Hurricane Helene Wiped Out His Home and His Dreams, But Not What He Valued Most

After a disaster, one man’s community ties made all the difference

Sara Murphy,

AARP

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Published January 16, 2025

Doug Chayka

Christopher Fielden is no stranger to floods. Over the 18 years he’s lived in Swannanoa, North Carolina, 10 miles east of Asheville, he estimates that the Swannanoa River overflowed its banks and flooded part of his property maybe 30 times. But the buildings at the farther end remained untouched.

As Hurricane Helene approached last fall, however, Fielden, 53, took no chances. He placed straw bales in a makeshift berm around his one-story house, and he rented a pump to remove any water that might leak through.

It wasn’t enough. By 6 a.m. on Friday, Sept. 27, water was entering the house. Wearing a headlamp in the darkness, Fielden grabbed his computer and backpack, then drove his 2004 Toyota truck to safety.

Living Off the Land

In 2006, Fielden and his then-partner had bought five acres, hoping to live sustainably off the land. They built their house, then launched Red Wing Farm, selling plant starts and produce locally. Later, they added dairy goats and chickens. Net income reached $28,000 in a good year. So both he and his partner worked other jobs as well: she for nonprofits, he as an architectural draftsman.

In 2016, they bought the adjacent six acres along the river, plus the mobile home on the land. But several years later, after Fielden had suffered two medical setbacks — a burst appendix and Lyme disease — he decided sustainable farming was neither financially nor physically feasible for him. Red Wing Farm closed, and Fielden started a business consulting on ADA-compliant accessibility.

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By 2023, Fielden had split from his partner and had bought out her share of their properties. At the time Helene arrived, he was making monthly mortgage payments of nearly $4,000. Along with his consulting income, he was collecting $2,700 in monthly rent.

“I had a financial plan for the rest of my life, including retirement,” says Fielden. The mortgages would be paid off around the time he turned 65, and the rental income would support him as he aged. “Now all that’s gone.”

Money In, Money Out

Regaining his composure at the CCLD, Fielden started looking for ways to help out. With power still out, residents had to be evacuated and generators connected. “I found a sense of purpose there,” he says. The CCLD directors invited him to move into one of the rooms reserved for families. “That’s been a beautiful gift,” he says.

So he had a place to stay. But what would become of his home? Never believing it was in danger, he hadn’t covered it with flood insurance. Luckily, by the Monday after the storm, he had cellphone service — at that moment a rarity in western North Carolina. He was able to connect with the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) for aid. An inspector showed up within days, and soon Fielden received a $53,000 check through the disaster assistance program, earmarked mostly for home repair.

And he did have flood insurance on the property with the mobile home, since it had been required for getting a mortgage. With the money he received, he paid off the balance and now owns that tract outright. He still has a mortgage on the five acres where the remains of the house sit, and in December resumed making the $1,750 monthly payment on that property.

Fielden restarted his consulting work about two weeks after the storm. “In the short term, right now, I am able to pay my bills,” he says.

The Power of Community

Just before Thanksgiving, Fielden moved out of CCLD and into a furnished apartment in East Asheville, thanks to a fellow volunteer who owns a rental property. “They said, ‘We’ve got this space, and we’d love to offer this to you, rent free, for as long as you need,’” says Fielden.

Asked to share any financial lessons he has learned in the aftermath of the hurricane, Fielden offers some obvious ones: Don’t buy property in a floodplain. Do buy flood insurance.

But the most valuable lesson, he says, has nothing to do with money. “What’s most important for getting through a moment like this is community, family, support, love, and having close relationships with people,” he says. “If anything comes out of this experience, personally for me, as well as the collective experience in Asheville, let this be a wake-up call for people: If you don’t have the level of community that you want and need in your life, prioritize that. Because if I don’t have people, it doesn’t matter how much money I have.”

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Sara Murphy is a freelance writer living outside of Asheville, North Carolina. She has written for The New York Times, The Washington Post, National Geographic, and other outlets. A K-pop stan, she has a PhD in 17th-century British literature.