Sunny River Writings

Today as I headed east out of Canton on the just opened section of Route 19 the tears came. I couldn’t stop them. I knew the devastation to my small community was bad but I wasn’t prepared for what I saw.

The morning after the flood I headed out through Canton and Clyde. Memories of hurricanes Ivan and Francis came flooding back. In 2004 it was north and west of the paper mill, that sits in the center of town, that was heavily damaged. This time it is south and east that took the full force of the storm.

Yesterday on my way back home, stopping at the still barricaded downtown, it was hard to watch the towns people pulling out and piling up the pieces of their businesses, pieces of their homes, the pieces of their lives. Heartbroken at the sight. This is my town that has been torn apart. I have never felt closer to my community than now.

In one spot there is a large empty field of mud. There used to be something there. I am so dumbstruck at the sight I can’t remember exactly what it had been there. I think it is where a flee market was. There is nothing left. No structure,no grass, no trees. All washed away. All the businesses and homes on this stretch have been damaged or destroyed.

The lawnmower repair shop has mowers that have floated away and settled as far as a half mile away. Sunburst campground with its little cabins have all been washed away. Not a one left standing.

For me the worst site was one that shook me to my core. Whenever I drove down the five mile mountain road from the Blue Ridge Parkway to the town of Clyde there was a little blue cottage that greeted me as I emerged from the tree lined mountain road. The cottage was always neat and tidy a pleasant welcoming site. Its sky blue stood out among the grey and white houses around it. Seeing it felt like it was saying ‘welcome back, you’re almost home’.

On this day as I headed through Clyde. The little blue cottage was gone. The side of the mountain was gone, washed away. The happy little cottage had disappeared.

My heart was broken. I had lost a friend. For the next several weeks as I drove past that spot I looked to see if I could find any sign of the cottage. There was not even one blue board to be found. New travelers on this road would never know of the little blue cottage.

I had to stop, pull over, as the flood of tears overtook me. I will never forget my welcoming friend.

2021 Hurricane Fred Canton & Clyde, North Carolina

This essay I wrote three years ago when Hurricane Fred wreaked devastation on the little community where I had lived for 20 years. It washed out roads, houses, campgrounds, and the neighboring community of Clyde. Having just participated in clean-up from Hurricane Helene in the area where my children and grandchildren live it brought back memories of the heart ache felt three years ago.