‘Throw me the baby’: flood waters have taken a family and its motorhome park before his eyes

It was a quiet night at the Blue Oak RV Park in Kerrville. Dozens slept at the sweet sounds of the Guadalupe river, their campers aligned themselves along the banks and settled on the small island nestled in the middle. Many were looking forward to launching the weekend of July 4 in Texas Hill Country, not discouraged by the regular rain that fell overnight.

Bob Canales and his wife, Lorena Guillen, live near the campsite, that they have, with Howdy’s Bar and Chill just at the top of the hill next. They felt sure that the rain would not represent much more than a passing nuisance.

“Everyone was looking forward to an excellent weekend,” said Canales. “In the space of 45 minutes, they were suffered from the planet.”

Canales says that the emergency workers arrived at 4 am with urgent warnings: a wall of water descended the Guadalupe and everyone needed to go out – now. Canales and his wife ran in the rising river. They started hammering the doors of the VR and screaming in the dark, trying to wake everyone before the waters that raged the region.

As campers rushed to climb to higher land, Canales waded in the water to the small island of the Park River, where the Burgess family was trapped. John Burgess, younger brother of the country singer of Fort Worth, Pat Green, came to Kerrville with his wife, Julia, to recover their daughter in a neighboring camp. The couple had registered earlier in the evening with their two young boys and the family dog, said Canales.

But a few hours later, Canales looked helpless that the family remained blocked near the steep fall that separated the island from the continent river.

“It was dark, had only one pocket lamp in one hand, and you are already knees deeply in the water and they were even deeper on the other side,” he said. John Burgess hung on to his boys while the river raged around them. Canales shouted: “Throw me the baby!”

“I understand why he didn’t do it,” said Canales. “What if the baby didn’t do it? What if I hadn’t caught the baby?”

Canales advanced, trying to get closer, but the current caught it. He swept it at almost 100 feet downstream before entering a retaining wall by the campsite. He got up and tissue back through dark flood waters. The family had left.

“I remember having seen them standing next to this tree,” said Canales, pointing towards a large cypress near the middle of the river. “It was the last time I saw this handsome young man with his family.”

John and Juila Burgess were found dead on Monday. Their boys are always missing. The couple’s daughter was the only survivor, with their dog.

In the coming hours, Canales watched the river swallowing everything on its way.

“You could hear transformers appearing,” said Canales. “The cabins on the neighboring property slammed together and finally seven or eight of them fell together like dominoes.”

The cars passed in the current, their headlights always cut in darkness while people inside were shouting for help.

“They agitated and shouted for help-and in a flash, they left,” he said. “At that time, there was nothing that you could do to save anyone or help someone.”

At dawn, the flood had climbed from VR park below to Howdy’s bridge, leaving only burst of wood, dispersed effects and grief. Friday morning, at least 120 people died and many others were still missing in Texas Hill Country.

‘Back to a feeling of normality’

After the waters fell, the work began. The first speakers paint through debris along the Guadalupe, slowly recovering the dead. Some people were found just behind Howdy. Canales joined research, doing what he could to help.

He and his wife opened the restaurant to feed and house research teams, in order to reopen to the public as soon as possible. The power had come out, propane tanks had disappeared, but Canales quickly learned another unexpected loss: one of his employees died saving his family from the flood.

One of Howdy’s cooking workers Julian Ryan, 27, was one of the people taken in the flood. While flooding waters were heading for his family’s mobile house nearby, Ryan hit a window to help his mother, fiancée and their children escape. But the broken glass cut an artery in his arm. His family finally survived.

“A great guy,” said Canales. “He was a very good singer.”

A fredericksburg company donated propane and Canales worked with an electrician to put the lights back. The patio was also repaired. Tuesday, the open panel was shining again. The following night, they organized a karaoke evening, a quasi-memory for Ryan, said Canales.

“It was so important that people return to a feeling of normality,” said Canales. “I think people see that we are going to survive it.”

Thursday evening, Howdy’s was lively. People laughed while playing at the pool. Canales was sitting at the bar with a glass in hand. He spent all day cleaning debris with volunteers from San Marcos. His wife worked behind the bar, speaking with two other women. One of them spoke in his phone: “Siri, show me what Anderson Cooper looks like” when her friend laughed.

Along a wall, a row of donations had started to accumulate. A shirt that said “Kerrville Strong” placed on a table. Journalists from all over the country had invaded the region in recent days. Flood reminders were essential. The mosquitoes feasted while Canales was sitting on the patio, overlooking what was formerly VR park.

“To be honest with you, I hadn’t had time to slow down to really feel a lot,” he said, sipping a glass of red wine. “I am happy to be alive and I am happy that my wife is alive, but I feel very, very sad about the people we could not prevent. But I will manage this.

“We are going to bounce back,” said Canales. “As Texans, we come back stronger than ever and we will return to it. We owe it to the memory of the people who have been lost.”

Copyright 2025 Kera