We Can Finally Flush Our Toilets in Asheville. But Getting Drinking Water Is Still an Issue.

When a friend showed up at my door with 3 gallons of water, I nearly cried with relief. Three days earlier, Hurricane Helene had barreled through Western North Carolina, turning life upside down with flooding and mudslides that leveled entire neighborhoods, swept away homes and businesses, and killed at least 96 people .

The storm also caused catastrophic damage to the water system in Asheville. It washed away thousands of feet of water lines , wiped out roads leading to treatment plants, and churned up sediment in reservoirs. Along with most residents, I had been without running water since the day after the storm. I had a few bottles of water for drinking, but none to spare for other household uses. I hadn't been able to flush my toilet for two days, and the smell of raw sewage was getting worse by the hour. But my friend had managed to score a few gallons of non-potable water at his work. "This should be good for two flushes," he said, handing me a couple of white plastic buckets. The sound of flushing had never been so beautiful.

Altogether, Asheville went without running water for almost three weeks. For 19 days, we hauled potable drinking water from distribution sites, collected gray water and creek water for flushing, and carefully rationed every drop. Now, water has finally started flowing from our taps again, but it still isn't safe to drink. As of Nov 1, officials' best estimate for potable water restoration is mid-December. By then, we will have lived without safe drinking water for two and a half months—conditions most of us couldn't have imagined before the storm. Helene and its aftermath have highlighted a climate change truth we all have to reckon with: The effects of a weather disaster go on long after the rain has stopped, and those effects are complex and hard to prepare for.

Sourcing water for household use "takes a remarkable amount of time," says Asheville resident Ricardo Seijo. "Like way more than one would think." Seijo, who grew up in Puerto Rico, is no stranger to hurricanes. Ahead of the storm, he filled up his bathtub with water to use for flushing and handwashing. But he was in the minority; Asheville is 300 miles from the coast, so most residents didn't know the protocol and many didn't have extra water on hand. After the storm, the city sent alerts that water access would probably be lost, but those alerts were sent after power, Wi-Fi, and cell networks were already down, so many people never got them. With area roads seriously impacted by the storm, deliveries couldn't make it to grocery stores, so it was nearly impossible to purchase bottled water. Within a few days, the Federal Emergency Management Agency, the National Guard, and local government had the first water station set up downtown. Here residents could fill up containers (if they had any—none were provided at the site) with drinking water, but we were initially limited to one gallon per person, or 5 gallons per family. That was not nearly enough to drink and flush, bathe, and wash dishes. Many residents hauled water from creeks and pools to use for flushing. Brooke Stanich-Holdren drew from a creek at the golf course near her home every few days. Each time, "it only took about 30 minutes," she says. "But it would not be accessible to someone who wasn't able-bodied. The buckets were super heavy!" Local Facebook groups filled up with posts on how to MacGyver a shower out of a pump sprayer, how to effectively wash dishes using the least amount of water, and even how to use kitty litter in the toilet to mitigate the odor of sewage that was now emanating from our bathrooms.

The challenge of flushing created not just a quality-of-life issue, but also a public health one. Without a clear way for people to flush after using the toilet, clean their bathrooms, and wash their hands, "we were worried about infections, germs, and diarrheal illnesses," says Jennifer Mullendore, the medical director for Buncombe County Health and Human Services. According to Mullendore, epidemiologists from the state have found a recent increase in cases of a bacteria called campylobacter in the region, leading to an uptick in gastrointestinal illness characterized by vomiting and diarrhea. The "increase does appear to be storm-related," says Mullendore. She thinks it was caused mainly by inadequate handwashing and unsafe food preparation practices due to lack of clean water. That, combined with increased contact with feces due to the inability to flush regularly, is a recipe for illness.

Public health concerns were especially serious in low-income and senior housing, particularly multi-floor apartment buildings. With the power out for weeks in some areas, elevators didn't work, stranding elderly and disabled residents who were unable to haul gallons of water up multiple flights of stairs. Public housing complexes reported overflowing toilets, soiled sheets, and trash dumpsters full of human excrement that piled up during the weeks before regular garbage pickup resumed within city limits. Ultimately, volunteers came to the rescue with non-potable flushing water. Groups like Flush AVL and the Flush Brigade provided large plastic totes full of clearly labeled non-potable flushing water to neighborhoods across the city. Volunteers hauled water into high-risk areas, flushing the toilets of folks who were unable to source flushing water themselves. But such a piecemeal approach was bound to let some of the most vulnerable fall through the cracks.

That's why the city decided to put non-potable water back into residents' homes rather than waiting until the water was safe to drink. Asheville City Water Resources Department public information officer Clay Chandler explained the calculation to me in an email: "Public health (basic sanitation like the ability to flush toilets) and essential public safety (like the ability of the fire department to hook into a hydrant and fight fires) were the reasons we decided to pressurize the system as soon as possible" and return water to residents before it was potable.

Two and a half weeks after Helene, non-potable water began flowing to residents' homes, one neighborhood at a time. With the return of water came the ability to flush as often as needed, which dramatically improved our quality of life. But the water-related challenges continue. The city issues daily notices to boil water in both English and Spanish, via phone, text, and email. These notices state that "there is contamination due to impacts from Hurricane Helene. ... Your water may look cloudy and/or have a chlorine odor. It is for customers to vigorously boil tap water for 1 minute before consuming it." I asked Chandler for specifics about the risks of widespread use of non-potable water. He didn't elaborate. "Bottled water or water from an alternate source is obviously ideal and is recommended if available," he wrote.

Sourcing safe drinking water is now a regular and time-consuming feature of daily life in Asheville. There are five government-run water distribution sites across the county, plus dozens of unofficial relief centers at churches, community centers, and mutual aid hubs. Matthew Romanowski makes two to three trips for water each week. I met him in downtown Asheville, where he was loading up on drinking water at a distribution site. Like most residents, he has running water, but it's non-potable. "Just dealing with getting water," he says, "takes a lot of time." Other residents rely on acquaintances with well water. Stanich-Holdren gets her household's potable water "from a friend's house that has a well, about 30 minutes outside of town." Likewise, I drive half an hour to my parents' house, which is also on a well, to shower, do laundry, and fill up on drinking water every few days. With the return of potable water more than a month away, we are buckling in for the long haul, accepting the time spent waiting in line or driving to get drinking water and the hassle of boiling water for household use for the foreseeable future.