It’s been a year since the muddy floodwaters of Big Sandy Creek destroyed her home, and Brandy Gerstner is still living in an RV.
Along the creek, no network of gauges or sirens has appeared — even though the flood that caught everyone by surprise after 1 a.m. last July 5 killed eight of Gerstner’s neighbors and swept away her sister, who narrowly survived.
Even now, orange and white barricades line the washed-out edges of the low-water crossing on Juniper Trail — the only passage for Gerstner and some neighbors in northwest Travis County — because crews have not yet rebuilt it. A downpour last month further eroded the sides.
Last year’s flood ended in a matter of hours.
The disaster continues.
Government agencies are capable of mobilizing quickly when floodwaters strike. But emergencies don’t end when the water recedes, and agencies must bring that same urgency to the task of repairing and rebuilding. Instead, Sandy Creek’s recovery has felt more like a crawl. Bureaucracies return to ordinary speed even as survivors remain in crisis. And the philanthropy dollars so crucial to rebuilding flow unevenly.
Frustrated Sandy Creek residents have a term for the past 12 months: “the storm after the storm.”
“I thought living through the flood was the hardest,” Gerstner told us from her RV on the northwest Travis farm that’s been in her family for generations. “But this last year fighting the system has been so much harder.”
Solutions are possible at every level of government. Travis County could fast-track all disaster-related projects, such as road repairs, so that each department prioritizes this work above other routine tasks. Congress could stop forcing disaster victims to wait on annual appropriations. Texas could establish a dedicated recovery fund so communities aren’t left scrambling after every catastrophe.
Disasters don’t arrive with our permission, but we have a choice in designing the systems that either accelerate recovery or prolong it.
Urgency drained away
The 2025 Central Texas floods over the July 4 weekend killed at least 135 people and destroyed hundreds of homes as flood alerts sounded in 11 counties. Communities tied to the rhythm of river life were now part of one of the deadliest natural disasters in modern Texas history.
Some government action came quickly. Gov. Greg Abbott signed Senate Bill 5, providing $294 million for recovery efforts and siren systems.
Travis County commissioners pushed through a one-time disaster tax hike that raised $42 million. Such a bold move should have translated into fast-tracked recovery efforts.
Some of that happened. Travis County quickly repaired Sandy Creek Bridge. Vast swaths of uprooted trees and debris, enough to fill 104 standard Olympic swimming pools, were carted away.
Yet too little has changed for Sandy Creek residents who remain without homes or crucial infrastructure upgrades.
The question isn’t whether people care. It’s which communities remain visible after the floodwaters recede.
Nation’s eyes on Kerr County
Much of last summer’s devastation was concentrated in Kerr County, where the flooding of the Guadalupe River killed 119 people, including 27 campers and counselors at Camp Mystic. The nation watched with horror and heartbreak.
As awful as the destruction was, the scale of it generated something essential: urgency.
Legislative hearings focused on Kerr County led to state aid, including funding for warning sirens. By May, historically the rainiest month of the year, the Upper Guadalupe River Authority had installed the first sirens along the river.
Many Kerr residents who lost homes did not have flood insurance, so a torrent of philanthropy dollars buoyed their recovery. The Community Foundation of the Texas Hill Country has distributed $82 million so far for housing and other recovery efforts, and more than 130 Kerr County families are back in permanent housing, with dozens more close behind. Recovery is far from over, but progress is tangible.
The Hill Country survivors deserved every bit of that support, especially with Kerr County suffering so much of the losses. The problem is that Sandy Creek did not receive a similar outpouring scaled to its need.
Travis County logged 115 homes with some level of flood damage; Sandy Creek residents say about 74 of those homes were destroyed.
Even with Travis County waiving the permitting fees, only two have been rebuilt.
To their credit, officials here promptly established and promoted the Travis County CARES fund to support disaster relief. So far that philanthropic effort has distributed more than $6.1 million, on top of the $4.3 million from the Federal Emergency Management Agency.Every bit helps. Yet it has not been enough for most residents to rebuild, especially since less than 3% of them had flood insurance and the cost of building elevated homes is significantly higher. Some, like Gerstner, are still fighting with their insurance company.
Recovery is always a long game, said Janis Bookout, executive director of the Travis County Recovery Alliance. While the process in some ways has only just begun, she said, “I am hearing the exhaustion, resignation and frustration with the experience.”
Other funding stalled
Recovery should not hinge on whether a disaster commands national attention. Philanthropy plays a crucial role. But the rebuilding efforts in less visible communities will stall unless federal and state aid are more readily available. Such funding is necessary not only because our neighbors remain in crisis, but because the alternative — a prolonged recovery — saps the economic strength of families and communities.
