How do you start an interview with someone who has just lost everything?

With the floodwaters just receded, the stench of mould beginning to creep into the hollowed-out buildings that survived two days of pummelling winds, and bloated corpses still being recovered, that was a question I was forced to grapple with last week in the Bahamas.

There is no correct answer. The best I have come up with, in my time covering mass shootings, natural disasters, and police violence in the US, is that you take a step back and allow the interviewee time, space and freedom to think about your questions – and you don’t even start if they don’t want to share.

Last Friday, I was among a small group of journalists to visit the destroyed town of High Rock on the island of Grand Bahama. We were the first reporters to make it there after the eye of Hurricane Dorian, a monster category 5 storm that destroyed parts of this picture-perfect archipelago, ripped through the area.

It was a scene of complete devastation with most houses reduced to their concrete foundations. In one remaining building, I met Erica Roberts, a 41-year-old who still bore cuts on her arms and face after having clung to a tree branch for hours to escape the storm surge. She had not heard from seven relatives, including two sons, whom she feared were dead.

Women walking eastbound on their way to High Rock in the eastern side of Grand Bahama island. Hurricane Dorian caused considerable damages to the island of Grand Bahama especially to the eastern side. Photograph: Angel Valentin/The Guardian

But in this moment of unfolding crisis, she was incredibly clear: she wanted her story to be heard by as many people as possible.

Which brings you to the next question. What do you ask?

There is increasing scientific consensus that the climate crisis is making hurricanes stronger. Warming sea and air can contribute to a storm’s intensity. Rising sea levels can make storm surge more deadly. The number of severe Atlantic hurricanes has roughly doubled in the past 20 years. Dorian was the fourth category 5 to make landfall in the past three years. It shares the record for the most intense storm in history.

Before we arrived on Grand Bahama I had already asked my editors in New York to what extent we should be asking survivors of their views on the climate crisis. It’s a delicate balance to strike, injecting an issue that can be perceived as deeply political into a personal tragedy.

The decision was to ask tentatively and give people there the chance to share their views. Most outlets covering this story have not mentioned the climate in dispatches from the ground. Personally, I couldn’t imagine not mentioning it.

And numerous people I spoke to were keen to share their thoughts, most of them very aware of the science.

“I think the climate is playing a big role in all of this,” Roberts told me. “I’ve recycled all my life. I use less plastic. And think about less emissions. I’ve always been committed. But the world is not.”

Gaining access to remote areas hit by natural disasters, like those in the Bahamas, can be a tricky thing to navigate. When Dorian’s path was less certain I was dispatched by the New York news desk to cover it from the United States.

I flew into Savannah, Georgia, when it seemed almost certain the storm would hit the coastline in that region, but hurricanes can change course quickly and within 12 hours we realised that the Bahamas had been so badly hit we needed to get there. I drove about 500 miles to Miami and jumped on a flight to the Bahamian capital, Nassau.

Erica Roberts in her home in High Rock, Bahamas. Photograph: The Guardian

But even from here, accessing the islands in the north-western region of the Bahamas was almost impossible. Royal Marine helicopter rescue crews were swamped with evacuees. The airports in the region were either destroyed or flooded. Some news networks were paying in excess of $10,000 (£8,000) just to fly over the region to see the scale of devastation.

Eventually, an opportunity presented itself. Word got out that a Royal Caribbean cruise liner was destined for Grand Bahama to deliver aid, and would allow a small group of journalists to embed with them.

It was a surreal experience, stepping from the luxury of a giant cruise ship into the devastation of a disaster zone with no running water or power. But the ship allowed us to get out to some of the most remote communities destroyed by Dorian. I filed my first story from the seat of a humid minivan, attempting, mostly in vain, to connect to the internet via hotspot.

My colleague David Smith, who is currently on the Abaco Islands, another archipelago destroyed by Dorian, is embedded with British aid workers at a medical centre in Treasure Cay, using satellite internet to send his dispatches.

Our coverage of Dorian required coordination with journalists around the globe. We worked with reporters and live bloggers in New York, London and Sydney, collaborated with a brilliant photojournalist, Angel Valentin, throughout the trip, and consulted with technical support staff who offered frequent assistance on communications issues.

But the most challenging aspect of this reporting is the inability to communicate with the people you leave behind. Erica Roberts, like others I interviewed, had lost all her possessions, meaning she had no phone or internet access.

We spoke for only 10 minutes as I hurried back to catch a boat. Although the government of the Bahamas has pledged to evacuate everyone on the islands most affected, should they choose to go, most people who survived have had their lives altered forever.

The Guardian almost always returns to areas hit by natural disasters to examine recovery efforts in the long term. I expect the Bahamas will be no different.

In the meantime, here’s how you can help the relief efforts in the Bahamas.