Surviving Hurricane Helene at Prepper Camp 2024
Episode 466
Surviving Hurricane Helene at Prepper Camp 2024 was an experience to remember. When disaster strikes, Jesus saves, and the prepared rise above!
Prepper Camp is the family reunion I look forward to every year. The last weekend of September, I know I will be amongst my friends, helping others prepare for life's unexpected twists and turns. Weeks before the event, I start dreaming about being there. As an author, I have books to order, displays to organize, classes to dial in, and usually one good prank up my sleeve for my friends.
This year looked perfect on paper. Then a Gulf disturbance put the whole trip into question. Living in Texas, we know hurricanes. Most lose steam inland. This one did not behave. Some of our crew stayed home. I teach self-defense, anti-kidnapping, and sexual assault prevention at camp, and I could not shake the feeling that those classes still needed to happen. My family, my friend Ellen from Australia, and I left Texas for North Carolina anyway on Wednesday
Rain shut us down in Atlanta. We slept at a Love's truck stop and pushed north at daylight. Rick Austin emailed to say that the setup was delayed to Friday because of the wind. Books and water do not mix, so I was grateful. We rolled into Orchard Lake Campground outside Saluda, cooked under the awning, and later played Uno in the pavilion while severe alerts buzzed on every phone.
That night Helene arrived in force. No thunder, just a roar. Trees dumped limbs on the trailer and the vehicles we had packed around it as a buffer. I prayed, pulled my youngest into bed between me and my husband, and waited. Around 5:30 a.m. the trailer lights died. Cell service died with them. Water found the front of the trailer and the satellite dish.
At first light, I found Doug Hogan in his car. He had tried to ride out the storm in a hammock tent and got soaked for the effort. On Episode 466 of The Changing Earth Podcast, Doug said what every catalog should print in bold: there is no such thing as truly waterproof when a storm wants in. Condensation still forms under a high-end tarp. Trees sway, and straps sag. The win was the gear he kept inside a sealed waterproof pack.
Up at the pavilion, organizers were bailing a flooded building. Jordan Smith was already cooking breakfast for whoever needed it. Tent City was a mud bog. Wind had twisted tents into pretzels. Jordan later joked that Crocs and flip-flops surrender the second a campground turns into a sponge. Shoes fill from the top. Mud laughs at marketing claims.
Only one tree fell in the whole campground. It landed on the site where my friend Stacy was supposed to sleep. Around 3 a.m. she felt a warning she could not ignore, moved to her vehicle, and lived. Ryan Buford talked on the episode about that same kind of nudge, and about high ground as a real survival factor, not a metaphor.
Pork Chop and others cut a one-lane path toward Saluda. Outside news was brutal: landslides, drowned towns, blocked roads. Class tents tried to fly away. Port-a-potties tipped. We shared kielbasa and crackers in the trailer because food vendors were not coming and neighbors were hungry.
When Doug knocked to say we could set up, the vendor field was half-empty and as soft as pudding. Jasmine Beyonde somehow kept A/V alive. Starlink gave a few of us a thin line out. Ryan's practical tip from Episode 466 was simple and gold: a small, roughly 500-watt inverter plus Starlink is how you tell people you are alive when towers are gone.
Saturday brought about a third of the usual crowd. I sold two books and barely ate. Worst sales day I have had at any event. That is not why we go. Small classes still got taught. People were still thankful. On the podcast, Jordan, Doug, and Ryan agreed that carefully holding the event kept newer folks safer on high ground rather than scattering them onto impassable mountain roads in a panic.
Sunday rain put us in motion. We scouted first. The back road was Keep Out. Toward Saluda, one tight turn threatened the trailer. We did not have a chainsaw, but our go bags had handsaws, and Ellen had a hatchet. Morgan, a man we had just met, attacked bigger limbs like it was personal. A firefighter finished the heavy log. A local told me their daughter went into labor during the storm and got out only because that prepper-cleared path existed. Those roads feed more than a campground.
Driving out, we crossed downed lines and passed people standing beside half houses. Gas lines stretched forever. Half a tank lasted longer than it had any right to. Ryan's crew made about 150 miles after other preppers poured fuel from cans into their nearly empty tank. Cash mattered when ATMs were dead. We finally got a hot shower and fried chicken in Talladega and felt rich.
Helene was not a news clip. Towns will take years to rebuild. When bridges, towers, and roads fail together, the people next to you are the plan. Money does not feed anybody in that hour.
What held in Hurricane Helene
Asolo boots that stayed dry
Go bags with tools, not just checklists
Extra clothes and food worth sharing
Starlink and a small inverter when the grid quit
Calm neighbors, shared fuel, and hands on a saw
Faith, high ground, and the sense to move when you are told to move
What failed or got upgraded in Hurricane Helene
Trusting "waterproof" without testing seams
Soft shoes in a flooded campground
No chainsaw on a mountain road trip
No spare fuel cans
Assuming cards and ATMs will work
Listen to the full conversation on Episode 466 with Doug Hogan, Jordan Smith, and Ryan Buford. Then pack the boring things before the next storm draws a line on your map.
About Doug Hogan, Jordan Smith, Ryan Buford
The Prepper Broadcasting Hosts that participated in Prepper Camp 2024 share their experiences.
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