Home Care In Ingram, TX

“I said, ‘Man, I don’t know if I’m hallucinating, man. I swear I hear this little girl.”

INGRAM, Texas – In the wake of devastating flooding along the Guadalupe River, more than a thousand search-and-rescue workers have been combing through multiple Hill Country towns in search of missing victims.

For some residents, the official response wasn’t fast enough, and they took it upon themselves to help find their neighbors.

One of those locals is Ashton Bolton, who grew up along the Guadalupe and knows its banks as well as anyone.

Days after the wall of water tore through the region, destroying homes and RVs and sweeping away neighbors, Bolton says he set out to find survivors or at least bring closure to families.

“It was the faintest scream, man,” Bolton recalled.

The sound cut through the rush of the river and the snap of branches as he walked along the banks of the Guadalupe River.

“You know when you’re in a very quiet room, it sounds like a vacuum? That’s how it sounded,” he said.

Bolton said the flood’s aftermath in his hometown was “crushing.” Still, he and a few friends walked miles along the riverbanks, searching.

“It’s God’s work, really. I mean, it was just him and I out there by ourselves,” Bolton said.

On the day after the flood, he ventured out near his home.

“It was so quiet, it was loud, you know what I mean? But I was in the water, I was hearing the water, but I know I heard her,” he said. “Not just once, two or three times.”

Bolton said he questioned whether he was imagining it.

“I said, ‘Man, I don’t know if I’m hallucinating, man. I swear I hear this little girl.’ It’s a girl scream. It’s not a boy scream, it’s a girl’s scream. Just loud and high-pitched,” he said.

Moments later, he saw her.

“I went between underneath this tree and this little thicket, and right as I turned my head left. Looking west upstream, and there she was,” Bolton said. “She was just bruised up and scraped up a little bit. She was cold. She was COLD. Her lips were swollen purple. I got home that night and taking a warm frickin’ shower. Really? I’m fortunate enough to take a warm shower.”

The girl, no older than 10, was lifeless. She had ended up on a small raised patch of dry ground in the middle of the river.

“But I like to tell myself the way that she was laying, she looked like she was dancing. Like she was happy to go to the Lord. Like she was happy,” Bolton said.

There was no scream. Whatever AShton thought he heard, led him straight to the young girl, as if someone or something was calling him to find her.

After calling 911, deputies needed Bolton’s help to get the girl’s body across the still-swollen river.

“Once the deputies came, he said, we’re gonna need a kayak. Well, I know there’s one upstream. So I had to cross back over in water up to my chest,” Bolton said.

He described what happened next after calling 911.

“Had to lay her body on a kayak. And put her back in the river and just float her across. And take her out of the kayak and put her in a body bag,” he said.

Bolton can’t explain how the scream led him to her. But for him, the search wasn’t over.

“Let’s keep going, Mystic is right there,” he said.

In the days that followed, Bolton and his friends searched for personal belongings along the river, items they hoped could be returned to families.

“Allie, Allie W, I don’t know her last name, I found her a little blue backpack with her pink brush in it and her bug bite and her lotion,” he said. “I wasn’t going to lay them back down in the river bed, back in the mud. Any piece of clothing we saw because they all had tags on them and I don’t know if they’re machine washable but they all have little cute little stickers on them like little rainbows or something little girls.”

Bolton and his girlfriend, Lauren, spent days collecting, sorting and bagging the items.

“Lauren’s picking up these cute little dresses, man. Cute little tiny dresses,” he said.

For Bolton, returning these items is about giving families something to hold onto.

“It’s my job in my home, my hometown, my backyard. I’m responsible for these little girls. I need to find them. I need take care of them like they’re my own,” he said.

David Carpenter knows every piece of the Guadalupe River; his family’s roots in the Hill Country town of Ingram predate Texas. He grew up learning the currents, finding the holes for catfish, jumping from rope swings with his friends and, later, his children. But his time at the river is different now.

Since July 4, Carpenter has greeted each dawn by reading his daily devotional and praying. Then he makes the twelve-mile drive and approaches the banks of the river alone. With a four-foot saw in hand, the sawmill owner hacks his way through dense cypress trees and hundred-foot tall debris piles in the most dangerous areas of flood destruction. He spent the first days on the river shouting into heaps of brush, tears falling freely, calling out the names of missing friends and campers. He never heard any responses. One evening, he had to be pulled off the river because he was racked with full-body cramps from lack of food and water. But he refuses to ease up.

