I started my journey on Friday, September 20th, from Louisville, KY, after visiting my daughter on the way to Asheville, NC. The day began uneventfully, but I had started hearing whispers of a tropical storm brewing off the coast. “Good thing I’m not heading to Florida,” I thought. Little did I know that I was about to be caught in the midst of Hurricane Helene’s path!

When I arrived in Asheville that evening, I met the lovely couple whose home I would be house-sitting. (I found them through the website Trusted House Sitters) They were heading to Italy the next day for twelve days, leaving behind their beautiful mountain home north of Asheville—and their adorable labradoodle for me to care for. The house itself was a masterpiece. Perched on a mountain, surrounded by lush greenery and rock steps, it featured two streams and a koi pond, making it feel like a retreat. By the end of this stay, I knew I’d be in better shape from going up and down all the steps!

The next morning, after a relaxing breakfast with the homeowners, they gave me a tour of their home and showed me the essentials. They suggested I visit an art festival in nearby Weaverville, which sounded like the perfect way to start my adventure. While small, the festival had incredible artwork, though I resisted the temptation to splurge. Instead, I grabbed some groceries, not knowing yet how fortunate that decision would be.

The first few days felt like a peaceful retreat. With the majestic Blue Ridge Mountains as my backdrop and the soothing sound of water flowing from the streams, I started finding my rhythm. It was a creative oasis—perfect for getting back to my YouTube videos and Instagram updates. I felt inspired, productive, and reconnected to my purpose. The labradoodle, however, was slow to warm up to me, missing her owners terribly. I tried hard to engage her, but she wasn’t ready yet.

By Wednesday, I had my heart set on exploring Asheville. But that morning, I woke to the sound of the dog howling—mourning her parents’ absence. With rain on the horizon, I tried to coax her into a walk before the weather turned, but she wasn’t having it. The poor pup was heartbroken, and I didn’t want to let her mom know how hard it was for her, but eventually, I called a neighbor who brought her dogs which were friends to help.

Friday came, and I had big plans for the day—visit the River Arts District, grab lunch, and then enjoy some ecstatic dance in the evening. That is, until I woke up to trees bending in ways that defied logic. It turned out, Hurricane Helene had veered right into the mountains, with Asheville at its center. How could a hurricane even reach the mountains? Yet there I was, smack in the middle of it. The storm roared, but the house stood firm, almost soundproof. By the time I realized what was happening and thought to film it, the worst had passed. 

After the storm, I lost internet and cell service, but the house was equipped with a generator that ran on natural gas—thankfully! A few hours later, a neighbor knocked to check on me and informed me I was the only one in the area with power and that the water supply had been cut off. Reality hit hard—I was in the middle of a crisis, cut off from the world, with no water and limited communication. I quickly started conserving my resources and learned to appreciate the little things, like canned sparkling water. Even more, I learned about the importance of community when neighbors helped each other through the ordeal.

The days that followed were filled with small triumphs and challenges—sweeping leaves off steep driveways to make my car drivable, borrowing water from a well, and charging devices for neighbors in need. News trickled in about the devastation the hurricane had caused, washing away entire towns and leaving parts of Asheville underwater. Yet, in the midst of the tragedy, I saw how communities band together, leaning on each other for support and comfort.

When the homeowners finally returned, we shared stories over coffee about the strange twists this trip had taken. Despite the chaos, I was grateful for the experience. It reminded me how resilient we are, how small acts of kindness can make a difference, and how nature has a way of showing us who’s really in charge.

As I left Asheville, my heart was heavy for the communities that had been devastated, like the town of Swannanoa, which was completely washed away. But I also felt hope—hope in the strength of community, in the beauty of resilience. If you feel moved, I encourage you to consider donating to organizations like Beloved Asheville, which are providing much-needed relief to those affected by the hurricane.

In the end, my house-sitting adventure became a journey of connection, survival, and unexpected lessons. And while I never made it to the dance, I danced through the storm in my own way.