The Big Flood

Ten years ago, I was witness to the power of nature when it’s out of control. It had been raining for two days when I came up to the cabin to see if it had floated away yet. When I got there, a quarter of the living room had water leaking from the ceiling: falling on the carpet, dripping down from around the fireplace, and soaking the antique side table and wooden floor. I called the man who had installed my roof a few years before, and he drove out from Estes Park, threw a tarp over the chimney, and miraculously the leaks stopped.

But that was the last time anyone would be able to get in and out of Meeker Park for four days because that night the storm unleashed its full fury, enough rain falling on top of Mount Meeker to cause the landslide that is still visible. My neighbor who lives on the creek told me that he heard chaos all night: trees and boulders crashing down from above.

The next morning, the rain had slowed, and we went to observe the damage: the valley flooded by what used to be a creek small enough to jump across, and the gaping hole over Cabin Creek where there had been a bridge the day before (left). In the other direction, north, the rains had carved a deep enough hole in the dirt road to make it impassable. We were trapped but we didn’t know for how long, and we didn’t know if we were the only ones affected by this devastating storm, because our phone lines and Internet were down.

It's a strange feeling to be stranded, to have no communication with the outside world. It leaves you in a state of unknowing, unsure what to do, what will happen next. The few neighbors that were here that week started to share as much information as we could. One group from Louisiana, who had unfortunately picked a bad time to take a vacation in Colorado, got partial TV reception, and so we found out that the flood had affected other parts of the state.

Only later would we find out that at least three of the canyons that lead to Allenspark and Estes Park were partially destroyed and impassable; and that the town of Lyons, north of Boulder, was cut off from the rest of the world by the flooding of two streams on either side of town, which had engulfed the town in mud and destroyed a trailer court near one of the creeks. Only later would we learn that 18 inches of rain had fallen—more than our yearly average precipitation. Four people died in the floods, 11,000 people were evacuated, some by helicopter; 18,000 homes were damaged or destroyed. The destruction was later calculated at about $2 billion. Weather analysts, searching for words to describe the torrential rains, deemed it “biblical.”

On the edge of Estes Park, raging Fish Creek had knocked out parts of the road (above). When I saw the damage several weeks later, I was stunned to see up close what water can do when there's no stopping it: leaving whole chunks of asphalt in disarray, with mud and sand thrown to the sides. Upriver the flood had washed away a beaver lodge, and I still wonder what happened to the animals.

It took years to rebuild the South St. Vrain Canyon, my main route from the valley to the cabin. Driving through the canyon today, I can still see the places where the wall of water careened across the canyon and carved out one hillside at a depth of at least 50 feet. I try to imagine this flood filling up the canyon where the river now is not more than a foot deep in most places. Luckily, the damage was done at night, so no cars were tossed by the flood; no lives lost here.  

After the rains stopped, the sun came out. I wanted everything to be normal again, and all the right signs were there: a brilliant fall day with the aspens changing color. But it wasn’t normal, because these floods occurred in September, one of the driest months of the year; the amount of rain that fell was unprecedented; and several days after the rains stopped water was still pooled everywhere. I badly wanted to hike among the golden aspen, like I do every fall, but I couldn’t get up in the hills, because the flooded creeks made it impossible.

But nothing is normal anymore. I’ve come to realize that the 2013 flood was just the first of disasters caused by climate change that I’ve witnessed. I know it won’t be the last.

Comments

[SusanR]

Glad you got that tarp on your roof when you did; sounds like the next day he couldn't have gotten out of Estes to help you. I can't imagine being trapped up there with no communication and not knowing what was going on elsewhere, roads out, etc. I don't remember ever hearing about a landslide on Mt. Meeker. But there was so much news from so many places ... I do remember the slide on Twin Sisters that you can see from the highway, but don't remember when that happened.

Is that Hwy 7 you take up from Lyons? That was closed for so long I almost forgot it exists. Usually now I head up through Boulder, Nederland, then north, taking my time and enjoying the drive all the way to Estes. Going home I head straight out to Lyons and south on I-25. By then I'm tired and want to get home as fast as I can.

It would have been so great to have my own place up there. I just didn't manage to move here while I was still young enough to pursue it. I've now gotten very attached to my doctors, nearby pharmacies and grocery stores, etc.

[shoney]

Thank you for another thoughtful pieces with great photos. It brings back memories of how the flood affected out Chautauqua neighborhood....and more recently, this past winter, our California coast flooding. Nature is powerful!

[Kathy Kaiser]

Susan, the landslide on Mount Meeker and Twin Sisters happened the same night. I'm guessing it didn't make any news because it was such a local phenomenon, outshadowed by what happened in Lyons. Being cut off from any communications was a challenge but a novelty too. Because I wasn't in any real danger, it felt like an adventure.

Hwy 7 goes up from Lyons to Allenspark. It's been cut off over the years, first by the flood and then by the construction. I would urge you to try it some time; it's a beautiful rocky canyon.
I feel so lucky to have bought my cabin before the real estate boom. Even though it feels like semi-wilderness, I'm only 10 miles from Estes Park with all its amenities.

[Kathy Kaiser]

Thanks, Shoney. I had forgotten the flood affected the Chautauqua neighborhood--and you.