The night of July 31, 1976 I was holed up in Steamboat Springs. I had been backpacking with Mrs. Gulch in the Flattops Wilderness for a week or so — drizzle in between downpours during the Colorado monsoon season – and bailed out for the usual, hot shower, cold beer and someone else’s cooking.
I called Denver to check in. My mother asked, “Johnny, are you anywhere near the Big Thompson Canyon?”
“Nope,” I said.
She added, “There’s been a terrible flood.”
Click here for my post from a while back with the link to a 9News (Chris Gallegos) piece about the 30th memorial service.