Property owners faced tough choice after July 4 flood: Rebuild or leave?

KERR COUNTY - Any time rain begins falling in the Hill Country, Shawn Ligon gets anxious.

She recalls waking up nearly a year ago on July 4 to find water rushing into her and her husband Jay's house in Ingram, across Texas 39 from the Guadalupe River, and scrambling to put the couple's dogs on their bed as the furniture around them started floating.

It became harder to breathe as the water kept rising, and Jay tried to break into the attic to keep them above the water line. When the water finally receded, the couple's house and most of their possessions were destroyed.

They questioned whether to repair the house they'd shared for decades in the Bumble Bee Hills subdivision, or move to another neighborhood or town farther from the river and away from the tragedy that had unfolded on their doorstep. The couple, who are both in their late 60s, chose to stay.

Hundreds of Kerr County residents and property owners have grappled with those kinds of choices in the wake of the flood, which killed 119 people in the county and destroyed hundreds of houses and commercial buildings, sending shock waves through the local economy and housing market.

Families lost the homes they'd raised children in, the peaceful retreats they hoped to pass on to grandchildren, the cabins they visited on vacation and the buildings they used to operate their businesses. What would it take to remain and rebuild, or leave and start a new life somewhere else? How do you come to feel safe again? How do you keep putting in the grueling work of reconstruction and not give up?

For the Ligons, help from federal and state programs, churches and other nonprofits, family members, customers of Jay's plumbing business and total strangers made restoring their home possible. Buying a new place also would have been expensive. Jay was starting to think about retirement, but said that's not financially feasible anymore.

They were thrilled to move back into the house in April, but Shawn sometimes doubts whether the couple made the right choice. When it rains, she focuses on taking deep breaths and walking around. Sometimes Jay talks about the flood in his sleep.

"The discussion about whether or not to stay here is still ongoing. I'm terrified to stay," Shawn said. "If it flooded once - I love my house, I'm just not this comfortable close to the river - what's to say it's not going to happen in the next 10 years?"

Cotality, a property data and analytics firm, estimated the flood caused $1.1 billion in damage to residential buildings near the river. Most homeowners didn't have flood insurance, leaving them "to shoulder nearly all reconstruction costs," Cotality said.

The flood could wipe as much as $200 million in property value off the tax rolls, county officials said, and the Texas Division of Emergency Management has received more than 790 submissions from residents describing wrecked properties. The agency said it has verified that about 350 of those reports are for buildings that were destroyed or sustained major damage. The rest of the submissions were for buildings with less damage or duplicate entries.

The Community Foundation of the Texas Hill Country is allocating one-third of the $150 million in donations the Kerrville nonprofit has received in the wake of the flood to housing. It has distributed about $35 million for repairing and rebuilding homes, replacing recreational vehicles and manufactured homes and providing down-payment assistance for homebuyers.

About 130 households who received help from the foundation are living in stable housing once more, and another 98 households are in the process of finding options, said Austin Dickson, the organization's CEO. It has paid for more than 400 people to temporarily live in apartments and short-term rentals.

The foundation provided aid to people earning up to 150% of the median income in the area, or about $96,283 annually for one person, $109,970 annually for a couple and $137,438 for a family of four, Dickson said.

"Housing has been our single largest investment, because housing is the foundation upon which every other aspect of recovery depends," Dickson said. "When people have a safe and stable place to live, they can return to work, they can get their children back on routine, they can focus on their health again, their mental health, and begin rebuilding a normal life."

Slow process of recovery

A year after the Guadalupe River flood, a number of concrete slabs still sit along the river, all that's left of the houses that once stood there.

Home sales county-wide haven't nose-dived - about 490 houses changed hands between last July and this April, up from 472 during the same period a year earlier, according to the Texas Real Estate Research Center at Texas A&M University - but demand for riverfront properties plunged after the flood.

Some lots have remained on the market longer than they would have beforehand, and buyers weighing whether to build houses in the area are increasingly hesitant, said Caitlin Hamilton, a broker associate at Legacy Partners and president of the Kerrville Board of Realtors.

Buyers want to know whether a property is near the river and if they would have to get flood insurance. Real estate agents can typically consult federal flood maps, but they are not certain how those maps might change in the wake of the flood, Hamilton said.

"The flood shifted buyer preferences rather than eliminating demand, increasing the importance of location, flood history and insurability in purchasing decisions," Hamilton said.

Kerr County resident Wilbur Vance said he and his wife Maryanne decided to rebuild their home in Center Point in part because they likely would not have made much from selling the lot, which is 200 yards from the river.

With help from the Community Foundation, flood insurance, their own savings and other sources, the couple decided to demolish what was left of their home and built a bigger structure with several feet of elevation to prevent water from seeping in again. They lived in a recreational vehicle and rental housing during construction.

Vance, a Marine Corps veteran, had firsthand knowledge of what it would take after he spent more than 30 years building houses. He said he drew up the blueprints himself and carefully monitored progress. He estimated that building and furnishing the new house cost more than $200,000. The couple moved back into the house mid-June, a few weeks shy of one year after they left.

"Water, you just can't play with it," said Vance, 76. "This was a long development and a lot of exhausting maneuvers to get to this point, because you had to keep on top of it, had to talk to people from committees and everything, and organize everything, and then it was scheduling. But it come out, we're lucky."

The Ligons said it took nine months, upwards of $130,000 from various sources, dozens of dedicated volunteers, stacks of paperwork, piles of insulation and cabinetry and donated furniture to make their house habitable again.

