The Central Texas flooding on Friday has been devastating to dozens of families, and I have watched with horror as the death count rises. From the pictures I’ve seen of the mountains of debris that litter the banks of numerous rivers near me, I know it will be some time before the missing are accounted for. Some may never be found, as debris and bodies wash down to area lakes. More than two dozen young campers remain missing and it’s unknown how many others no one has yet realized are missing.
The heartbreak for the families of the dead, displaced, or missing is unfathomable. Relief efforts are just beginning and will continue for some time. My husband and I have donated to several organizations taking part in those efforts. He is a Red Cross volunteer, and we know they’re already there. There are many other worthy groups providing aid as well, and we’ll contribute to as many as we can.
While other waterways flooded and people perished in communities to the east of Kerr County, in Burnet, Travis, and Williamson County, where I live, the Guadalupe River was the deadliest.
I have a long history with the Guadalupe River, having camped near it, tubed or rafted in it, and brought youth groups to enjoy it for close to 50 years. It was the site of many joyful moments with people I care about.
There are dangerous whitewater rapids on the Guadalupe, scored according to the level of danger posed by water levels. Most years saw at least one or two drownings. For the most part, we avoided the worst rapids at Hueco Falls, a Class III rapid when the water level is high. It was manageable at other times. I don’t remember if Hueco was related to the fall from a raft I experienced a few decades ago, or whether it was due to one of the smaller rapids. In any case, I struggled to resurface and be hauled back into the raft. It was memorably frightening—I’m not a strong swimmer.
Despite my experience, I really can’t imagine the terror on the morning of July 4 felt by hundreds of people camping or living near the Guadalupe. The water level was reported to have risen close to 30 feet in an hour. There will be ongoing debates about whether the weather services had adequate staff to warn those in harm’s way or whether they’d issued warnings early enough, but I don’t think anyone could have predicted that swift a rise. No one is prepared for the power of that volume of water headed downstream.
There are a couple of truths I see in this tragedy: sometimes what you love can also kill you, and in the aftermath of widespread heartbreak, communities typically come together to supply what is needed. Recovery will be slow for those impacted. It will take time for victims to regain some sense of normalcy—those who lost loved ones will never feel “normal” again.
Please pray for those affected if you are so inclined or contribute to relief efforts as you are able. Here’s a link to some ways you can help.
Janice Airhart 