In Central Texas, just downstream from the confluence of the San Marcos and Blanco rivers, Tom Goynes enjoys showing guests at his campground the “symphony of birds,” as he refers to it, in the mornings, which includes the cardinals and woodpeckers. He frequently spots coyotes, bobcats, and deer.
Mr. Goynes, 74, who has run campgrounds on the San Marcos River since 1972, said, “You’re surrounded by God and everything that he’s created.” It’s far superior to being in a cathedral.
The rivers that cut through the usually semiarid landscape of the Hill Country region of Texas are a defining characteristic. They have long provided a refreshing break from the scorching sun, access to animals, and a beauty that may have a spiritually uplifting effect.
The tragedy was a sudden reminder of the danger that has always existed in an area known as Flash Flood Alley when some of those rivers swiftly rose early on July 4, releasing floodwaters that killed over 100 people and left scores more missing.
However, the significant death toll also demonstrated the allure of these waterways. cottages constructed along the banks, vacation cottages, and popular sleep-away camps were all destroyed by the floodwaters. Many of those homes belonged to immigrants who had moved to this area of Texas with hopes of a more rustic way of life, while others were owned by families who had staked their claims years earlier.
The content of the article is not being retrieved.
Please make sure that JavaScript is enabled in your browser.
We appreciate your patience as we check access. Please log out of Reader mode and sign in to your Times account, or subscribe to The Times in its entirety.
We appreciate your patience as we check access.
Are you a subscriber already?Sign in.
Do you want to read every Times article?Sign up.
