The most exciting storm by far was the great Estes Park flood in 1976. We followed what seemed to be the same storm all the way into Colorado and into our ultimate destination, Estes Park. The storms always became most severe in the afternoon and into the evening, clearing to blue skies in the morning leaving the impression that the bad weather was over, but it always returned in the afternoon and with the same ferocity as the night before. In Estes Park things seemed normal as it always has been and we went about the traditional routine of miniature golf, go carts and eating in the usual plain cuisine tourist restaurants.
Dad wanted to stay in a cabin down in the Big Thompson river canyon, The Chief, which had a Indian head for a sign logo and was a set of cabins we had stayed before the year I went on the trip with my friend Oliver. The cabins offered not much more than a bed and a place next to the river to fish and look at, but this year was an Olympic Games year and we had been following some of the events, participating in a McDonalds contest where we could win free food if the American athlete won a medal, so it was vitally important to keep track of the events. The cabins Dad planned to stay at had electricity and lights, and that was about it for technology. Mom just about had a fit and was refusing to stay in a desolate cabin with no TV while the rest of us went hiking and go carting. So my Dad graciously agreed to have us stay in a more modern motel a few miles up and much closer to town. Note: We checked into the Mountain 8 Inn for the first time that year, and Dad has stayed in that same motel consecutively ever since. Things were relatively happier now that we had visibly upgraded accommodations and television to pass the times of boredom.
That night it rained harder than I’ve ever seen it rain in Estes Park in my whole life. It was actually quite exciting and fun, and we watched the downpour from the balcony. Then a bolt of lightening hit the swimming pool, maybe 50 yards away from us. It was so close I can remember noticing that lightening looked solid, like a tree trunk, but blindingly bright. The immediate thunder practically knocked us on our butts, and even Dad was a bit taken back, we all went into the room and watched the rain from the window while the Olympics played on TV. It rained all night and Ted in the middle of the night got up, went to the window and started having a conversation, waking everybody up, and then he went back to sleep. We mentioned it to him the next day and he denies remembering any of it happening.
The next day was no different than what we had come to expect, the skies were blue and the sun was shining. Dad, Ted and I, had planned to hike Longs Peak that day and things seemed ideal to go out and spend time in the Rocky Mountains. We knew it rained a lot last night and it wasn’t surprising to expect there to be a bit of a mess in town the next day, evidence of flooding and water damage was not surprising and we generally ignored it as typical as we bought some supplies at the market and went into the park for our hike. Generally you are supposed to start very early in the morning to hike Longs Peak so you can make it up and back and beat the lightening that usually occurs in the afternoon (more people die from lightening on high peaks than from falling) But we didn’t intend to make it to the summit and the late start was irrelevant. We hiked up the trail through the forested part and got up above the timber line where there was a vast field of boulders leading to the peak. By this time the clouds began to roll in and the weather was looking gloomier, Dad thinking he was vastly familiar with the terrain decided to take a shortcut and bypassing the defined trail across the boulder field, which is fine if you can see ahead of you and where you want to go. But the clouds moved in fast and we found ourselves in dense fog. Quickly we became disoriented and concerned about which direction to move to, that and the fact that the danger of lightening was a real threat we agreed it was best to make our way back down. Even id someone moved a few feet ahead of you, you could lose sight of them through the fog, and without a defined trail we relied on dead reckoning to make our down. When we finally reached a trail we were still confused about which direction was back down, or leading up to the summit. We all agreed to a direction which happily turned out to be correct and we descended below the cloud cover and the fog gradually cleared so we could see far enough ahead of us to be confident again. But as we got below the cloud we entered into the rain, and the rest of the 4 mile decent to the trail parking lot was through constant and fairly heavy rain. Of course we were unprepared for rain and only wore our hiking clothes and a light jacket appropriate for typical summer weather, so the hike down was somewhat miserable, cold and very wet. Thankfully we were going down hill which at least made the hiking easier and let us think about other things to distract us from the cold rain. So silently and steadily we made our way down the mountain to the car.
By the time we got back to the motel we were freezing and even the hot shower had little effect on the chill for a long time, it was not a good hike. And when we returned, my mom was slightly panicked with the news about the town that we had ignored on our way to the mountain. Apparently it had rained something like 14 inches in 2 hours last night, the town was severely flooded and very damaged. The dam leading down the canyon with the cabin we were supposed to stay in had broken and severely flooded the canyon. We realized that we would've been staying in an area hit worst by the floods and mudslides,but changed at the last minute at my mom’s insistence. We found out that many people are dead and missing… no exaggeration. Across the highway from the motel we were watching National Guard helicopters landing for rescue missions, and later bringing bodies of victims to be transported to other locations. Mom was very upset and wanted to go home, but it looked like access out of Estes Park was limited for a day or two and we had to stay for a day or two.
All telephone communications were cut off and food and water was being rationed, It was all very exciting. We went across the way to a little restaurant, and Mom wanted to get something comforting from the bar, and we met this guy who was helping in the rescue efforts, he drove a blazer, (which we now call a SUV), but at that time only people with a reason to drive a blazer drove one. He was part of the CB radio organization in town and was helping with communication efforts as well. My mom got into a conversation with him and I guess he was generally a nice guy, kind of a tough truck driving macho man, and he offered to relay a message to our families, via CB radio down to Boulder, saying we were okay. Dad began to talk with him and was tempted to help out in the rescue efforts down in the canyon. The guy seemed a little reluctant taking Dad and explained that rescuers generally came equipped with their own rescue gear, like ropes, shovels and appropriate clothing, so this effectively discouraged Dad and he was forced to watch the excitement from the sidelines.
When we finally contacted Ted’s family a few days later, they were more confused by the message that got sent to them, knowing we were in a flood but not the extent of the disaster, but assuming we were okay. The call they received was vague and short of information and only concerned and panicked them further, but they were all relieved we were okay.
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