When the Guadalupe River surged through Texas Hill Country last summer, Elida Sierra Lutz and her three children were swept into the deadly flooding like debris in the current.
The family fought for three hours last July Fourth to stay alive after more than a summer’s worth of rain fell overnight on bone-dry soil, pushing the waterway from about 3 feet to 30 feet in just 45 minutes.
It wasn’t long after they were rescued that they realized everything they’d brought camping with them was gone: the black zippered hoodie Elida’s 18-year-old son was rarely seen without, plus his wallet, glasses and cell phone; her daughter’s Nintendo devices, lifejacket and a pair of white Crocs for which the 10-year-old had handpicked charms; even their travel trailer.
About 10 miles away at Heart O’ the Hills, a girl’s summer camp along the river, program director Bailey McEachern returned from a scheduled break between sessions to a similar scene – amid shock the flood had killed the camp’s cherished director and co-owner.
The ferocious waters had swallowed key pieces of the camp’s rich history: cabin signs; 1950s-era sterling-silver necklaces with thunderbird and crossed-arrow pedants worn by each sisterhood’s Firelighter leader; a trophy known as The Cup, awarded at the end of each term.
