How We Went to the Mountains, Part 3

Flood, Part II

The roar of the river was becoming louder. Logs and debris bounced through the river flow; the water kept rising. The storm was furious with rain and wind. Mother went outside in front of the house to join the people gathering in the road to watch the rising water. Apprehensive, I remained staring out the kitchen window, fixed on the river and the low white bridge. Then it happened. A sudden, enormous logjam erupted against that bridge. With tremendous speed a scrambled pile of huge logs was thrown up and over the bridge, forming a solid dam. A pause of seconds, stillness, then a roar. Brown muddy water spilled over the logs and the river was everywhere violently, madly. It was approaching our house.

I was crying. People were running, some screaming, Mother shouted, “Run up the mountain. Go to the Turners’ house. I have to get the others. Run!” I ran, bounding and leaping up the road with superhuman strength born from my panic. The wind was a demon tearing at me.

Reaching the Turners’ house, I looked down and saw the bridge by our house lifted up by the roiling water. It split apart in the middle, exploded into pieces and was carried away as if it were a toy. Electric cables flew from their poles and became wild blue snakes everywhere, whipping and flying as they spit fire into the air.

Someone took me by the hand and led me upstairs. “There are babies here on the bed. Watch them,” I was told. Now, from the upstairs window I could see everything. People were running everywhere.

I saw a house floating by, its back door swinging. There came another house, another. I saw the building where my father taught. A huge piece had been grabbed out of it. I saw Mother carrying my little sister’s crib up the road.

In an enormous flash flood, the river reached its peak within about 30 minutes, destroying everything it touched. Afterward, the water remained at a high level. The three bridges were gone. Our section of town was isolated. There was no way to reach us because not only were we cut off by the water, but the mountain behind us was rugged terrain. Incredibly, there was no loss of life. Since the town is in a narrow canyon, everyone quickly got to higher ground. Before dark that day, Mother spied Daddy standing alone on Highway 49 out of town across the river, waving his arms. He and his students had escaped from the Wells Fargo building just minutes before its brick river wall was swept away.

Many people were without shelter. From my perspective as a child, I do not know how shelter was allocated. Mother, Scotty, and my baby sister Charlotte Anne stayed in a tiny two-room cottage that belonged to a young woman teacher. For the time being, the whole area had no outside aid. All telephone lines were down. It would take days before any help could arrive for our section; we were isolated by the water and the mountains behind. Since food was in short supply, people met and food was allocated—milk for children only.

Fortunately, our house was spared. Its placement on the raised site kept it out of the water. Although the water level remained high and it was not considered safe, Mother went back into the house to try to remove what she could. She dumped the contents of dresser drawers into sheets, bundled them up, and carried them uphill to the count clerk’s office next to the courthouse. Other people did the same. (Later on, it was an interesting scenario when everyone went to reclaim their belongings, some of which were commingled.)

In a few days a line was shot across the river, and a “Flying Dutchman” installed. Daddy was one of the first across. The storm being over, the water receded and we were able to receive food delivered by that line. Soon, a swinging footbridge was constructed so that now we were able to cross the river. This bridge was our only means of access to the rest of the town until a new steel bridge could be constructed months later. Reached by steps, the bridge was high, as I recall, and it was only wide enough for one person to walk over it at a time. As you walked across, you held with both hands onto a cable on each side of you. In my mind today, it was indeed scary and dangerous high above the rapids of the river, especially when it swung in a storm or when it was slippery with snow and ice. But I had to cross it several times a day. We all did. I became fearless; it was an adventure.

To be continued...