hike that begins along the Davidson River. One person had remarked that the storm had cleared much of the river of debris and laid bare the beautiful rocks along its banks. I could not have agreed more, and that was just the beginning of a beautiful day in Pisgah Forest. There were plenty of chainsawed trees along the trails, but that could not eclipse the experience of filling my lungs with mountain air. We experienced all the colors you would expect on an October hike, the sounds of the river and the crunching of leaves beneath our boots, and the joy of eating a PB&J sandwich with friends beneath the forest canopy. My spirit was lifted by all the beauty that surrounded me.

After a beautiful day of hiking, even the daily phone call from Asheville City Water Resources couldn’t bring me down. But the next day I looked at the growing pile of empty water bottles in a vast array of sizes and decided it was getting ugly. In my heart I knew that no one would judge me as a bad steward of the environment if this is what I needed to do to have access to clean water, but my brain told me I could do better. A quick perusal of the Buncombe County Hurricane Helene Information website and I was on my way to a nearby community center. I was able to refill all my gallon jugs easily and quickly. I now make the trip to the refilling station every few days. Even this simple act makes me feel like a beautiful environmental warrior princess.

Life in Asheville is starting to feel like living in Punxsutauney PA in the movie Groundhog Day. As much as we want tomorrow to be different, every day we awaken to news reports of the turbidity level of the North Fork Reservoir and the never changing boil water advisory messages. As many good deeds as we accomplish during the day, we are stuck in the time loop of the Ugly Autumn. We are waiting for the beautiful day when the daily water update will notify us that the boil water advisory has been lifted and we will be free to stand in the shower with our mouths agape. And like the weatherman Phil Connors, we intend to remain in beautiful Asheville and contribute to its recovery.