HUNT, Texas (BN24) — More than 160 people remain unaccounted for in central Texas four days after catastrophic flash floods killed over 100 during the July Fourth weekend, Governor Greg Abbott said Tuesday, underscoring the scale of the disaster that has overwhelmed riverside communities and summer camps in the Hill Country.
Authorities say the unprecedented surge of floodwaters along the Guadalupe River swept away cabins, trailers and campsites early Friday morning as torrential rains caused the river to rise more than 26 feet in less than an hour. The disaster has left grieving families searching for loved ones and officials scrambling to recover the dead while fielding mounting questions about whether more warnings could have saved lives.
Abbott, speaking at a news conference in Hunt after a helicopter tour of devastated areas, said the number of missing climbed sharply after officials launched a hotline for families to report unaccounted-for relatives. Many of the 161 missing were staying in Kerr County but had not registered at hotels or camps, complicating efforts to track them.
“We will not stop until every missing person is accounted for,” Abbott said.
The governor added that President Donald Trump had pledged federal aid and planned to visit Texas on Friday. “He could not stop talking about how sad he was for all the little girls who have lost their lives,” Abbott said.
Officials said at least 87 bodies have been recovered in Kerr County, which is home to a cluster of popular summer camps, including Camp Mystic, the century-old girls’ camp where at least 27 campers and staff members were killed.
Five campers and one counselor remain missing. Scenes outside Mystic captured the heartbreak: mud-caked blankets and pillows lay scattered on grassy slopes near the river, amid overturned luggage adorned with colorful stickers.
Among the dead were a second grader who loved pink hair bows, a 19-year-old counselor who mentored younger girls, and the camp’s 75-year-old director.
In the days since the floods, rescue teams have searched hundreds of miles from the Hill Country to the outskirts of Austin, using heavy machinery to clear debris and combing tree lines for survivors. Some people were pulled alive from treetops where they clung for hours after the torrent hit before dawn.
But hope for finding additional survivors is fading. “Four days have passed since anyone has been found alive,” said Lt. Col. Ben Baker of the Texas Game Wardens.
At the same time, pressure has grown on local officials to explain how such a deadly surge could happen with little apparent warning. Residents and reporters have questioned why many camps and neighborhoods appeared to be caught off guard despite weather forecasts calling for torrential rain.
Kerr County leaders defended their response and said the focus remains on recovery, not blame. Sheriff Larry Leitha said that issuing evacuation orders isn’t “as easy as pushing a button.” County Judge Rob Kelly acknowledged Kerr County does not have a warning system and said a previous grant request for nearly $1 million in federal funding was rejected years ago by FEMA.
Generations of residents have known the risks of living in what locals call “flash flood alley.” In 1987, a similar flood killed 10 teenagers when swollen creeks overtook buses evacuating a youth camp in Comfort.
While some camps did monitor conditions and moved campers to higher ground before Friday’s disaster, many people either did not receive warnings or had no time to react as water swallowed cabins and tents.
The devastation left behind has been described as one of the largest search and recovery operations in Texas history. Hundreds of volunteers have joined professional crews to sift through mud, toppled trees and mangled vehicles.
Aidan Duncan, 17, was one of the lucky ones to escape Riverside RV Park in Ingram after hearing an evacuation call over a megaphone. On Tuesday, he surveyed what was left: a mattress, sports cards, and his parakeet’s birdcage, all caked in brown sludge.
“What’s going on right now, it hurts,” Duncan said. “I literally cried so hard.”
Even elderly residents have joined cleanup efforts. Along the riverbanks, 91-year-old Charles Hanson used a broom to clear splintered wood and piles of concrete, determined to help neighbors who could not get out themselves. “We’ll make do with the best we got,” he said.
