9.22.13 Riding the Roller Coaster

Today I’m sitting in a beautiful, completely furnished home that has been given to us to live in and use as our own. What an incredible gift. Saturday when we met the owners’ daughter to get keys and a tour, once again, tears sprang to my eyes. (When I named my blog “Flash Flood Colorado” I had no idea that this title would have a double meaning!) These tears were tears of gratefulness.  Steve works out of an office above our garage at home, and now has a basement office set up where he is doing business almost as usual. I have a load of laundry in the washer and another in the dryer. It feels close to normal life. We feel very blessed, especially as we know there are many people around us that are still in shelters or temporary housing.

Last week was a roller coaster of activity and emotion. We met with FEMA, but have no response from them, yet. We’ve been in contact with neighbors and are saddened with those that are still without housing. We’ve had moments of despair, but, we have been encouraged by all the phone calls, prayers, and offers from friends, old and new.

The lack of information was a frustration. Finally, on Friday, we started to get real info. A web page had been set up for the residents of our neighborhood, and our county had a meeting for all the evacuees. The statistics of how many people are affected by the flooding (several thousand, in our county alone) was more comprehendible when we saw the mass of people sitting in the auditorium for this meeting. Many different agencies were represented at the meeting, and I wanted to puke at all the political blathering. I might not be able to hold my tongue if another politician refers to the evacuees as being “resilient.” We need to see action, not hear platitudes! BUT, we were able to hear some encouraging words. CDOT plans to rebuild the roads as quickly as possible, giving residents access to homes by Dec. 1, and the sheriff plans to patrol the evacuated communities.

News had reached the outside world, that some of our neighbors had stayed and built a mile long single lane 4-wheel road from the highway, over a ridge and into another neighborhood that had road access. Quite a few people had been able to drive over on Saturday, bringing vehicles and other personal items. On Saturday, we heard of a group that planned to drive as far as possible and then hike into the neighborhood, also retrieving what they could. We made plans to join them, and obtained a pass from the Sheriff’s office to drive through the restricted area. Perhaps we would be able to get another vehicle out.

Early Sunday morning, we met Captain just outside of Lyons and headed up in his rental jeep.  We showed our passes at the National Guard check point and drove through Lyons, unable to see the town in the pre-dawn dark. Apple Valley Road and Blue Mountain road were open, and we headed up through the neighborhood that occupies the other side of Pinewood’s Ridge. We found the new road with a gate across it, but upon further inspection, the gate was not locked, so on we went.  Dawn was just emerging as we slowly picked our way along the bumpy, bendy, one-lane dirt road. Captain commented that he hoped we wouldn’t meet someone coming the other direction, and within 30 seconds, we did. After backing up into a small turnout, we let them pass and were on our way again. Soon, the road dumped out onto highway 36 about a mile below Pinewood.

Steve's first view of the new river bed

It was about 7am as we drove down Kiowa St., and saw neighbor Steve who told us that the last group of residents would be leaving in a convoy at 8am, and then the gate would be locked. We didn’t have much time. Neighbor Steve offered to drive us on the trail to the “island” with his ATV, but we determined that was not the best use of our time, so the only other option was to wade across the river if we wanted to get to our house. And that’s what we did. The river had gone down considerably, but was still much larger than normal. We picked up a couple of sticks in the debris to stabilize ourselves and away we went, getting wet up to our mid-thighs. A deer followed us as if to say, “I’m glad you’re back!”

The house looked just like it had when I had left, with the exception that the refrigerator and freezer were empty. We had 30 minutes to gather a few things that we could carry across the river: a few more clothes, a pair of shoes for each of us, important papers, my laptop, a quilt I was working on (my form of stress relief), and a bridesmaid dress that Leah would need in a few months. We also looked for things that might freeze and burst, setting them in the bathtub. We didn’t, however, have time to winterize the heating system and plumbing. That will require another trip. And, getting a vehicle out was impossible.

Leaving highway 36 onto the new road

This was Steve’s first look at the property since the flood, and he was amazed at the impact. He had heard descriptions from Captain and me, and had seen our pictures and videos, but seeing it was a different story.  Steve wasn’t able to put into words all that he was thinking and feeling, but he did say that he was feeling better about it all after being there.

the convoy

We lined up in the convoy and drove out with about 75 other vehicles. It was a long and slow process as we had to wait several times for all to catch up. 

A section of highway 36 completely gone.

Retracing our steps in the daylight was eye-opening.  We saw destruction in the town of Lyons:  houses that were twisted, caved-in, and swept away; debris piles left by the receding water that held chairs, sofa cushions, and other household items amid tree limbs and soggy grasses; vehicles crushed by rushing water and fallen trees, with mud and muck stuck in windows and bumpers; a water-logged piano lying in a yard. We caught a few glimpses of the damage to the highway, large sections fallen into the river, and a bridge with bedrock swept out from underneath its supports. On the main roads, we saw heavy equipment, utility trucks and law enforcement, all trying to do their part in the clean up. Sobered, I thanked God that my piano was safe in my living room, my sofa cushions were still on my sofa, and our vehicles, although inaccessible, were still safe in our garage.  

Debris field in Lyons (look closely to see a piano)

The beep of the dryer brings me back to the present, and normal life goes on…a new normal. This new normal includes intense thankfulness for safety, shelter and gracious people. This is a lesson from the roller coaster ride that I hope I never forget!