Tom Beckett gestures toward a window on the third floor of the Durham County Main Library.
“We’re in the middle of a geomagnetic storm,” he announces.
The room chuckles. There are no swirling vortexes or apocalyptic clouds in sight.
“It looks OK out there,” Beckett continues. “But if you want to communicate by shortwave radio, that’s a problem.”
It’s a cool April evening, and we’re in the final moments of an introductory session on amateur radio—ham radio, as it’s also commonly known—where 30 attendees have gathered to learn the basics.
This happens to be a rare occasion when ham radio, typically the hero during hurricanes and power outages, is itself hampered by a storm. For over a century, these radio systems have provided communication channels when traditional infrastructure fails.
The appeal of technology that works without relying on the internet or cell networks is increasingly reaching new audiences. Interest in ham radio surged during the COVID-19 pandemic: license applications spiked, and online courses reportedly saw 700 percent enrollment increases. Today’s climate of uncertainty has introduced new vulnerabilities—from cybersecurity threats and fragile power grids to extreme weather—lending renewed relevance to communication systems that work when others don’t.
Tonight, every seat in the room is filled. When I registered for the event, there were 27 people ahead of me on the waitlist. I only made it in thanks to press credentials.
In the library’s innovation lab, where we sit, 3D printers whir steadily in the background. A kid plays quietly on a Nintendo DS in the corner. But all eyes are on the presenters discussing technology from another era.
“I’d been interested off and on, and then Helene came through,” says Beckett, who got his license last month. “Out in the mountains, there was no power, no cell service. It was the amateur operators who coordinated all of the relief efforts.”
Beckett frequents several local clubs, including the Durham FM Association (DFMA), which meets monthly at Bullock’s Bar-B-Cue. The group maintains a Mobile Communications Unit designed for emergency communications and partners with the Red Cross during disasters. This June, the DFMA will host Field Day in tandem with the Orange County Radio Amateurs (OCRA), where operators test their skills in simulated emergency scenarios.
“We’re not first responders,” says Tim Rodgers, an experienced operator who also frequents several local clubs and co-led the library presentation. “We don’t claim that title. But we are there if needed.”
It’s not all emergency stuff. When I walk into the session several minutes late, DFMA president Bob Cook is explaining how ham radio operators can bounce signals off of passing meteor showers.
“There’s nothing between you and 200 miles up,” Cook says. When the International Space Station is passing overhead, he adds, you can hear astronauts talking.
Ham radio is also essential for special events, says Cook—parades, county fairs, road races, and other large events where cell service can become overwhelmed. During a Tour de Cure cycling event some time ago, he picked up a stranded rider in an area with no cell service.
And it’s a perfect hobby for people who like toying around with things. Rodgers, who grew up watching his grandparents use radios to communicate between separate vehicles (“I felt like, ‘I love that. I want to do that,’” Rodgers recalls), points to a 2024 creation—the kv4p HT, a circuit board inside a 3D-printed case that transforms an Android phone into a modern ham radio transceiver. The device enables voice calls and texting completely off the grid.
“That’s a lot of what ham radio has been for the past however many years—creating things, trying things,” Rodgers says.
In the audience, one attendee says they like to go camping in West Virginia’s signal-free wilderness and wonders if an antenna could be attached to a drone for remote communication. Others inquire about bouncing signals off satellites or the moon.
But for all the fun and experimentation, it’s during times of crisis that ham radio truly proves its worth. After sharing stories about special events and hobby achievements, Cook, sporting a neon orange shirt and a tan cap adorned with a peace sign pin, circles back to how operators are able to help during emergencies like Hurricane Helene.
“We’re able to use our own power, our own gear, our own antenna,” he says. “People are able to talk through networks to us and say, ‘Hey, I’m looking for this person. I know they live here. Can you give them a message? Have they checked in?’ A lot of the shelters keep lists where people check in, and they want to let others know they’re OK.”
As the session draws to a close, Beckett stands to offer his perspective as a newcomer. Beyond its lifesaving potential and the camaraderie it creates, he sees something more fundamental in the appeal of ham radio.
“There’s this old New Yorker cartoon of a dog sitting at a keyboard, talking to other dogs on the computer, and no one knows you’re a dog,” Beckett says. “Radio is kind of like that. It’s mysterious. You are talking into the void and making human contact with somebody you’ve never met. And now, you don’t even know if it’s human contact.”
“There’s this old New Yorker cartoon of a dog sitting at a keyboard, talking to other dogs on the computer, and no one knows you’re a dog. Radio is kind of like that. It’s mysterious. You are talking into the void and making human contact with somebody you’ve never met.”
He says this literally minutes before news breaks that scientists have detected potential signs of life on a distant planet. It feels like a fitting coincidence. Ham radio operators seem to exist at the intersection of past and future—using century-old technology while preparing for what’s next, sensing coming storms before the rest of us notice the clouds gathering.
Beckett tells the room that getting licensed isn’t difficult. With 30 minutes of daily practice using flashcards, he was ready for the exam. (“You don’t need to know Morse code, although I’ve learned there are good reasons to learn Morse code.”)
The certification exam costs $35, he says, about the same price as his compact handheld radio.
In fact, he says, folks might consider buying a radio sooner rather than later. The company that manufactured his device is rapidly liquidating its stock right now, responding to the Trump administration’s recent tariffs.
Reach Staff Writer Lena Geller at lgeller@indyweek.com. Comment on this story at backtalk@indyweek.com.