It was a Tuesday morning in January 2005 and although we had experienced rain for a few days. It wasn’t coming down hard enough to cause too much concern. The rivers were rising, and my husband, along with other men in our ward, were busy placing sandbags around the homes closest to the rivers. We were taking precautions, not getting too overly anxious over a little rain… UNTIL….. I received a call from my husband; “Creekside #58 is going into the river, get men down here NOW!” Immediately, I ran down the street to give this news to the bishop in our ward. He was with other members of the priesthood, sandbagging by the river. Within seconds, these men were piled in trucks, heading for the neighborhood down the street.
#58 fell into the river, followed by houses on either side. The stream that we graciously call the Santa Clara “River” now resembled the roaring Colorado. It commenced in taking chunks of land out from under the homes as it cut a new path, far from it’s original course. Other neighborhoods were now being evacuated as more homes were being undercut by the torrential flood of water and debris. The Stake President was alerted to what was happening and soon, men from all over the valley were arriving to help.
Work continued after the sun went down. With the power out, car lights were focused on each house as workers made their way through darkened homes in order to save family pictures, grandma’s china and other precious odds and ends. Shortly after the fire department deemed the house unstable and the workers evacuated, a loud crack would echo through the air and the house would completely disappear into the dark mouth of the mighty Santa Clara. No one could believe their eyes. So much loss in so little time just didn’t make sense.