In the hours after flooding swept the county, Carpenter saw the parents of missing Mystic campers waiting and hoping for answers at the Ingram elementary school, a reunification center for victims and families. “It broke me,” he told me. “I prayed with them. They cried. They told me their daughters’ names. So what do I have? I’ve got a chain saw.”

Nearly five hundred people have since worked alongside him on the South Fork of the Guadalupe. On July 7, his 24-year-old son, Sam, joined him and teams of state troopers and retired Navy SEALs to sift through stuffed animals and tiny shoes. That day, the crew found three bodies. One of them was Carpenter’s close 26-year-old friend, whose family he sits next to every Sunday at church.

Later that evening, I spoke with Carpenter beneath an oak tree in his backyard. His driveway was filled with the vehicles of teens from Kerrville, Ingram, and Hunt who gather at his house for youth-group meetings. Many of them were grieving friends and family members.

These towns share a culture, a heartbeat bound by the river. The community now also shares collective grief. As of July 10, more than 120 people have been confirmed dead and at least 161 are still missing. Grand cypress trees that once stood nearly one hundred feet tall, creating shaded canopies overhead, now lie mangled, snapped like toothpicks and covered with shards of clothing, homes, and crushed cars. Moss-covered stones that once lay peacefully on the bottom of the teal river are whitewashed and piled up amid mounds of silt. Thousands of dead trout and bass lie strewn out nearly five hundred feet from the river.

I grew up in Boerne, a small town just thirty minutes southeast of Kerrville, where the Guadalupe is a short twenty-minute drive east of Main Street. As a child, I waded in the shallow, bright green water of the river with my sister, my hands reaching for the smooth stones below. I still visit my grandparents in Center Point, a small community outside Kerrville. And I’m still friends with fellow campers I met through summers at Laity Lodge Youth Camp, about forty minutes past Camp Mystic. In fact, a camp connection was what led me to the passenger seat of Sara Kendrick’s bright red Jeep on the afternoon of July 7. Some locals endearingly refer to Sara as the unofficial mayor of Hunt, an unincorporated community with a population of not much more than a thousand. Sara and her husband, Sean, live on a ranch at the headwaters of the North Fork of the Guadalupe. Normally more than a hundred feet away, the river reached a foot high at their house, with fish flopping against the side of their home. They were stranded, without electricity, but they were safe.

Sara drove me from Kerrville along Texas Highway 39 to Hunt, weaving down familiar stretches of road I’ve driven so many times. Her phone rang incessantly: a friend needing prayer; another, struggling with the loss, asking for her to pick up whiskey and coke from the liquor store; a neighbor asking her to field donations. She’s also fielded lots of calls from national news reporters, who’ve asked how she’s doing. “We’re squeegeeing mud off of one room off of one house, and I have fifty friends that I could be helping right now,” she told me. “I feel so overwhelmed.” Sean, an elder at Cross Kingdom Church, in Kerrville, received a text that day from a friend asking for prayer for PTSD—a search-and-rescue crew had just found seven bodies in the debris near the HTR TX RV park, in Ingram.

“Lord Jesus, please bring peace. Please bless this river,” Sara whispered as we drove. We passed the flooded remains of the Hunt Store, the hub of the small community and a favorite stop among camp families in the summer. The Kendricks are close friends with the owner, Haley Lehrmann, and they stop by to say hello almost every day. “There’s guys that every morning, they’re there having coffee. And then every afternoon, there’s a table that the locals sit at and have a beer and just talk about the day—every single day,” Sara tells me. “And that, you know, may sound small to someone else, but this is our community’s life. Those people, I don’t even know if they’re alive right now.”

Sean and Sara, who have lived in Hunt for twenty years, met at Vista Camps, a 104-year-old duo of boys and girls summer camps along the Guadalupe where Sara now works full-time. A pink beaded necklace with silver charms hangs from her rearview mirror, the charms treasured tokens from her time as a camper there. Vista Camps, which is split into Rio Vista and Sierra Vista, sits on the heavily battered South Fork of the river between Hunt and Ingram, not far from other cherished spots such as La Junta, Mystic, Heart O’ the Hills, Honey Creek, and Waldemar.

