On the morning of July 4, 2025, as the United States celebrated Independence Day, a catastrophic flash flood tore through the Texas Hill Country, transforming a peaceful summer camp experience into a life-or-death struggle for survival. Among the many stories of resilience emerging from this tragedy, the account of brothers Piers and Ruffin Boyett, campers at Camp La Junta in Hunt, Texas, stands out as a testament to courage, quick thinking, and the strength of community in the face of disaster. Their story, marked by a desperate swim to safety as floodwaters engulfed their cabin, captures the chaos and heroism of that fateful night.

A Summer Camp Turned Nightmare

Camp La Junta, a century-old all-boys summer camp nestled along the banks of the Guadalupe River in Kerr County, Texas, is a place where young boys forge memories through outdoor activities, camaraderie, and adventure. For Piers and Ruffin Boyett, aged 11 and 14, respectively, the camp promised a summer of fun and bonding. They had arrived just days before, eager to participate in the camp’s traditions of kayaking, fishing, and campfire gatherings. However, the night of July 4 brought an unprecedented natural disaster that would test their resilience and forever alter their camp experience.

The Guadalupe River, typically a serene backdrop to the camp’s activities, became a raging torrent as remnants of Tropical Storm Barry dumped over a foot of rain in a matter of hours. The river rose an astonishing 26 feet in just 45 minutes, fueled by what meteorologists described as a “perfect storm” of steep terrain, shallow soil, and torrential rainfall in Texas’ infamous “Flash Flood Alley.” The National Weather Service had issued alerts, but the speed and ferocity of the flooding caught many off guard, including the staff and campers at La Junta and nearby camps like Camp Mystic, a Christian girls’ camp just five miles upriver.

The Flood Strikes

At approximately 4 a.m., the Boyett brothers were jolted awake by the chaos unfolding around them. Ruffin, the elder of the two, was the first to stir, unable to sleep due to the relentless lightning illuminating the night sky. “I couldn’t sleep because of the lightning,” he later told ABC affiliate KSAT. “People were screaming that there was a flood. There was a lot of water.” His younger brother, Piers, recounted the surreal moment when he realized the severity of the situation: “The flood started getting bigger. We had bunk beds in our cabins, and [the water] was going up to the top bunk. We had one choice — and we had to swim out of our cabin.”

The cabin, perched on a bluff overlooking the river, began to shake as water seeped through the walls and rose rapidly. Ruffin described the chilling realization that their cabin was floating: “Oh my God, we’re floating,” he recalled thinking, as the structure was lifted by the force of the floodwaters. The brothers, along with their fellow campers, scrambled to the rafters of the cabin to escape the rising water. The scene was one of utter chaos, with walls breaking down and debris swirling in the dark, debris-filled torrent.

In that critical moment, the boys faced a stark decision: stay in the collapsing cabin and risk being swept away or brave the dangerous waters to reach higher ground. With the guidance of their counselors, who were themselves awakened by the crisis, the campers made the split-second choice to swim. “We had one choice, and we had to swim out of our cabins,” Piers said, his voice steady despite the terror of the memory.

A Desperate Swim to Safety

The swim to safety was nothing short of harrowing. The floodwaters, filled with debris and moving with relentless force, posed a constant threat. The brothers and their fellow campers navigated the dark, relying on flashes of lightning and the dim glow of cellphone lights to guide their way. Counselors played a pivotal role, forming human chains and carrying younger boys to safety, some even slinging children over their shoulders to swim them to higher ground. One camper, 14-year-old Wyndham Etheridge, described the disorienting scene: “We didn’t really know what was going on around us because it was dark. We couldn’t see past the trees.”

The Boyett brothers eventually reached a cabin on a hillside, where they and nearly 400 other campers and counselors took refuge. For 17 hours, they waited in these higher-ground cabins, cut off from the outside world as the camp lost power, water, and communication. Helicopters later delivered food and water, courtesy of an anonymous local resident, as the camp’s dining hall had been flattened by the flood. The boys were eventually evacuated by bus, a moment of relief amidst the ongoing tragedy. “No one died, we’re thankful for that,” Ruffin said, patting his younger brother on the back as they recounted their ordeal to KSAT.

