May 23May 23 29 minutes ago, Hate said: 24 minutes ago, SuingToGetAMessageBoard? said: cubic feet per second at those stations. means flow looks like this. Thx... great info - appreciate explanations from both of y'all
May 23May 23 2 minutes ago, immamac said: If it rained like this for 6 months straight we may get out if the drought. So summer of 2007?
May 23May 23 37 minutes ago, hornian said: So summer of 2007? It rained dame near every day that summer. It was crazy.
May 23May 23 13 minutes ago, Hate said: It rained dame near every day that summer. It was crazy. I spent half of that summer swimming in the greenbelt
May 23May 23 10 years ago tonight when all hell broke loose in Wimberley. Spencer, Shaggy and others couldn't believe the reports of a massive house floating down the Blanco. I think there were 9 total in the house. One survived. Two bodies (4 and 6-year old) were never found. Good but terrifying read from Texas Monthly. (Should be free access. If not, C&P below). https://www.texasmonthly.com/news-politics/when-the-river-rises/ Quote They heard a thunderous crack, and the house trembled. A cypress tree must have crashed into the house, Jonathan thought. The floor shifted, and Jonathan realized, with horror, that the house was moving. The entire structure—with them in it—had broken free of its pilings and was floating. The families huddled in the living room on the second floor. Ralph and Sue Carey, the elder homeowners, sat together on the couch. Their daughter, Michelle, wrapped her arms around her six-year-old son, Will, who was sitting in a club chair. Laura hugged her two children, Andrew and Leighton. Their yellow Labrador, Maggie, sat beside them. Nothing to do now, Jonathan thought, but ride it out. He and Randy raced to a window, beaming flashlights into the darkness. Jonathan hoped the water would push the house off to the side, onto the banks. But the house kept moving forward. Up ahead, he saw the concrete bridge over Ranch Road 12. Laura again called 911. It was 11:29 p.m., eighteen minutes after her first call. At first the dispatcher could hear only muffled voices and rushing water. Then a woman’s voice came on the line, breathless and panicked. “Hello! Our house is down!” “Hello?” the dispatcher said. “Hello! Our house is down! We’re floating!” Laura screamed. “What’s your address? Where are you located?” “We’re 100 Deer Crossing. Our house is—it’s off the thing! We’re floating! We’ve got three small kids in the house.” “Okay, we do have a call for Deer Crossing. We’re going to get out there as soon as we can. Are you on the roof of your house, or where are you located?” No response. “Hello?” “Please,” Laura said. “Are y’all inside your residence still?” Static filled the line. “Hello?” the dispatcher said. The dispatcher heard a woman’s cry, then silence. Shortly after, at 11:33 p.m., Laura called her sister once more. Laura told Julie that a tree had struck the house and they were floating down the river. “What?” Julie said, struggling to comprehend. “Listen,” Laura told her. She did not sound panicked, but calm, determined, Julie thought. “Tell mom and dad, ‘I love you.’ And pray.” “Where are you?” Julie asked, hoping she could summon help. “How fast is the house moving? What do you see?” Laura interrupted her. “I have to go,” she said. “I see a light. Do you guys see a light? I’ve got to go. I’ve got to go.” “Wait!” Julie shouted. But Laura hung up. About the same time, a man dialed 911. He was downstream from the vacation house. “Yes, my name is Brian, and I’m in Wimberley. I’m on Loma Vista. A house just went by with the river, and there’s a person in it with a spotlight.” “Okay, you said, so there’s a house on the river?” “A house, yes. Just went by, through the river,” the man said gravely. “And there was someone in it with a bright light, trying to flash us.” He was worried about the house hitting the concrete bridge just downstream. “I mean, that bridge,” he said. A rescue boat crew spotted the house and tried to follow it. But the water was moving too fast. The firefighters could only watch as the house hurtled toward the bridge. The Collision Inside the house, Jonathan and Randy saw the bridge approaching. They thought the house might be able to skirt under it—but it was going to be close. They yelled to their wives to hold on. At the moment of impact, the house barely slowed down. The bridge peeled off the third story in a violent crash. Windows shattered, wood snapped, walls collapsed. With the ceilings gone, they could see the black sky. Brown waves rolled over them as they bobbed wildly downstream at about 30 miles an hour. When lightning flashed, they saw objects rushing beside them—trees, lawn chairs, picnic tables—crashing into them, tearing apart the house piece by piece. Furniture slipped off into the water. Sue Carey was the first person to fall away. As she tumbled off the back of the living room floor, she grabbed onto a pile of accumulating debris, yelling for help. Jonathan crawled across the pile and reached for her hand through the frame of a broken window. But as the debris pile between them grew, he couldn’t hold on anymore. Jonathan crawled back to the group, grabbing his children. Another wave crashed into the house. As Jonathan struggled to regain his hold, he realized their friends—Randy, Michelle, and Will—had disappeared. Jonathan retrieved a twin mattress. It lay slanted atop a pile of debris, still on the living room floor. He positioned his family together on it: he and his wife kneeled, the children between them, all holding hands. Laura wept, and Jonathan told her again and again, “We’re okay. We’re going to be okay.” As water pounded the mattress, the family struggled to hold on. Jonathan grabbed his son, Andrew. The kindergartener’s hair was wet, his pajamas soaked, as he clutched his father’s arm. Ralph Carey climbed on top of the mattress with Jonathan’s family. Then a huge wave hit. Ralph fell into the water. Jonathan realized that his son, Andrew, also was gone. From the back of the debris pile, Jonathan heard Andrew calling for him. Jonathan jumped back, reaching toward his son’s voice in the dark. “They’re Screaming, ‘Help!’” Over the next twenty minutes, 911 dispatchers received at least nine calls from residents along the Blanco, calling to report people in the river. Callers couldn’t tell if the people were floating on a house, a car or a boat. “I’m pretty sure it looked like a boat,” one man told dispatchers. “They were definitely on top of it. They had a flashlight and they were shining it toward the side of the river, obviously, and they were yelling for help.” Said another caller: “They seem to be floating, but they are in the water moving rapidly. They have ahold of something. They came by really, really fast. They’re screaming, ‘Help!’” “How many people?” the dispatcher asked. “It looked like four to five.” “Four to five people in the river?” “Yes.” “Okay. All right, I’m going to get them out there as soon as I can, okay?” the dispatcher said. The last sighting appears to have come at 11:50 p.m., about a mile downstream.