The Kendricks spent the day cleaning the flooded camp directors’ home on the Vista Camps property: sifting through ruined heirlooms and trying to salvage the codirector’s wedding dress. The son of the directors, Justin Hawkins, was almost swept away saving Vista’s “war canoes,” which have held generations of campers as they competed in the camp tradition of racing down the river. “We were supposed to drop our kids there for four weeks today. And instead, my nine-year-old is squeegeeing mud out of the owner’s house,” Sara said.

Of the ten women in Sara’s Bible study, two had children at Camp Mystic. One of them was an eight-year-old student at Hunt Elementary who was a friend of the Kendricks’ younger daughter. Renee Smajstrla, who Sara’s daughter Mercy fondly called Naynay, was a camper in the Bubble Inn cabin when she was swept away. Her body was recovered the night of July 4. In a Fox News interview, Mercy talked about scrolling through Sara’s phone for videos and pictures with Smajstrla, crying over the loss of her friend. (The video has more than 92,000 views on Instagram.) When Renee’s mother, Catherine, saw the video, she texted Sara that it brought her comfort.

Sara told me that across Kerr County, churches and elementary schools are overflowing with donations. Texans from across the state drove in to set up tents on street corners to grill burgers and wrap burritos for first responders. Homes and businesses that went untouched by the flood are empty because people are out helping neighbors and strangers alike. “So many people—the plumbing companies, the contractors . . . everybody’s dropping everything, regardless of finances,” Sean said.

One of those people is his friend David Carpenter, who finished the day back at his home full of hurting teenagers, preparing for another dawn among the piles of debris. He trusts that the Guadalupe will once again be a place of joy for him and his community. “People will be forced to deal with that river again, like we’re dealing with our grief,” he told me. “And people will play. And they will laugh again in that river. And that river will be redeemed.”

Michael Abner said Blue Oak RV Park owner Lorena Guillena woke them up on July 4, right before their RV floated down the Guadalupe River.

INGRAM, Texas — When the deadly Hill Country floods hit Kerr County, several people sprang into action to save lives.

Lorena Guillen and her husband ran to every RV they could in their park to alert people to the danger they were in the morning of July 4.

Now, one of the families the couple saved is back in Ingram at their campground, looking to help in any way they can to restore the beloved campground when the time is right.

Michael Abner and Guillen are thankful to be walking to the banks of the Guadalupe River together.

"[Abner] is one of my residents. Well, was one of my residents," Guillen said.

Abner spends half his time in Kerr County. He specifically will usually be at Guillen's Blue Oak RV Park.

Two weeks after the deadly July 4 floods, the damage left behind — water in the campgrounds and nearby search crews — is hard to grasp.

"God, this was so beautiful. All of the green grass was right here where the water is right now. I can't believe the water is so high still," Abner said.

Abner takes us to where his RV was sitting, with him inside, when Guillen banged on his door to tell him to evacuate.

She and her husband helped save nearly every family at their campground when the flood came rushing at them. They tell us first responders were in the water trying to reach a family, but the current was too much for even boats.

"So, you don't think you would've realized the extent of the danger you were in if Lorena hadn't knocked on your door?" KHOU 11 Reporter Amanda Henderson asked Abner.

"No, I mean I was asleep, totally asleep at 5:00 in the morning," Abner said.

Abner provided us videos showing his lot in the hours during and after the floodwaters rushed through the area and RVs were swept away.

We are now getting a look at his RV's parking area two weeks after the damage.

All that was left was a field, concrete slab and several limestone blocks thrown across the campground. Abner said it was a retention wall, and he was among the tallest locations, which is why seeing water up where he was shocked him.

"How far away would you say we are from the Guadalupe where we're standing?" Henderson asked while Abner showed us his RV's location.

"Well, you can see... God, I have to say at least a football field," Abner said.

Abner said he plans to closely watch the state's special session next week.

"What do you hope you hear from that session?" Henderson asked.

"That they're going to put these sirens in," Abner said.

Abner said he plans to make frequent visits to check in on Guillen and help her with what she needs to rebuild the campground.