At the federal level, some of the housing recovery money comes through Community Development Block Grant-Disaster Recovery funds through the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development. Congress allots the money a year at a time: For instance, funding for 2024 disasters was approved in January 2025.
But Congress has not yet approved CDBG-DR funding for the disasters that occurred in 2025 — an inexcusable delay while flood victims are still living in RVs.
Congress should make those dollars a recurring part of the annual budget instead of making victims wait.
The state also has the resources — its $25 billion reserve — that could help expedite recovery.
“You don’t think 22 inches is enough reason to open that Rainy Day Fund? It’s in the name,” Gerstner said, exasperated.
She and other survivors have urged Abbott to put $500 million of that into a Texas Forever Fund for disaster response. The governor remains noncommittal, although spokesman Andrew Mahaleris told us Abbott and the state “continue to use all necessary resources to help Texans recover and rebuild from last year’s disastrous flooding.”
Creating a Texas Forever Fund would show that.
Fast-track flood projects
The recovery delays at the county level are largely wrapped in red tape.
All roads are passable, but the long-term fixes to at least nine road projects, most of them low-water crossings, are still not done a year after the disaster.
The projects remain bogged down in the normal sequence of easements, engineering, procurement and legal review, with each department operating at its own pace.
“I wish it were faster,” said County Commissioner Ann Howard, who has been making house calls to try to get residents to provide easements. “It’s not that we’re not working toward the goal.”
Still, the impact of the delays is real: Summer rains temporarily submerge the same low spots that flooded last year. Continued erosion makes those roads less stable. Residents are concerned some passages would not be strong enough to support the heavy equipment that will be needed to build their homes, whenever the money for that comes through.
County Judge Andy Brown acknowledged that for flood survivors, the “stress and the trauma of seeing work still going on out there is real.”
“We are doing everything that we can to work through the many legal processes that counties are required to work through to build infrastructure,” he told us.
The intentions are good, but the urgency has faded. Brown should direct each department to move the disaster-related projects to the front of the line, not wait their turn behind other county business.
If a disaster is significant enough to prompt Travis commissioners to enact the maximum disaster-related property tax hike allowed without voter approval, that disaster deserves the continued urgency of emergency-level response.
Move swiftly on warning systems
Because it is only a matter of time before the next flood, wildfire or disaster strikes, Travis County should prepare to be more nimble. Other communities have designed the blueprint.
Battle-tested by hurricanes and tropical storms, Florida’s Hillsborough County created its Post-Disaster Redevelopment Plan to expedite the recovery phase. It does this by having pre-engineered plans for culverts and bridges ready to go; a pool of pre-approved contractors under master contracts who can immediately get to work; and a policy directing county departments, such as those handling easements and environmental review, to prioritize disaster-related repairs over other work.
Similar urgency is needed with the addition of flood gauges along demonstrably deadly waterways like Big Sandy Creek. Under SB5, Travis County is eligible for up to $1.25 million in reimbursement from the state toward sirens and warning systems across the county, if it submits a plan by December. Systems might not go up until later next year — potentially two rainy seasons after the 2025 flood.
Money shouldn’t be a problem: Travis County still has about $14 million that hasn’t been spent from the disaster tax hike.
The delay is the stuff of bureaucracy — consulting experts, conferring with Austin and other local governments, going through the bidding process.
We recognize those are necessary steps. Brown should fast-track them, recognizing the pressing need to install life-saving technologies in the places where 10 people died last year.
The aftermath is an emergency
As long as Sandy Creek residents are living out of RVs and driving through unfixed low-water crossings, the crisis continues. Government officials at every level have work to do.
“We’re not asking for a spa day,” said Sue Winsett, who’s been living in an RV since last year’s flood washed away her home. “Can we just have asphalt and a road, and concrete and safety?”
Ashlee Willis, Gerstner’s daughter, is also living in an RV on the family’s farm. Sometimes she stands on a small bridge over Big Sandy Creek and closes her eyes, soothed by the gentle burbling of the creek. Then she opens her eyes and remembers she’s still in a disaster zone.
“I feel like whether it’s the county or the state or the federal government, we are numbers on a spreadsheet, and that’s not what I see when I’m doing this,” said Willis, part of the Sandy Creek Alliance lobbying for more help. “I see human lives. People are still hugely traumatized. People are struggling.”
A specific flood or wildfire may strike with little warning. But we know disasters will occur. Experts have warned we’ll see more of them, and the possibility of a diminished FEMA will put greater pressure on state and local officials to manage the largest disasters.
It’s past time to build a long-term recovery system that moves with the same urgency as disaster response. The aftermath is every bit an emergency, too.
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