One Year After Fiona

One year ago today, Hurricane Fiona changed this community in ways we're still measuring.

September 24, 2022 is a date that every Islander carries now. You remember where you were when the power went out, when the wind hit a pitch you'd never heard before, when you opened the door in the morning and didn't recognize your own road. We all have that story. A year later, the stories haven't faded — and neither has the work.

Drive through North Rustico today and you'll still see blue tarps. They've weathered through four seasons now, patching roofs that haven't had their turn with a contractor yet. One roofing company we work with told us that 75% of their current clients are still dealing with Fiona damage — a full twelve months on. The queue is long, the labour is stretched thin, and the materials keep moving out of our yard as fast as they come in. Progress is real, but it's slow.

The breakwater is still broken. Fishermen dealt with a dangerous harbour channel all spring — shallow water, submerged debris, boats running aground on what used to be a clear passage. The federal government just awarded the repair tender at $8.8 million, but the work isn't expected to be complete until 2027. That's five years after the storm. Five years of fishermen navigating a harbour that isn't safe. It's hard to be patient about that.

Two weeks ago, post-tropical storm Lee tracked toward the Maritimes and every stomach on the Island dropped. You could feel it — the collective held breath, the quiet checking of generators, the flashlights moved back to the kitchen counter. Lee passed through on September 16th and spared us. Minimal damage. We exhaled together. But the anxiety was real, and it told us something about what Fiona left in our nervous systems, not just our rooflines.

Here's what I keep coming back to, though. In the days after Fiona, before the power was back, before the roads were clear, people were already helping. Chainsaws running at first light. Hot meals shared across driveways. Strangers checking on seniors. That part of the story hasn't faded either. It's who we are. It's who we've always been.

The recovery is measured in years, not months. We knew that early on, and it's proven true. But we're getting there. One repaired roof, one cleared lot, one rebuilt wharf at a time. Thank you to everyone who has been part of it — the contractors working long days, the volunteers who showed up from away, the neighbours who never stopped showing up at all.

We're still here. We're still open. And we're still in this together.