Texas (BN24) – Federal emergency officials repeatedly granted requests to strip Camp Mystic’s buildings from the 100-year flood zone map, easing oversight as the century-old summer camp expanded across a flood-prone Texas riverbank before a catastrophic surge killed children and counselors, records reviewed by The Associated Press show.
The Federal Emergency Management Agency had originally designated the prestigious girls’ camp along the Guadalupe River as a “Special Flood Hazard Area” in Kerr County in 2011. That meant Camp Mystic’s property was considered likely to flood in an event severe enough to have a 1% chance of occurring in any given year. Under that designation, flood insurance was mandatory, and any construction faced tighter restrictions.
But after appeals by the camp’s owners, FEMA amended the map several times over the past decade, removing dozens of cabins and other structures from the hazard area. Those decisions loosened floodplain regulations just as Camp Mystic ramped up its footprint along the river, long known as part of Texas’ “flash flood alley.”
Experts said the tragedy on July 4—when historic floodwaters inundated the camp before dawn, killing at least 27 people, including longtime owner Dick Eastland—underscored the risks of weakening safeguards in the face of predictable dangers.
“It’s particularly disturbing that a camp entrusted with so many young lives would seek exemptions rather than move vulnerable structures out of harm’s way,” said Sarah Pralle, an associate professor at Syracuse University who has studied FEMA’s flood mapping decisions extensively.
Records show FEMA first agreed in 2013 to take 15 Camp Mystic buildings out of the 100-year flood zone, after the camp successfully argued they were not at significant risk. Those cabins belonged to the original site, Camp Mystic Guadalupe, which was largely destroyed by last week’s flood.
After additional appeals, FEMA struck 15 more buildings from the map between 2019 and 2020, this time at a newly built sister site, Camp Mystic Cypress Lake. That second campus opened in 2020 as part of an ambitious expansion.
While the Cypress Lake site escaped the most severe devastation, campers described widespread damage to its cabins. At the main Guadalupe property, some of the structures that had been exempted—nicknamed “the flats”—were completely submerged.
Experts said the motivations behind the appeals likely included reducing insurance costs and avoiding the strict rules that govern building in designated floodplains.
Data provided to AP by First Street, a climate-risk modeling company, showed that despite FEMA’s revised designations, many of the buildings at Camp Mystic Guadalupe sat squarely in areas that flood models identified as highly vulnerable.
Jeremy Porter, head of climate implications at First Street, said FEMA’s official maps often fail to account for heavy rains overwhelming small waterways like creeks. According to First Street’s model, almost all of Camp Mystic’s Guadalupe property was at risk in a 100-year flood.
Even the newer Cypress Lake campus, situated away from the main river but near Cypress Creek, faced significant danger. While FEMA’s floodplain map did not flag the creek, First Street’s analysis showed the majority of that site could flood in a severe storm.
In a statement, FEMA downplayed the significance of removing the camp buildings from the hazard area, saying flood maps are only a “snapshot in time” and are not predictions of exactly where flooding will occur.
Property owners seeking to modify flood designations must commission detailed engineering studies, a process FEMA has described as “arduous.” Yet records show FEMA has approved roughly 90% of such requests.
Pralle said her research has found that wealthier and predominantly white communities are more likely to succeed in having properties removed from the maps. In some cases, she noted, buildings were excluded by just a two-foot margin—allowing almost no room for error if floodwaters rose higher than predicted.
“This process can effectively shield properties from oversight,” she said. “It raises serious questions about whether public safety is being balanced with private development.”
FEMA’s amendments included cautions that parts of the camp remained in the floodplain, and any future construction still required careful management. But county officials allowed the camp to grow substantially, adding a new dining hall, chapel, archery range, and dozens of additional cabins.
By the time of a routine state inspection on July 2—just two days before the disaster—Camp Mystic had 557 campers and over 100 staff between its two sites.
The owners, Dick and Tweety Eastland, long celebrated by Texas’ elite for running the camp for generations, cited the “tremendous success” of the original Guadalupe property as justification for building Cypress Lake.
FEMA referred questions about the expansion to local authorities, who did not respond to requests for comment.
Chris Steubing, a veteran municipal engineer and executive director of the Texas Floodplain Management Association, said local officials likely believed they were following regulations but were ultimately overwhelmed by an unprecedented weather event.
“Mother Nature set a new standard,” Steubing said. “You could have built two or three feet higher, and it still might not have been enough.”
