Published: Jan. 7, 2014 By

Lyons, Colo., is a great place to raise a family. It鈥檚 a great place to be a musician, an artist or a small business owner, a great place if you like the outdoors.

None of its 2,000 residents are there for the same reason, other than that it鈥檚 their great place. A self-sufficient mountain town nestled in the foothills on Highway 36 between Boulder and Estes Park 鈥 and at the confluence of the North and South St. Vrain Creeks 鈥 Lyons is the idealistic realization of those who call it home.

Which made the September floods all the more unsettling. Musicians and artists lost their studios and galleries; schools were shut down; trails, streets and highways broke into pieces, swallowed by mud. In the wee hours of Sept.12, when the sirens began to wail, people scrambled onto rocky hillsides or their own rooftops to elevate themselves above the roaring river that had somehow made its way to their doorsteps.

The St. Vrain ripped the town into six islands. All roads in and out crumbled. But somehow, despite panic and shock, the people of Lyons managed to get out of the water鈥檚 way. Once the rains subsided, they organized themselves and began the rebuilding process.

鈥淚t鈥檚 like everyone was given a role, and they knew what it was and how to do it,鈥 said Tamara Haddad, Lyons Chamber of Commerce administrator.

They needed immediate help, of course, and received it鈥攆rom FEMA, the Red Cross, Boulder County and volunteers around the state. But the recovery process has been largely internal, driven by the residents鈥 desires to preserve their personal utopias.

鈥淲e鈥檙e not as complex as a city鈥

Julie Van Domelen moved to Lyons in 2005 and became mayor four years later. A Colorado native, she spent almost two decades with the World Bank as a senior economist and was looking to settle down with her husband and young daughter.

Van Domelen still volunteers internationally, evaluating infrastructure development programs in third-world countries. She was in Tanzania when the flooding began and arrived back in Lyons four days later, constantly checking in with her family during the 96 hours of hellish travel.

By the time she returned, many residents had been evacuated and town administrator Victoria Simonsen was leading the remaining population, holding meetings in the open space of Sandstone Park, a couple of blocks from Main Street.

鈥淭hey were just on it,鈥 Van Domelen said. 鈥淟yons was on it, Boulder County was on it. All hands were on deck.鈥

Simonsen and other town officials continued to play an important part in the aftermath, but Van Domelen鈥檚 presence brought 鈥渁 great synergy,鈥 Tamara Haddad said.

鈥淚t became more than just organization at that point,鈥 Haddad said. 鈥淚t became a nurturing, empowering environment.鈥

Lyons set realistic goals for itself, independent of the larger post-flood initiatives led by the state and county governments. In the second half of September, many of the residents who lost their homes were living elsewhere. Some drove to Lyons during the day to take part in the relief effort; some stayed in town with neighbors, friends or family. Even those whose properties were undamaged had still lost basic amenities and were facing painful conversations with FEMA and insurance agents. But their collective focus was unwavering.

鈥淲e continued holding the public meetings to field questions and pass along important information,鈥 said Mayor Van Domelen, herself displaced by the disaster. 鈥淭he thing is, we鈥檙e not as complex as a city. You can go over to-do lists with everyone, take things day by day. People started seeing visible progress, and that鈥檚 important in remaining hopeful.鈥

In the first days after the weather cleared, residents communicated via handwritten notes they posted in town. They had no power, no cell service; there was no other way.

鈥淚t was just old school word-of-mouth,鈥 Haddad said. 鈥淭here was a period of time when the main thing everyone was worried about was making sure everyone else was accounted for. So a list of names went up, of people we didn鈥檛 know about. And they or someone who knew about them would come up and check them off the list and write, 鈥榊ep, they鈥檙e here.鈥欌

Lyons鈥檚 overwhelming to-do list became a string of accomplishments. Six weeks after the floods, people were coming home to stay. They were able to host the Halloween Parade that lights up Main Street every fall. Utilities returned in October and November, and residents could stop boiling their water. Businesses reopened, and after Thanksgiving break, kids who had been attending school in Longmont could finally do so in their own town.

Morale rose with every passing day. Residents decorated their homes with Christmas ornaments. Even the houses that had collapsed or been swept from their foundations had festive baubles hanging next to the bright red signs that meant 鈥渦ninhabitable.鈥

A 鈥渟ense of preparedness鈥

鈥淚 came. I fell in love. I stayed. I think I鈥檓 an ordinary story for these parts.鈥

Tamara Haddad has been doing it all since September. In addition to helping her neighbors through the acts of kindness that have become a standard part of daily life in Lyons, she oversees a variety of blossoming recovery efforts from her post in the Chamber of Commerce. She鈥檚 also become a sort of spokeswoman, speaking to the media and giving tours of the town.

Haddad was attracted to Lyons by 鈥渁 strong connection to the simplicity of the good living it offers,鈥 drawn by its independence and the fact that every shop is local.

