Doe River’s baptismal waters once again overrun village
Published 12:25 pm Sunday, September 29, 2024
Buzz Trexler/Star Correspondent In this photo taken Saturday at 7996 U.S. 19E in Roan Mountain, a car appears to have been pushed against a tree during the Doe River flood Friday.
Buzz Trexler/Star Correspondent In this photo taken Saturday near where the Doe River travels under the State Park Road bridge, a car appears to have been pushed against a tree during the flood Friday.
Buzz Trexler/Star Correspondent In this photo taken Saturday, the Roan Mountain Children’s playground lies demolished by Friday’s flooding of the Doe River. New equipment had been installed at the playground in late 2023.
Geren Street/Contributed Photo In this photo taken Friday morning, the First Baptist Church of Roan Mountain parsonage on Stratton Street is overrun by a flooded Doe River.
Geren Street/Contributed Photo In this photo taken Friday morning, St. John Freewill Baptist Church, 178 Old Rock Quarry Road, Roan Mountain, is inundated by water from the flooding Doe River.
Buzz Trexler/Star Correspondent In this photo taken Saturday of damage from the remnants of Hurricane Helene, the ballfield backstop at Erik C. Anderson Community Park is shown crumpled by part of a tree that was sheared from one located about 100 feet away near the concession stand. The park, which suffered heavy damage, was developed after the deadly 1998 Doe River flood.
Buzz Trexler/Star Correspondent In this photo taken Saturday near the Roan Mountain Children’s playground, a car with an X across a tire lies upside down on the banks of Doe River following Friday’s flooding.
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By Buzz Trexler
Star Correspondent
On Sept. 1, Pastor Geren Street stood in the Doe River behind his church’s parsonage in Roan Mountain. One by one, he and a deacon baptized three people, immersing each into the calm flowing water.
One of the newly baptized was a close friend, as was the deacon, so my wife and I were there with others in our family. It was a joyous moment watched by church members and others on a sunny Sunday afternoon.
On Friday morning, Geren and his wife, Carley, fled to their church after the Roan Mountain Fire Department sounded a 90-second alarm to warn residents. They now knew the overflowing Doe was about to claim the village as the remnants of Hurricane Helene brought furious winds and a deluge of rain to the mountain community.
“We left out of here about 7:45 yesterday morning when the siren started,” Geren said Saturday as we stood with him and Carley in the parsonage. “The water was already getting up into the backyard.”
Street, who is pastor at First Baptist Church of Roan Mountain, said he opened the church to evacuees about 8 a.m. Twenty-five spent the night there, but more would come.
“I fed between 50 and 60 for lunch,” Carley said. “And I’ve probably fed at least that many or more today.”
“And now the Red Cross is set up out there and TEMA and FEMA’s coming,” Geren said, referring to the state and federal emergency management agencies. He said the church has been designated a shelter site. “We had eight palettes of water delivered today. The fridge is stocked; I mean, just tons of stuff,” the pastor said.
Geren and a deacon returned to the parsonage about 10:30 a.m. Friday.
“I took a few pictures; I mean, everything was underwater,” Geren said, sharing the photos before we parted. He pointed to a downed tree covering part of the parsonage’s front yard. “But that tree was still standing,” he said.
Carley said by that time, the water was coming through a side door. “All of this was underwater,” she said. “Our whole front yard was underwater. That whole tree was underwater. All the way around our house was underwater.”
The photos the Streets captured on their cell phones from the bridge tell the story.
So does what is left of Roan Mountain Children’s Playground. Volunteers installed new equipment in late 2023, but it is now demolished.
Even more disturbing was the sight of a crushed car with an X across a tire lying upside down on the banks of Doe River. Closer to the State Park Road bridge that crosses the Doe, a mangled car sat, obviously pushed against a tree during the flood Friday.
Traveling into Roan Mountain along U.S. 19E, a similar sight was caught: In the floodplain behind a business center housing a dental practice, hair stylist, and other businesses, a car could be seen lodged against a tree.
The ballfield backstop at Erik C. Anderson Community Park was crumpled by part of a tree. A closer look found it had been sheared from a tree located near the concession stand, possibly about 100 feet away. The park, which suffered heavy damage, was developed after the deadly 1998 Doe River flood.
Turning off of U.S. 19E and onto State Park Road, a large propane tank was seen off the roadside in an area where floodwaters had once been
My wife and I had journeyed down to U.S. 19E from our home near Ripshin Ridge for the first time since the remnants of Hurricane Helene moved through our community overnight Thursday. We had missed events related to the Elizabethton High School Class of 1974 reunion and were doing our best to make the dinner Saturday night. As a freelance journalist for The Elizabethton Star, I also knew the newspaper did not have anyone else near Roan Mountain who could report on the devastation.
Toppled trees weighed down power lines on every road we traveled between Roan Mountain and Johnson City. Sometimes the downed lines could be seen snaking their way across the pavement.
Lest anyone misunderstand, this was no sightseeing trip into Roan Mountain, nor mere journalistic curiosity: As a retired pastor, I was scheduled to preach at two Western North Carolina churches on Sunday. The services were eventually canceled.
We were also concerned about Geren, Carley, the parsonage, and their church.
“The best I can tell, our flock’s OK,” Geren said, but there was uncertainty in his voice. “You know, there’s still places you can’t get to. We’ve got families up Shell Creek we can’t get to. We’ve got families up Hampton Creek we can’t get to. We tried. There’s just too many trees and power lines across the road, and you can’t call nobody. All those I’ve heard from are good.”
We continued to Main Street, where the scene was overwhelming. The water had receded, but now people could be seen trying to recover what they could of their possessions, loading them in pickup trucks, a UHaul, and trailers.
A man used a snow shovel to move mud out of a driveway.
The once nearly perfectly aligned fence at the John T. Wilder House now had a disjointed appearance, as if uncertain which way to travel.
One woman seemed dazed, as if she was uncertain what to do with a piece of sheet metal outside her mobile home. Wading through water, she held it in her hand and moved it from one place to another, before stopping, gently propping it against her home.
A hardshell journalist for nearly 40 years, I could not bring myself to raise the camera and capture photos of my neighbors in distress.
Dressed for the reunion dinner, we felt like intruders.
We left.
There’s a time to lend a hand – and such hands will come — but the time to pray is always.
At the Class of ’74 reunion dinner, we prayed.