The couple didn't have flood insurance because they thought it was expensive and unnecessary. In their home insurance policy they had coverage for $170,000 worth of household items and personal belongings. But they were told the policy didn't cover damage caused by flooding that originated outside their house.

A local church footed the bill for about $80,000 worth of repairs, and the Hunt Preservation Society paid for doors, windows, cabinets and a new septic system. Volunteers removed mud and heaps of ruined furniture, and helped install flooring and insulation. Strangers donated a couch, bed and desk along with towels, rugs and dishes. Jay installed plumbing for the kitchen and bathrooms.

In some cases, it took weeks for money to be disbursed and supplies like windows to arrive. But the Ligons made progress little by little.

Relatives sent checks and Jay's customers slipped envelopes of money into his hands. The owner of a building he rents for his business told him not to pay rent for three months, and Home Depot provided about $1,000 worth of tools to replace what he'd lost in the flood.

"It was beautiful," Shawn said. "It started to get easier."

Commercial property owners faced similar challenges piecing together financial help to fix their buildings.

A survey conducted by the Texas Division of Emergency Management found that two-thirds of the 79 business owners responding reported they had major damage to their property or the property was unsalvageable, according to a report by Texas A&M University's Hazard Reduction and Recovery Center.

Most of them owned their buildings but just 27% had home or flood insurance, which meant having to use savings, loans and money from family and friends to make repairs as little to no revenue from customers was coming in. But owners in some cases didn't qualify for loans or were reluctant to borrow money, and they didn't have deep pockets to dip into, said Michelle Annette Meyer, director of the center at A&M.

"It is incredibly challenging for small businesses," Meyer said.

'The bottom line was memories'

The owners of the River Inn Resort & Conference Center, which hosts reunions and retreats along a serene stretch of the river in Hunt, are still waiting to return.

Thirty of the 60 individually owned units and a building with communal tables and games were severely damaged by the flood, and a large deck overlooking the river washed away. The owners didn't have flood insurance, which would have cost about $120,000 annually and raised monthly homeowners' association fees from $525 to $800 a month for 30 years, said manager Scott Towery, who lives at the inn.

They considered whether to sell the property. Towery said commercial appraisers he brought in told him it was worth $3.5 million to $4.5 million, well below the $9 million it would need to fetch for the owners to at least break even on their investments. The owners also pondered turning the first floor of the buildings into storage or parking and building a third floor for the units they'd be removing from the second floor, until they learned elevators would be pricey.

Instead, most owners plan to hold on to their units and rebuild, largely because of the sentimental value that River Inn holds, Towery said. They will likely pay $33,000 to $35,000 for three assessments to shore up and strengthen the buildings, hire an architect and contractor and reconstruct the units. They will have to cover the costs of insulation, drywall, flooring and cabinets separately.

Patti Illing, a Marble Falls resident who owns one of the units, said she and her husband debated whether to rehabilitate it or sell it. They remodeled the unit in February and want to eventually pass it on to their children and grandchildren.

"The bottom line was memories, and the memories that are to be made," Illing said. "You cannot put a price tag on memories. It was a difficult decision."

Illing, 65, said she "fell in love" when she first visited River Inn some 20 years ago, and relaxing along the river with her young son and friends became a tradition. She spent a decade on a wait list to purchase a unit and finally bought hers about three years ago from someone who had owned it for about 40 years.

"It was God's country, that's all I can say," Illing said. "Once you hit those cypress trees, you literally were in a time machine. All your worries dissipated."

She said she was shocked when she arrived at the property after the flood. Trees and houses had disappeared, roads were washed out, cars were strewn on the river banks and clothing was hanging from branches. Her unit was full of mud, a bathroom window had blown out and a toilet and sink had been ripped from the wall.

"It was just devastating," Illing said.

Guests staying at River Inn on July 4 had woken up to Scott and his wife Connie pounding on their doors in the dark, urging them to escape as rain poured down.

Some families hopped in their cars, but as the river kept rising, it quickly became too late for others. Towery, 67, and two other men tied sheets together and hoisted about 50 people and six dogs onto a rooftop to escape the floodwaters. A large trash bin floating down the highway missed hitting him by inches.

He spent weeks working with volunteers to muck out rooms and make piles of ruined furniture, clothes and dishes. State crews cleared the river of big rocks, trees and pieces of metal.

Moving 'at a snail's pace'

Some owners have sold their units or are trying to. A father refused his daughter's plea to leave during the flood and clung to a utility pole to avoid being swept away. His daughter sold her unit without coming back to collect her belongings, Towery said, and her father also sold his unit.

A couple who worked at River Inn came back to grab their belongings and left, vowing never to return. An elderly couple who live in a house nearby had to cross two fences and run up a hill with their grandchildren to escape the floodwaters. They survived but they don't want to come back to their home, Towery said.

Alarms added to the property can blare warnings at 108 decibels, which Towery said gives him comfort about reopening River Inn. When state lawmakers toured Camp Mystic recently, Towery saw residents holding signs with the number of people who had died at different sites.

"That hit me, and I'm like, holy moly, it would have been the same here if my wife wouldn't have been up and listening to thunder and lightning, looking at the rain," Towery said.

Construction on the units could be finished by early 2027 and River Inn may begin taking reservations in late 2027 for stays in 2028, Towery said. But progress is slow, as contractors don't want to drive out to the remote property when they can get bigger jobs in cities closer by.

"We're moving forward," Towery said. "It's just at a snail's pace."

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