May 23May 23 Author 13 minutes ago, Wally Pryor said: Good but terrifying read from Texas Monthly. (Should be free access. If not, C&P below). https://www.texasmonthly.com/news-politics/when-the-river-rises/ I read that a few years ago, and one read is enough. It was gut-wrenching.
May 23May 23 1 hour ago, hornian said: So summer of 2007? 32 minutes ago, NorthLoop said: I spent half of that summer swimming in the greenbelt Hah, yep, that was a glorious summer for greenbelt shenanigans.
May 23May 23 10 years ago tonight when all hell broke loose in Wimberley. Spencer, Shaggy and others couldn't believe the reports of a massive house floating down the Blanco. I think there were 9 total in the house. One survived. Two bodies (4 and 6-year old) were never found. Good but terrifying read from Texas Monthly. (Should be free access. If not, C&P below). https://www.texasmonthly.com/news-politics/when-the-river-rises/ They heard a thunderous crack, and the house trembled. A cypress tree must have crashed into the house, Jonathan thought. The floor shifted, and Jonathan realized, with horror, that the house was moving. The entire structure—with them in it—had broken free of its pilings and was floating. The families huddled in the living room on the second floor. Ralph and Sue Carey, the elder homeowners, sat together on the couch. Their daughter, Michelle, wrapped her arms around her six-year-old son, Will, who was sitting in a club chair. Laura hugged her two children, Andrew and Leighton. Their yellow Labrador, Maggie, sat beside them. Nothing to do now, Jonathan thought, but ride it out. He and Randy raced to a window, beaming flashlights into the darkness. Jonathan hoped the water would push the house off to the side, onto the banks. But the house kept moving forward. Up ahead, he saw the concrete bridge over Ranch Road 12. Laura again called 911. It was 11:29 p.m., eighteen minutes after her first call. At first the dispatcher could hear only muffled voices and rushing water. Then a woman’s voice came on the line, breathless and panicked. “Hello! Our house is down!” “Hello?” the dispatcher said. “Hello! Our house is down! We’re floating!” Laura screamed. “What’s your address? Where are you located?” “We’re 100 Deer Crossing. Our house is—it’s off the thing! We’re floating! We’ve got three small kids in the house.” “Okay, we do have a call for Deer Crossing. We’re going to get out there as soon as we can. Are you on the roof of your house, or where are you located?” No response. “Hello?” “Please,” Laura said. “Are y’all inside your residence still?” Static filled the line. “Hello?” the dispatcher said. The dispatcher heard a woman’s cry, then silence. Shortly after, at 11:33 p.m., Laura called her sister once more. Laura told Julie that a tree had struck the house and they were floating down the river. “What?” Julie said, struggling to comprehend. “Listen,” Laura told her. She did not sound panicked, but calm, determined, Julie thought. “Tell mom and dad, ‘I love you.’ And pray.” “Where are you?” Julie asked, hoping she could summon help. “How fast is the house moving? What do you see?” Laura interrupted her. “I have to go,” she said. “I see a light. Do you guys see a light? I’ve got to go. I’ve got to go.” “Wait!” Julie shouted. But Laura hung up. About the same time, a man dialed 911. He was downstream from the vacation house. “Yes, my name is Brian, and I’m in Wimberley. I’m on Loma Vista. A house just went by with the river, and there’s a person in it with a spotlight.” “Okay, you said, so there’s a house on the river?” “A house, yes. Just went by, through the river,” the man said gravely. “And there was someone in it with a bright light, trying to flash us.” He was worried about the house hitting the concrete bridge just downstream. “I mean, that bridge,” he said. A rescue boat crew spotted the house and tried to follow it. But the water was moving too fast. The firefighters could only watch as the house hurtled toward the bridge. The Collision Inside the house, Jonathan and Randy saw the bridge approaching. They thought the house might be able to skirt under it—but it was going to be close. They yelled to their wives to hold on. At the moment of impact, the house barely slowed down. The bridge peeled off the third story in a violent crash. Windows shattered, wood snapped, walls collapsed. With the ceilings gone, they could see the black sky. Brown waves rolled over them as they bobbed wildly downstream at about 30 miles an hour. When lightning flashed, they saw objects rushing beside them—trees, lawn chairs, picnic tables—crashing into them, tearing apart the house piece by piece. Furniture slipped off