What a terrible tragedy. Camping is a wonderful experience, and no one should have to be fearful of something like this. The key is be prepared. Watch for changes in the weather; be observant - if you're on a creek, take that high water line seriously. If you're on a hill, watch for slides and washouts. If the soil looks unstable, don't camp under it or at the foot of it under trees.
Always take a weather radio. There's a little gadget you can buy which tells you how far storms are from you by a series of little red lights. It's so lightweight, you won't know it's there, but it's good to hang on a fishing vest or your whistle lanyard.
YOU DO AT LEAST HAVE A WHISTLE WITH YOU, DON'T YOU?
Here's a small email posted on a camping list.
All of us need weather radios. The first warning went out at 1 AM. Around 3
AM the river rose to 15 feet. By 5 AM, it was 23 feet. Had you gotten the
warning, you had time to evacuate. Most have the valley sites in AR(and
there are many)are approached via a wet weather bridge. In heavy rain, these
bridges are not passable. You must get out early. One couple survived by
tying their truck to trees, and it performed like a boat. The concern is
that your radio will pick up a signal. I just ordered one whose reviews
indicated the radio had performed well in the mountains of AR.
If you have never seen or experienced a flash flood first hand, let me tell you that is furious, deadly, unstoppable, and it's going to kill you if you get in the way.
We lived in Acton, California for a couple of years. Soledad Canyon Creek was just a little dry creek where I collected agates, and my (licensed) gopher tortoisem Popeye, grazed its banks. Harmless fun. Ran the dogs there, dodged the cactus, did a little target shooting nearby. Bone dry.
Until that month it rained for 18 straight days and nights. I woke up one morning and the swimming pool with the crack in the bottom had filled up. Across the street past the grocery and the post office, the creek boiled red mud, rocks and so much water it was intimidating just to watch. No more little dry bed you could jump over - it raged with high waves and whitecaps - it was like watching an angry dragon that had come to life. (Detailed in my book, Waltz on the Wild Side - An Animal Lover's Journal that really should be on Kindle, now, shouldn't it? Why don't you tell Amazon.)
It killed people. It carried away livestock, buildings, and caused devastation for miles. Tippi Hedren and her family have a famous exotic cat refuge (Shambala) downstream of where I lived. It flooded down there - they were on the creekside, and the toll was heavy on the heart and in expense. They were filming "ROAR" at the time, I believe. My friend who lived across the creek in a canyon with her leopards had to ride into town on horseback, her yellow slicker sheltering two leopard cubs and their baby bottles.
A neighbor who was a paraplegic, Malcolm, got caught in a wide spot and had to wait it out. He was lucky he wasn't carried downstream and killed - the van could have just floated away and overturned.
Our late friend, Joe Hornok, an animal trainer for the movies, lost some kennels, but the animals were saved.
It raged crazily until the rain stopped and it quieted down and returned to a muddy trickle. It dried up and no one would believe the terror and the damage it caused.
So always be aware of your surroundings - and when you pitch your tent - look up for dead branches that could fall, or if the tree is a potential lightning rod.
Camping's a lot more fun when you don't take chances.
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