In moments of crisis, it's not the chaos that defines you, but how you communicate, collaborate, and navigate through the uncertainty.

Strategic Communication Amidst Tragedy: How I Survived the Western North Carolina Floods

Starter

Names have been changed to protect privacy.

What began as a routine trip to visit my best friend in Charlotte, North Carolina, quickly became one of the most terrifying experiences of my life. It was supposed to be a simple drive from Knoxville, Tennessee, but as I approached Fletcher, North Carolina, the situation spiraled into a life-threatening ordeal.

I had been driving without incident for half of my trip. My GPS had directed me to merge off I-40 onto Asheville Hwy / I-26. It was then that my phone lit up with Emergency Notifications. I wasn’t reading them at the time because I was trying to focus on driving. In hindsight, those alerts were warning that a dam had broken and a flash flood was imminent.

As I drove down Asheville Hwy, I saw entire semi-trucks swallowed by rising waters on both sides. Then, ahead of me, a highway utility truck with a digital sign was parked on the road. The sign read, “Turn around now.”

At that moment, Google Maps was not being updated, and I desperately needed a co-pilot. I was trying to navigate the back roads of an unfamiliar area in real time. I thought I could go around the flooded area. I navigated through back roads littered with fallen trees, downed power lines, and debris, only to be met with running water washing out entire sections of the road.

For the next hour, I drove up and down roads, realizing I was encircled by water, and the surrounding area was rapidly flooding. I found the highest point I could; a Waffle House parking lot. It was there, stranded, that the real challenge began.

Main Course

The Isolation Begins

Within a short time, power and cell towers were knocked out, cutting off any means of communication. For the next 36 hours, I had no contact with the outside world. Fortunately, I wasn’t entirely alone—two local firefighters with radios were also stuck in the Waffle House parking lot. They became my only source of information, relaying updates about the growing disaster and offering crucial insights into what was happening around us.

The only update they gave was grim: the waters were expected to crest on Sunday, and it was only Friday.

The Waffle House wasn’t equipped to handle the volume of customers. It was cash-only, and all they had left was bacon. Then, to my amazement, they closed. I didn’t think a Waffle House could close, but I was witnessing a real-life miracle. I had only planned to drive for four hours from Knoxville to Charlotte, so I hadn’t packed any extra food or snacks.

I was surrounded by Bengals fans who were driving down from Cincinnati for the game in Charlotte. A car full of women became my first friends, offering me some trail mix and a few laughs about our situation.

However, without power, food, or a clear idea of what would happen next, I knew that any move we made had to be a calculated one. My situation demanded smart and strategic thinking.

A Plan Begins to Form

After hours of uncertainty, we finally received news that a highway out of the area had cleared, offering a potential escape route back to Asheville. My original trip to Charlotte was no longer an option—I just wanted to get home.

As I drove toward Asheville, the extent of the devastation hit me hard. Houses were being swept away by the floodwaters, and cars were submerged. Trees and power lines blocked nearly every road, and gas stations were either without electricity or completely empty.

I was using Google Maps to locate any road I could take. I thought I could take I-26 North up to Johnson City and then I-81 into Knoxville. My plan seemed to be working for about an hour. Then, I approached a long line of stopped cars. After 30 minutes, I reached the front, where a state trooper was telling everyone to turn around. The bridge ahead was gone.

I turned around and pulled over at a closed rest stop to ask people if they had a plan. Everyone was doing the same thing as me—trying to figure out what road to take to get out. I made a plan to try heading further east to reach Boone. I started down 19W and made my way through Burnsville and into Spruce Pine.

When I reached Spruce Pine, I stopped at the only gas station with power, only to find the generator wasn’t powerful enough to pump gas. Fortunately, I still had half a tank, so I just needed food and water. I was quickly realizing I wasn’t going to make it back to Knoxville and would likely spend the night in my car.

