A River Changed Forever

My recent search and rescue (SAR) experience will stay with me for a long time. It wasn’t just the physical toll or the long hours in unimaginable terrain, it was the terrible loss of life that settled in once on the ground. The flood came hard and fast, overwhelming everything in its path: roads, bridged, homes, families. By the time we deployed to our search area, the scale of destruction was painfully evident. The debris and damage was a painful reminder that nature doesn’t discriminate. It takes what it wants, when it wants. I’ve seen mother natures wrath many times in my life, but this was different.

But amid the devastation, what struck me most was the resilience of the survivors and the unwavering commitment of the volunteers. For those who want to support the people impacted by Kerr County flood, this charity is doing great work.  In all the chaos, there were moments of raw humanity. We covered a lot of terrain searching and it felt good to be helping, but there was still the weight of it all. Fortunately for me, my friends who lived in the area dodged a major bullet and I’m very thankful.

Childhood Memories, Shattered Terrain

This event struck a deeper chord with me because it took place along the Guadalupe River, a place woven into my earliest memories. As a child, I spent slow mornings fishing from its banks, listening to the water roll over the rocks, my father beside me, teaching me patience and silence. Later, as a teenager, I floated down those same waters with friends in the heat of summer, carefree and sunburned, the current gently pushing us along. That river had always been a source of fond memories. To return to it under these tragic circumstances was jarring. It didn’t feel like the same river.

This time, the Guadalupe was different—faster, muddier, and full of hidden hazards. The places I once knew were hard to recognize under layers of silt and debris. Our SAR job was to move methodically, check, mark cleared areas, and coordinate with other teams to ensure nothing was missed or overlooked. I’m not kidding, the terrain and topography had been completely changed. Seeing the high water line 20-30 feet in the tree line was very humbling. I saw trashcan precariously perched on a tree limb that I swear was at least 25 feet above ground. Just imagine how it got there.

First Line Gear

Over my lifetime I’ve come to rely on my gear. Many times it has saved my life and others allowed me to do my job at elite levels. The SAR call was last minute, like the night before so I had to rummage through my stuff to organize my gear. Like anything, the temptation to pack more than you need is always there, but old age was yelling at me to keep it light. The most important thing to me was not to become a distraction because I got injured or became a heat casualty so protective gear and equipment to support that was high on my list. After a couple of hours I managed to put together a good loadout that did extremely well. I’m fortunate, over the years I’ve worked with some amazing companies and the ones I highlighted here come highly recommended.

As I moved through the landscape, one thing became clear: I wasn’t as nimble as I once was. Once we were inserted there was a sense of familiarity; patrolling. Instead of looking for booby traps, I was looking for signs that could lead to locating flood victims. It had been a while since I was in that type of environment, but it didn’t take long for my senses to come alive on this SAR mission and get busy. Here are some lessons learned about my gear as well as what I’d do differently if I had to do this again. My first line gear started with my 5.11 pants, the kind of rugged, reliable gear you don’t think about because it simply does what it’s supposed to do. My Salomon ankle-high boots were already broken in and proved invaluable as we crossed submerged debris and slippery terrain. The Wilderness Tactical Instructor belt held tight, no matter how much gear I had to clip on or shift around. On it was my truth Montana Knife Company TF24 blade. When you’re in the middle of a flooded wasteland, you learn to appreciate the little things that work without needing attention and something I took for granted was my BlackDiamond ski/probe pole from the good ole days. That thing saved my butt, literally from slipping and sliding all over the place. Mechanix gloves reminded me of how important it is to protect your hands. The biggest lesson learned was not wearing a long sleeve shirt. I had one in my pack, but it was too hot to add an extra layer. Need to find a lightweight long sleeve shirt that keeps the sun off, but is highly breathable. I also wish I had a better sheath for field operations.

Second Line Gear

My second line gear started with the First Spear EXP 24-hour backpack. I kept everyone in that to get as much off my waistline. Inside was my Nalgene bottle, I have no idea how many bottles of water I went through, but I started out with a full Nalgene bottle and 5 water bottles. I’m pretty sure during the resupply I added at least 3 more water bottles. The secret weapon was LMNT hydration packets. I love these things and I probably went through 4 or 5 of those packets. They definitely helped stay hydrated and keep my focus sharp. My Garmin GPSMAP unit stayed close at hand and was a huge help in tracking our location and progress. Not nearly as sexy as some of the newer options, but it worked. It took me a little bit to get back to navigating, but not long. While we had a Starlink WiFi accessibility on the support vehicle, when they went to support other teams we lost comms for the most part; which meant the phones maps and trackers were also suspicious. Even though it is old, it is not obsolete. Snacks were key and I was pretty much low on high energy snacks so I had some venison and granola bars.

While we were never too far away from our SAR support team, preparation is key. These items never saw the light of day and that’s a good thing. For illumination and signaling I went with my Petzl headlamp and SureFire Stiletto flashlight along with a HV marker panel and jumbo Sharpie marker. A small pair of binos just in case. The times I’ve broken out my field notes book and pencil are too many to list, but jotting down grid coordinates and phone numbers reminded me why it is always important to have something to write with and write on. My Leatherman multi-tool and only wish I still had the belt sheath. Spare batteries for my GPS and an external battery pack were in a ziplock bag. For medical, I went pretty light. Just a tourniquet, wet wipes, bug spray, a bandana and ear plugs. I know it sounds silly, but having done personal recovery before a trick I learned was to shove them up your nose.

Brotherhood in Action

But all of that gear, as essential as it was, took a backseat to the people I worked with during this SAR mission. My team included a former frogman whose presence alone brought a kind of calm clarity. We didn’t have to talk much. From the moment we got boots on the ground, we were aligned in task and purpose. There was an unspoken rhythm to it: scan, assess, move, search. It reminded me that real professionalism doesn’t need a lot of noise. It’s quiet, focused, and utterly relentless. These guys and the rest of the volunteers were amazing and I’m honored to have worked with them.

A Community United

And we weren’t alone. The outpouring of support from local communities, volunteers, and other organizations was humbling. People showed up with food, beverages, places to rest, even just to say thank you. It matters. That kind of human response cuts through the fatigue, sharpens your resolve, and reminds you of the why. The professionalism from fellow agencies was equally remarkable. Fire, EMS, law enforcement, National Guard—everyone showed up with one goal in mind: help. You saw it in the way people handled themselves, how they shared information, how egos were checked at the door. No one was there to grandstand. Everyone was there to serve. Could things have been done better, more efficiently…of course. But, it was still an impressive feat to see how well things did go and the learning that took place along the way. I could easily see myself getting more involved in this type of SAR work.

What Remains

What I take from this experience isn’t just the shared trauma, although that’s part of it. It’s the reminder that we prepare for a reason. That gear matters, but mindset matters more. That teammates make the mission possible. And that in the face of nature’s worst, humanity often shows its best. I’ll carry those lessons with me, just like I carry the memory of the flood’s fury, the faces of those we helped, and the silence of those we couldn’t. This work is not for recognition. It is for responsibility. And when the call comes again, I will answer—ready, equipped, and focused for as long as possible.