into the water. Sue Carey was the first person to fall away. As she tumbled off the back of the living room floor, she grabbed onto a pile of accumulating debris, yelling for help. Jonathan crawled across the pile and reached for her hand through the frame of a broken window. But as the debris pile between them grew, he couldn’t hold on anymore. Jonathan crawled back to the group, grabbing his children. Another wave crashed into the house. As Jonathan struggled to regain his hold, he realized their friends—Randy, Michelle, and Will—had disappeared. Jonathan retrieved a twin mattress. It lay slanted atop a pile of debris, still on the living room floor. He positioned his family together on it: he and his wife kneeled, the children between them, all holding hands. Laura wept, and Jonathan told her again and again, “We’re okay. We’re going to be okay.” As water pounded the mattress, the family struggled to hold on. Jonathan grabbed his son, Andrew. The kindergartener’s hair was wet, his pajamas soaked, as he clutched his father’s arm. Ralph Carey climbed on top of the mattress with Jonathan’s family. Then a huge wave hit. Ralph fell into the water. Jonathan realized that his son, Andrew, also was gone. From the back of the debris pile, Jonathan heard Andrew calling for him. Jonathan jumped back, reaching toward his son’s voice in the dark. “They’re Screaming, ‘Help!’” Over the next twenty minutes, 911 dispatchers received at least nine calls from residents along the Blanco, calling to report people in the river. Callers couldn’t tell if the people were floating on a house, a car or a boat. “I’m pretty sure it looked like a boat,” one man told dispatchers. “They were definitely on top of it. They had a flashlight and they were shining it toward the side of the river, obviously, and they were yelling for help.” Said another caller: “They seem to be floating, but they are in the water moving rapidly. They have ahold of something. They came by really, really fast. They’re screaming, ‘Help!’” “How many people?” the dispatcher asked. “It looked like four to five.” “Four to five people in the river?” “Yes.” “Okay. All right, I’m going to get them out there as soon as I can, okay?” the dispatcher said. The last sighting appears to have come at 11:50 p.m., about a mile downstream. It’s been ten years since those beef ribs after cleanup project? Damn.
May 23May 23 1 hour ago, KaiserSoze said: Hah, yep, that was a glorious summer for greenbelt shenanigans. Just before we moved here, we came to town in July 2019 and spent a weekend farting around at Gus Fruh... just floating around and using the rope swing. Need some of that back.
May 23May 23 4 hours ago, immamac said: If it rained like this for 6 months straight we may get out if the drought. I think you're overly optimistic. 9 months. Maybe.
May 23May 23 4 hours ago, Hate said: It rained dame near every day that summer. It was crazy. I think that was the summer it rained every fucking weekend we were planning to go out on the lake
May 23May 23 3 hours ago, rage-a-holic said: I think that was the summer it rained every fucking weekend we were planning to go out on the lake I hate getting wet when Im out on the water.
May 26May 26 1 hour ago, 4th_and_18 said: “DVD sized hail right now” That close to Lubbock they should have gone with tortilla. The next few days look wet.
May 26May 26 4 hours ago, Hate said: That close to Lubbock they should have gone with tortilla. The next few days look wet. And like clockwork the "99%" chance of rain in Austin tonight evaporates.
May 26May 26 After looking like most of the activity would slide just north, it’s been raining like a MFer in Belton for the last half hour or so. Good luck on it dipping south enough to penetrate the shield…
May 26May 26 For the second time in as many weeks, we’re going to watch a 500+ mile storm stop about five miles short of Austin aren’t we?
May 26May 26 Started thunderbooming about 9 PM last night in AMA. Steady rain till about 7AM and drizzly since then. Glad we got the moisture!!!
May 26May 26 Hope all my Hill Country homies are watching this storm. This one is wicked. South of Mason, looks like it will track north of Fredericksburg.
May 26May 26 1 hour ago, GhostOfTomJoad said: 5" - 5 1/2" hail being reported in Mason County. 6" earlier. Chickage not satisfied. Edited May 26May 26 by Wally Pryor
May 27May 27 [Jar Jar] Wesa bout to get fucking blasted here in Austin [/Jar Jar] looks like the line formed directly east and moving west in a solid red
May 27May 27 SAM and forcefield have one thing in common tonight: both with their legs spread wide open.
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