It was here that I met a couple, Jack and Natasha, who had completely run out of fuel. Together, we connected with a local who kindly offered them five gallons of gas, free of charge. In moments like this, human kindness and communication become essential lifelines.

I also met two Maldivian men trying to get back to Raleigh, NC. They arrived just as the gas station closed for the night. They had no food or water, so I shared some of my rations with them. They told me they had found cell reception 15 minutes up the mountain and offered to guide us there.

This was the start of my clan. The five of us made our way up the mountain, hoping to communicate with the outside world.

Strategizing for Survival

Once we reached the top of the mountain, I met another group, a couple named Brad and Sharen. They offered me wine and nuts and were great fun amidst the situation. We decided to accept that we were stuck for the night, get some sleep, and regroup in the morning.

Thankfully, I had an extra blanket in my trunk, a life jacket I used as a pillow, and an open backseat where I could lie down. It made for a semi-comfortable night, much better than what my newfound friends endured, sleeping upright in the front seats.

I awoke around 6:45 a.m. to voices and several new cars. Word had spread that the mountaintop had cellular service. With extremely limited resources and more people arriving, we knew we needed to get out.

With communication limited and roads closed, survival depended on pooling together what little information we had. Locals, travelers, and stranded motorists like myself shared everything we knew:

• I-40 West was still closed, but I-40 East out of Asheville was open.

• Major routes, including 19W and 26 North/South, were shut down due to landslides.

• Many roads were blocked by fallen trees and debris, making them impassable.

We quickly divided into groups to maximize our chances of survival:

• One group would attempt to drive back to Asheville and then head toward Charlotte.

• Another group planned to hike through a nearby mountain pass in hopes of reaching Winston-Salem.

• The third group, made up of those unable to leave, focused on gathering food and water to sustain themselves until emergency services arrived.

Before setting off on our trek, we needed food. We remembered passing a general store with power the previous night. However, none of us could remember exactly how far back it was. We guessed maybe a mile or two up the road, but we were wrong.

After walking for 20 minutes, we realized this short hike to the store would turn into a half-day adventure. Luckily, a local with a truck stopped and gave us a lift the rest of the way. Thankfully, he did, it was a 10-minute drive (going 40 mph) to the Cruze Thru at the end of the road.

The Cruze Thru was swarmed. We were lucky to get there when we did. I told my group to prioritize electrolyte water, protein (jerky sticks, peanut butter, etc.), and bread if we could find any.

The shelves were quickly clearing out.

We loaded up on food and water and knew we needed to catch a ride back, as we were now about eight miles away, and the hike back would be uphill.

After 15 minutes of hitchhiking, another local couple in a Suburban stopped and let us hop in. I crammed into the second row on the floor with their dog. I’m allergic to dogs and don’t like them, but staring face to face with this beagle felt like a blessing. We were on our way back up the mountain, food secured.

The Trek to Safety

It was time to finally decide: stay or go.

Brad, Sharen, and I decided to hike past the landslide and make our way to the open interstate. Our plan was to hike down the mountain toward a pickup site in Marion. The challenge was that we only had minimal cell service at the top of the mountain. Once we began the trek, we would lose all communication until well past our meeting point.

We calculated the time needed for the five-mile downhill hike and identified three points where we could regroup if needed. After finalizing our plan, we started the hike. The journey was treacherous, with parts of the road completely eroded by landslides. We were saved by a local, Sally, who had a side-by-side and offered us a ride down the mountain. She didn’t know how far she could take us, but at that moment, any distance was a blessing.

On our drive down, we passed a family of black bears, likely displaced by the disaster, hungry and scared like us. We saw the path of destruction from the water—homes cut off, land bridges washed away, and trees blocking paths to homes. It was humbling to witness the power of nature.

Sally took us all the way to the Dollar General at the bottom of the mountain, where we were supposed to meet Steven. With her help, we arrived an hour early. Steven, Brad and Sharen’s son, arrived shortly after and drove us to Winston-Salem, where we were finally safe.