"Every time I look at this I'm just like how are we going to do this? How?" Guillen asked.

Guillen said there's no flood insurance on her land and will have to fix electrical, plumbing, sewer and the ramps.

"That's the thing that impresses me the most. A lot of my residents, just like Michael, they're like we're coming back once it's ready," Guillen said.

Coming back to stand here together near the banks of the Guadalupe River.

"You said, 'she saved my life and I'm going to help her rebuild,'" Henderson said.

"It's a fact," Abner said.

Floodwaters broke windows, damaged the ceramic studio and outdoor walls at Hill Country Arts Foundation Point Theatre

INGRAM, Texas – The recent devastating floods along the Guadalupe River have left the heart of Ingram’s community theater severely damaged, with the building’s floor collapsed and the indoor space now too unstable to enter.

For 66 years, the Hill Country Arts Foundation Point Theatre has been a cultural hub where neighbors gathered to watch performances and express themselves.

Sarah Tacey, executive director of the Hill Country Arts Foundation, said volunteers have been working tirelessly despite the extensive damage.

“They were here just up to their chins and mud with the rest of us, and they said we’re here for the long haul with you," Tacey said.

Floodwaters broke windows and pushed debris through the building, including the recently opened ceramic studio. The flood also knocked out the outdoor theater’s walls.

Despite the physical destruction, Tacey said the community’s loss is far more profound.

“We lost a building. It’s nothing compared to the loss of life,” she said.

The theatre’s Facebook page has honored its beloved members who did not survive the floods, which is why volunteers continue their work.

“We’re trying to honor the people who loved us that we’ve lost,” Tacey said. “We’re fixing the things we can and mourning the things that we can’t.”

An insurance adjuster told Tacey that the building damage, excluding the equipment inside, is estimated to be at least $1.2 million in damages.

However, Tacey told KSAT that support has poured in from across the globe, including donations from people in the theater community.

Tacey said she remains hopeful the theater will be restored and its spotlights will shine again.

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Ashley Middleton said that when she received a text about the flooding, what came to her mind first wasn't the rental properties. It was her mom who lived nearby.

INGRAM, Texas — After floodwaters devastated parts of the Texas Hill Country, we're getting a closer look at the trail of destruction left behind and the difficult recoveries ahead.

KHOU 11's Julissa Garza was in Ingram, part of Kerr County, where she spoke with one woman who returned to her property on Wednesday for the first time since the floods.

Ashley Middleton said she owns two rental properties not far from the Guadalupe River and has lived in the area with her family for decades.

"This is a vacation rental, two houses that our family has, and then we live up the road a couple of miles," Middleton told Garza. "Our mom lives right on Highway 39, so, and then we live just kind of behind her."

Pieces of furniture from one of the rentals now sit outside after the floods left a trail of damage.

"We've just been able to get over here today for the first time to kind of assess this," she said. "Thankfully, just one of the houses really got hit. The other one just has a little bit of exterior damage."

Middleton said that when she received a text about the flooding, what came to her mind first wasn't the rental properties. It was her mom who lived nearby.

"I had gotten up to kind of check the flood gauges, and I texted my mom's caregiver and as soon as I hit the send button, she was calling me," Middleton explained. "She said there was water in the house. I asked her how deep it was. She said it was at their feet. So I asked her if she could get my mom upstairs, and she was able to get her upstairs before four feet of water came in."

She said that once the water started to recede, her husband was able to go get them.

"A sigh of relief, I'm sure?" Garza asked.

"Oh yeah it was really like, it was hard," Middleton said through tears. "The worry and just knowing, like how scared they had to have been, you know, especially the caregiver just having to take care of somebody else, you know, I'm sure the responsibility she felt. She's a blessing to our family for sure."

Middleton said she's thankful her mom is OK and so are the people who were staying at the rental homes. Now, she is left to clean up the pieces, but said she's not doing it alone.

"We live in a great community. We have, you know, our neighbors. I've realized over the last few days that our neighbors and our friends, they've become more family," Middleton said.

Her mom's home was also damaged by the flooding, but she's OK, along with the renters who were staying in the homes. The renters have been able to come back and pick up some belongings. One woman thought she had lost her wedding ring, but ended up finding it.

Middleton shared that the community has really stepped up in helping each other through everything.