A
flooding mountain river in Wyoming can be an “insatiable monster.” That is what I called the middle fork of the
Popo Agie River here in Lander seven years ago when we experienced a 50-year
flood event.
Unfortunately, based on snowpack in the
mountains, it is entirely possible we will see a 100-year flood event this
year.
For those of us who lived through what
occurred here in 2010, it is hard to imagine that it could get any worse.
But snowpack levels, as I write this, are
at 326 percent of historical averages.
This is just an astonishing amount of water and snow.
Much of Wyoming has been in a flood watch
over the past two weeks.
Back in 2010, high water victimized folks
in Fremont, Albany, Johnson, Platte, Natrona, Carbon and Sweetwater counties.
Here in Lander we were in the middle of one
of the largest public disaster effort in the state’s history.
Millions of dollars were spent. Some 400 National Guard soldiers were
here. Over 500,000 sand bags were
filled. Over 35,000 hours of volunteer effort were documented.
Fire departments were supposed to gather
in Lander on that weekend for their annual convention but it was cancelled due
to the flooding. Some 11 counties sent
emergency crews to help out anyway. At one point, more than 32 square miles of (normally
dry) Fremont County land was under water.
There were 43 different agencies involved
in our local effort.
One of the main reasons we moved to
Wyoming 47 years ago was the Popo Agie River that runs through Lander.
This mountain stream is one of those
rivers that you see pictured on calendars.
That image whetted the appetite for this young Midwesterner who yearned
to get to the mountains.
But our friendly little stream had turned
into quite the angry foe. We always thought we were lucky to live along this
river. Its bank was about 500 yards from
us. After the flood, it is now about 450
yards away.
We also have Big Dickinson Creek running
through our back yard. Yes, that is the creek that in 1963 caused the worst
flood in Lander’s history.
Our personal flooding woes started June 4,
2010, when water breached some riverbanks at a rural residence upriver. The storm of water that gushed through our
property swamped the creek bed and caused water in basements downstream from
us.
Firemen and officials were diligent in
trying to figure out where the water was coming from and getting it stopped.
State Sen. Cale Case, who is also president of the Lander Ditch Association,
did yeoman work in getting a dike built.
After that incident, the town seemed safe
until June 8 when a surge knocked out Mortimore Lane Bridge, washed out a half
acre of my land, sucked a cabin off our property and pretty much scoured the
riverbed.
Beautiful private homes along the river
belonging to Carl and Anne Huhnke (president of Central Bank and Trust) and
Chuck and Cathy Guschewsky (CEO of Fremont Motors) were severely threatened
and, at times, looked like they were going to wash away.
At Lander’s City Park, the river was almost
100 yards wide in some places.
Watching huge machines dump gigantic
boulders onto the bank of a levee only to see the river suck the rocks away was
awesome. It reminded me of a movie scene
where you are feeding an insatiable monster.
Like Little Shop of Horrors where the monster says “Feed me! Feed
me!”
And as we waited for the high water, it
also felt like being a town under siege.
We knew the enemy was out there but did not know when it would attack or
how big their force would be. Unease all around. Folks were tense and sleep-deprived for days
on end.
Folks in Hudson, Riverton and all over
the Wind River Indian Reservation were flooded about the same time too, as
water from the three forks of the Popo Agie, the Little Wind and the Big Wind
surged.
Joe Austin of the National Outdoor
Leadership School got sucked into a culvert while volunteering. He disappeared
before everyone’s eyes. Miraculously, he
was shot out the other end and emerged from the river very wet, very shaken but
very much alive. It occurred on his 52nd
birthday.
There were no injuries or deaths. Then-Lander Mayor Mick Wolfe had a bandaged
right hand, a sandbagging injury. “I
wasn’t watching and a gal speared me with a spade. I am not as quick as I used to be,” he
commented dryly.
About the only good news came from the
Wyoming Department of Health whose officials thought many of the West Nile
mosquito nests were washed away – maybe all the way to Nebraska.
Back in 2010, I wrapped up a column that
I had written about the raging Popo Agie River with this final series of
comments about its name:
Most folks pronounce it Poposha.
Some old-timers call it Popo Aggie.
One historian says it is Popo Argee.
Lately, I have been calling it Popo
Angry.
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