The familiar tunes of Johnny Cash echoed through Howdy’s Bar and Chill in Kerrville on a recent Thursday night, as patrons enjoyed drinks and conversation. Behind the bar, owners Lorena Guillén and Bob Canales served beers, their faces lit with forced smiles. Outside, the wooden patio gleamed from days of relentless rain, while the Guadalupe River roared beyond, a constant reminder of the devastation it had brought just a year prior.

The river, once a source of joy and livelihood, had transformed into a symbol of loss for the couple. In July 2026, the Blue Oak RV Park their beloved business nestled downhill from the bar, was obliterated by a catastrophic flood. The deluge claimed more than 130 lives across Central Texas, making it one of the deadliest floods in U.S. history. Now, as the river swelled once more, the wounds of the past year threatened to reopen.

The Flood That Changed Everything

Guillén’s voice trembled as she recalled the events of last July. Around 4 a.m., she and Canales braved the rushing floodwaters, banging on RV doors to rouse sleeping campers. The scene was chaotic, with the Guadalupe River swiftly consuming the park. A family of four, the Burgesses found themselves trapped on a small midstream island. John Burgess clung to one of his young sons as the waters raged around them.

Canales shouted, “Throw me the baby,” reaching out desperately. But before he could help, the Burgess family was swept away by the relentless current. Their bodies were later found downstream. From higher ground, Guillén and Canales watched in horror as cabins were torn from their foundations and RVs were ripped from their parking spots, the cries for help drowned out by the river’s roar.

Rebuilding Lives and Businesses

The physical destruction was immediate, but the emotional toll took much longer to surface. After months of rebuilding, Guillén sought treatment for depression and post-traumatic stress disorder. “It took a while, in my case, to realize that I needed some help,” she admitted. With the support of her medical team, she has been navigating the challenging road to recovery.

The flood also forced Guillén and Canales from their home beside the bar. They relocated to Bandera about 40 minutes away, where their new home sits on higher ground, safe from the river’s reach. Despite the distance, the trauma of the flood followed them. This week, the nearby Medina River rose nearly 16 feet, a stark reminder of the power of nature.

On Thursday night, Guillén and Canales served food and drinks as they always had, the Guadalupe rushing just beyond the patio. The midstream island, normally visible, was submerged under swollen waters. Looking toward the river, they no longer saw rows of RVs lining the bank but the community that was lost. The park had been a vibrant hub where long-term residents greeted each other every morning, the smell of barbecue drifting through the campground. In the evenings, neighbors gathered outside their RVs, enjoying music from the outdoor stage at the bar. On weekends, families floated the Guadalupe before stopping in for food and drinks.

“It was absolutely beautiful,” Guillén reminisced.

Adapting to a New Reality

The couple has no plans to rebuild the RV park as it once was. Instead, they are transforming the riverfront into a space for day visitors, with plans for an amphitheater and a flea market. Future structures will be built with concrete and other materials that can better withstand flooding. There will be no overnight guests staying near the river, Guillén emphasized.

“Now it’s flooding more often and more aggressive,” she said. “We need to realize what we have and build in a safe way…because it will come again.”

Recovery had seemed to gain momentum until the Guadalupe rose again. “It was coming back,” Guillén said. “We were very excited a couple months ago that for the first time we were able to cut the grass. But we got another flood.”

As recovery continues, so does the effort to prepare for the next flood. A new network of gauges tracks rainfall and river conditions, and flood sirens have been installed across the region. Some of those sirens were donated and installed by River Sentry near the former RV park, separate from the state-funded warning system created under Senate Bill 3 one of several flood-safety measures approved by lawmakers after the catastrophe last year.

At around 3:30 a.m. Thursday morning, the sirens sounded. “A lot of our neighbors did evacuate,” Guillén said. “It saved some lives.”

With the new warning systems in place, Guillén feels better prepared for whatever comes next. In the meantime, she and her husband are focused on keeping Howdy’s open. Business hasn’t fully recovered since last year’s flood. “We already used all our savings, so we’re at a higher risk now than last year to lose everything,” Guillén said. “We’re struggling, but we’re surviving somehow.”

She knows the Guadalupe will rise again. The difference, she hopes, is that the community will be better prepared. “We’re thinking from now on, every July, we’re gonna have a flood party,” Guillén joked. “Let’s make lemonade, right?”