One year ago, a billion gallons of water poured down a mountain, scraped away the dirt, the trees, the rocks, and any living thing in a flood of mud and debris. It landed at the entrance to Johnson’s Shut-Ins, slammed into the hill on one end of the park, swirled around taking away every last bit of the Ranger’s house, including the ranger, his wife, and their three small children.
A pickup and a large truck on the road suddenly found themselves adrift in the early morning darkness, as water shoved them into the field across from the Shut-Ins. A dump truck managed to stay grounded.
The water poured past and through the Shut-Ins–ripping away the campgrounds, pouring over the endangered fens, splashing against the hills on either side; dumping five feet of mud and boulders the size of cars in its path.
The residents of Lesterville waited, anxiously, to see if the lower reservoir held. It did.
If this had happened in the summer…
If the reservoir had not held…
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