We stopped at a Sheetz in Hendersonville, where it felt like the world hadn’t stopped at all. The Sheetz had power, was fully stocked with food, music was playing overhead, and people were pumping gas. The reentry shock was real, and it hadn’t even been 48 hours.

We ended up driving back the following Tuesday to retrieve our vehicles. We stopped at Brad and Sharen’s friend’s house to deliver water and supplies. We retrieved all our vehicles without incident and dropped off more supplies at the local fire department. Driving back through the area that had trapped us was surreal. The destruction was evident, but so was the help and aid arriving to restore the area. It was bittersweet.

It felt like we had been in a real-life combat zone; helicopters flying overhead, all-terrain vehicles in use. I was just happy to see that resources, aid, and help had finally arrived.

I am incredibly grateful for all the amazing people who helped us along the way. Without them, my experience would have been much worse. It’s in times like these that both the best and worst of humanity come through. I was fortunate to witness the best of humanity.

Everyone in my clan made it out safely. Jack and Natasha made it out and were able to attend the Bengals game. The Maldivian men made it back to Raleigh, and Brad and Sharen made it home safely.

Thank you for reading my story.

Digest

Surviving this ordeal taught me a powerful lesson: in moments of crisis, strategic communication is everything. By gathering information, asking the right questions, and collaborating effectively, we were able to navigate a life-threatening situation. Whether you’re facing challenges in your career, business, or personal life, never underestimate the importance of strategic thinking and clear communication. It can be the difference between success and disaster.

The Insight Toolbox:

Navigating Crisis with Strategic Communication

• Stay Calm and Assess the Situation

  Take a moment to evaluate your surroundings and gather as much information as possible before making any decisions.

• Prioritize Safety

  Find the safest, highest ground or structure if you're in immediate danger, just as I parked at a high point when the floodwaters rose.

• Establish Communication Channels

  If you lose access to conventional communication, identify alternative methods (e.g., radios, local contacts) to stay informed.

• Collaborate and Share Information

  Engage with others around you to pool knowledge and resources, just like we shared details about road closures and gas availability.

• Plan with Flexibility

  Form multiple contingency plans based on the situation's evolving nature. For us, it meant splitting into groups with different strategies for escape.

• Be Ready to Adapt

  Crises can change quickly. Be prepared to shift your approach, whether it's deciding to hike instead of drive or adjusting routes based on new information.

• Strategize Your Movements

  Before taking action, map out a clear plan of where you’re going and how long it will take, just as we planned our hike with specific rendezvous points.

• Leverage Human Kindness

  In times of crisis, don’t hesitate to connect with others. Whether it’s sharing gas or coordinating efforts, collaboration can make survival possible.

• Reflect on Your Experience

  After the crisis, take time to review what worked and what didn’t in terms of communication and decision-making. This will help in future situations.

• Support Relief Efforts

  If you have the ability, contribute to recovery efforts for those impacted by disasters.

The communities of Western North Carolina are still recovering from this devastating flood. If you can, please consider donating to relief efforts. Organizations like the American Red Cross are providing critical aid to those affected. Your support could make a world of difference to families in need.

About The Author

Patrick Miley Jr. is a business and career coach with a passion for helping individuals navigate career transitions and unlock their full potential. With a diverse background in both healthcare and business, Patrick leverages his unique experience as an ICU nurse and his MBA in Organizational Management to empower solopreneurs, minority business owners, and healthcare professionals to thrive in competitive industries. He is the founder of Insight 2 Action, where he provides strategic coaching and marketing consulting services. Patrick is dedicated to teaching the art of strategic communication—a skill that has transformed his own career.

When he’s not coaching, Patrick enjoys paddleboarding, running half marathons, and leading discussions in the Knox Book Club. You can connect with him on LinkedIn or through his company, Insight 2 Action.