Heroism Amid Tragedy

While Camp La Junta miraculously reported no fatalities, the same could not be said for other camps and communities along the Guadalupe River. Just miles away, Camp Mystic, a Christian girls’ camp hosting approximately 750 campers, suffered catastrophic losses. At least 27 campers and counselors perished, and as of July 9, five girls and a 19-year-old counselor remained missing. The flood claimed the lives of young campers like 8-year-old Blakely McCrory, 9-year-old Janie Hunt, and sisters Hanna and Rebecca Lawrence, whose families mourned the loss of their vibrant spirits. The tragedy extended beyond the camps, with a total death toll reaching at least 120 across Central Texas, including 43 in Kerr County alone.

The heroism of Camp La Junta’s counselors was a beacon of hope in the disaster. Parents like Keli Rabon, whose sons Braeden and Brock Davis also survived the flood, praised the swift actions of the staff. “If it hadn’t been for them, it would have been a very different scenario with our boys,” said Georgie Brown, mother of 11-year-old camper Beau Brown. Counselors moved children to rafters, formed human chains, and braved the floodwaters to ensure every child was accounted for. One counselor, 19-year-old Owen Mackintosh, was awakened by the sound of pipes snapping as his cabin lurched into the river. He and others helped rescue a young Camp Mystic camper who had washed up near La Junta’s grounds, a small miracle amidst the devastation.

A Community in Mourning

The flooding in Kerr County was one of the deadliest natural disasters in Texas history, with over 170 people still missing as of July 9. The Guadalupe River basin, known for its scenic beauty and summer camps, has long been a draw for families and nature lovers. However, its limestone bed and steep terrain make it prone to flash flooding, a fact that has led to its designation as one of the three most dangerous regions for such disasters in the United States. The lack of effective warning systems, as admitted by Kerr County Judge Rob Kelly, has sparked scrutiny over the preparedness of camps like La Junta and Mystic, particularly regarding the placement of cabins near the river.

For the Boyett brothers, the experience was both terrifying and transformative. “Some cabins, like, flooded,” Piers told KSAT. “It flooded away, but nobody died (at the camp).” Their survival, while a source of immense relief, is tinged with sorrow for the families who were not as fortunate. Keli Rabon, reflecting on the broader tragedy, spoke of “survivor’s guilt” as she reunited with her sons, knowing that many parents were still searching for their children. “There is truly nothing that could prepare you for a moment of uncertainty, which became hours of uncertainty,” she told ABC News.

Recovery and Reflection

As Central Texas grapples with the aftermath of the floods, stories of survival like that of the Boyett brothers offer glimpses of hope amidst overwhelming grief. The community has rallied, with search and rescue operations involving helicopters, drones, and over 1,000 emergency personnel. Local residents, like Carl from Center Point, who helped rescue a 22-year-old woman clinging to a tree after being swept 20 miles downriver, embody the spirit of solidarity that has emerged in the wake of the disaster.

Camp La Junta’s owners, Scott and Katie Fineske, expressed profound gratitude for the safety of their campers while mourning the losses at Camp Mystic and beyond. “We grieve with the families of the Camp Mystic girls and with everyone affected by this tragedy,” they said in a statement. The camp, which has been a cornerstone of the Hunt community since 1928, now faces the daunting task of rebuilding, as does the broader Hill Country region.

For Piers and Ruffin Boyett, the memory of swimming for their lives will remain etched in their minds, a story of survival that will define their time at Camp La Junta. Their courage, bolstered by the quick actions of their counselors, serves as a reminder of the resilience of youth and the power of community in the face of nature’s fury. As Texas mourns, their story stands as a beacon of hope, a testament to the human spirit’s ability to endure even the most unimaginable challenges.