Images and stories from Kerrville are seared in my mind.
There were the parents, shell-shocked and almost in a daze, waiting for news of their missing daughters, many of whom were swept away in flash flood waters. Some fathers even visited Camp Mystic themselves, searching the cabins for trinkets, friendship bracelets, anything they could to find to remember their children, and looking for bodies along the riverbank. Hundreds of other parents waited anxiously at reunification centers for their children, scattered among the dozen-or-so sleepaway summer camps that dot the Hill Country, many of which closed early for the summer after the flood.
There were the officials, who began to acknowledge that rescue operations were winding down, and only bodies would be recovered, for the most part at least, going forward. Tears filled the eyes of elected officials like U.S. Rep. Chip Roy, who visited the area every Fourth of July like so many other Texans in RV parks, hotels, and campsites along the Guadalupe River.
Countless others looked for friends and family members who were swept away in the early morning hours on Saturday, when 10-12 inches of rain fell on the Guadalupe River, causing it to reach its second-highest ever crest.
I was there on Saturday, watching families reunite and first responders digging through debris in Kerr County, after being called out to the area to report on the devastation for the Washington Post.
Inside a cabin at Camp Mystic. (Ronaldo Schemidt/AFP/Getty Images)
I heard about the teenage counselors who pushed their campers to safety, the camp directors who died saving counselors and campers, the man who bled to death from an injured arm after he broke through a window to save his family, and the hundreds of first responders who rescued more than 850 people.
Flash flooding is nothing new to this area, known unfortunately as “Flash Flood Alley,” and officials have said that the rain and rising water just came too quickly for people to have enough warning. The rushing water uprooted enormous trees, overturned vehicles, and swept people downstream — in one case, for about 20 miles — leaving swaths of debris on the riverbank.
Search crews looking for survivors in debris. (Jim Vondruska/Getty Images)
It was all so quintessentially Texas: The kids spending their summers tucked away at camp, learning how to be independent, trying new things, and making friends. All around them were people enjoying the holiday weekend away from their city lives. Then came the rising water and now, the absolute need for help.
As we head into a new week, officials are asking folks to stay away and let first responders continue to search for the missing. Questions have already been raised over whether officials could have done more, like installing alarm systems or ordering evacuations sooner, and getting answers will undoubtedly take time. But soon, we’ll get the chance to help out as the area rebuilds, and then, I’ll see you back in Kerrville.
