Volunteers help reopen US camp for disabled children after Texas floods

The Star

3 days ago

When Kenny Hudnall looked out the window of his mother's minivan, he could see the destruction wrought by the floodwaters of the Guadalupe River in Center Point, Texas, the United States on July 4.
Fat cypress trees snapped like twigs, kayaks dangling from debris piles 9m off the ground.
Volunteers were still working to clear the mess, many wielding chainsaws. But Hudnall, a 21-year-old college student, could not join them. He was partially paralysed in a car crash at age five and needs a wheelchair to move and a ventilator to breathe.
Still, he had a part to play in the rebirth of Texas Hill Country after the deadly floods of July 4 that left at least 132 dead and nearly 100 still missing.
Hudnall was traveling to Camp CAMP (Children's Association for Maximum Potential) in Centre Point, which was improbably welcoming new campers, many with physical and cognitive challenges too serious for other camps, little more than a week after the deadly deluge.
'Seeing those volunteers on the road was very similar to the vibe at camp,' Hudnall said. 'It's bringing normalcy to a person who doesn't always feel normal.'
Camp CAMP provides an inclusive summer camp experience for children and adults with a wide range of disabilities.
Rebuilding after the storm
The reopening of a summer camp recently heralded the green shoots already sprouting in the flood's wake, and it felt particularly poignant, and perhaps a little scary.
One of the most indelible horrors of the flood was Camp Mystic, 48km upriver in Kerr County, Texas, where more than two dozen campers, counselors and other employees lost their lives.
Camp CAMP was not in session the week of July 4. Its cabins and other buildings sit on a hill 24m above the river anyway, safely above the flood's high-water mark, said Brandon Briery, the chief operations officer. The camp's undeveloped stretch of riverfront property was used by campers only sporadically for fishing, canoeing and bonfires.
'For years we had talked about building here, and I always said no,' Ken Kaiser, the facilities director, said this week as he stood on the riverbank. 'Because it always floods.'
Still, flood detritus did render the waterfront impassable. The heart of camp was unscathed, but leaders worried about exposing vulnerable campers to scenes of destruction, including search teams from Texas A&M University on the property looking for human remains.
'We didn't want them to see their home as a disaster area,' Briery said.
Then unexpected help arrived.
Cord Shiflet, an Austin, Texas, real estate agent who started helping with disaster relief when Hurricane Harvey hit Houston in 2017, had driven to the Texas Hill Country looking for places to pitch in. Someone directed him to Camp CAMP. He discovered the destroyed waterfront, and the camp's mission, helping children too disabled to attend other camps.
On July 8, Shiflet sent a plea to his tens of thousands of Facebook followers.
Camp CAMP serves individuals with developmental, intellectual, physical, and medical disabilities.
'I need MONEY, MANPOWER, and MACHINES,' he wrote. 'We do NOT need people in athletic shorts showing up with a rake. We need the biggest, baddest muscle we can find to work our tails off.'
On July 9, 250 people arrived at Camp CAMP. By Friday, the number of volunteers had doubled. They brought front-end loaders, excavators, dump trucks and dozens of chain saws. They hacked the tangles of debris to pieces and hauled it all away. By Saturday evening, the waterfront was a flat expanse of fresh mud.
'I am overwhelmed,' Kaiser said as he surveyed the scene. 'We thought this would take a year. They did it in four days.'
Briery sent word to campers' parents that Camp CAMP would reopen at noon Monday, just as he had planned before the flood.
'My first reaction was: 'Really? Is it going to be safe?'' said Gigi Hudnall, Kenny's mother. 'It was scary that they were going to open so fast.'
Kenny was intent: He wanted to go.
'It does look like a trash dump compared to the beautiful forest we're used to,' he said. 'But it's rare for me to get this kind of connection with people who are not members of my family, or doctors or nurses.'
A safe space
Another camper, Eli Hemerly, usually prefers not to go outside. Born 17 weeks premature, he is now 18 years old with the cognitive abilities of a first grader, said his mother, Lucy Hemerly. He favours playing inside with his Mighty Morphin Power Rangers action figures and watching episodes of Paw Patrol.
A few minutes before noon, the predicted storm arrived. The Texas Department of Public Safety ordered the camp to remain closed. Hemerly was half a mile away when she told Eli the news.
'I'm disappointed,' Eli said, as his mother later remembered.
'I was shocked,' Hemerly said. 'He never wants to go anywhere.'
The delay proved short. Twenty-four hours later, the camp reopened, and campers started to return. Hemerly arrived at noon sharp so she could explain to counselors the complicated necessities of her son's care, which included instructions to navigate the gastric port in his stomach for feeding, the different diapers he wears, and his particular sleep postures.
'The counselors here have always been wonderful at making sure he's comfortable,' said Hemerly.
Hudnall was most excited to ride a horse. The activity is logistically complex. Two counselors lift him onto a horse's back. Once the horse is in motion, one counselor walks behind. Two more stand on either side. A fourth carries his ventilator.
'The way that people grow in relationships is doing things together,' said Hudnall, who has attended Camp CAMP for 10 years. 'For people in my predicament, that is the hardest thing to find. So here, having someone who is guaranteed to be around you at all times, that helps a lot.' – ©2025 The New York Times