The quaint white house she shared with her husband and two children wasn鈥檛 damaged, but they decided to move anyway 鈥 鈥渢o higher ground,鈥 she said. 鈥淵ou think there鈥檚 a romance to living along the river, but nope. Not anymore.鈥

There is another reason. A row of properties across the street from Haddad was destroyed; a woman who lived in one of them will be moving into Haddad鈥檚 former home.

Haddad wasn鈥檛 jolted by the flood sirens that sounded at 2 a.m. on Sept. 12. What roused her was her husband saying, 鈥淕et the kids.鈥

鈥淟ooking outside, it took a while to sink in how bad it was,鈥 she said. 鈥淭he water eventually got so high, houses were popping from their lots. The road bubbled up.鈥

People were being rescued soon after, but not by the National Guard 鈥 they wouldn鈥檛 arrive for another two days.

鈥淣eighbors were using their own equipment to get to others who were isolated,鈥 Haddad said. 鈥淪omehow, it never felt like chaos. At one point, I saw a mom and her kids and their Sheltie being driven from their home in a neighbor鈥檚 backhoe. I still get goosebumps thinking about it.鈥

Lyons resident Jason Bowen, a model and actor who commutes to Denver for work, was on his way to check on a friend鈥檚 elderly parents when he saw a family of seven struggling to hike above four feet of raging water. Bowen climbed over debris and waded through the shallowest level he could find to get to them.

鈥淭hey told me they had started hiking at 10 a.m.,鈥 Bowen said. 鈥淚t was 6 p.m. They were exhausted and didn鈥檛 know where to go.鈥

Bowen led them safely to his neighbor鈥檚, where the family stayed for three days.

Later, Lyons mourned the loss of 80-year-old Gerald Boland, who had moved to town in 1959. Somehow, despite the treacherous conditions, his was the only death, a 鈥渟tunning鈥 tribute to the town鈥檚 internal organization, Mayor Van Domelen said.

鈥淲here Lyons is located, we鈥檙e aware of the flood risks, but you don鈥檛 think it鈥檚 ever actually going to happen,鈥 she said. 鈥淏ut there was this sense of preparedness.鈥

When the National Guard did arrive, Lyons was relieved; they were finally connected to the outside world. And they could give their rescue vehicles 鈥 tractors, riding lawnmowers 鈥 a rest.

鈥淩estoring Lyons鈥

River silt will still dust anything that remains motionless for too long, but Lyons has found some sense of normalcy. It faces $50 million in overall damage and will be defined by the recovery for years to come, but the people, for the most part, have their lives back.

Jason Bowen is helping his friend Jeremy Ragland remodel a building on Main Street that was formerly an antique shop. It will serve as a place for community get-togethers, meetings of the minds for propelling Lyons into the New Year and beyond. That had always been the plan, even before September.

鈥淚t鈥檚 become especially important now, after the flood,鈥 Ragland said. 鈥淚t鈥檒l be a place of higher consciousness, greater ideas. A think tank.鈥

Lyons has always fostered expression. An artistic haven for almost half a century, it brought in people who were disenchanted by the growth of larger cities and looking for a more intimate environment. Its reputation and affordability drew Candace Shepherd here 26 years ago.

鈥淚t has a great history of being accessible, otherwise artists couldn鈥檛 move in,鈥 Shepard said. 鈥淏ut it鈥檚 the lower-income housing that sits along the confluence that was hurt the most. Restoring that will be restoring Lyons.鈥

Shepard鈥檚 studio space stayed dry during the floods, but her house, only one lot away, did not fare as well. Volunteers from the Denver region of AmeriCorps spent days digging out the silt that had filled her basement and threatened the home鈥檚 structure. But everything is relative. 鈥淚鈥檓 fine,鈥 she said simply. 鈥淓verybody is doing hard things.鈥

There are plenty of long-term issues moving forward, many of which will be influenced by state and Boulder County legislation. The town needs federal aid to enhance the stability it has provided itself.

Lyons has received approximately $4.9 million in FEMA grant money since September, according to FEMA spokesman John Mills. On a case-by-case basis for 1,194 households, FEMA dispersed $2.6 million in rental assistance and $2.3 million in other needs: home repairs, replacement of personal property, medical expenses.

鈥淭here is no blanket amount of money,鈥 Mills said. 鈥淎ssistance is determined by individual family situations and basic needs.鈥

Despite the variety of relief efforts, the town is still visibly scarred. Bohn Park in central Lyons was decimated. As recently as December, benches were splintered and tangled with tree branches, and the water carved out such a wide path it looks as if the once-green sprawl is an enormous, dried-out riverbed.

Somehow, a children鈥檚 playground was spared, sitting untouched atop a grassy knoll. The newly forged path of the river swerves around it. Lyons residents are grateful. Their town is a great place for kids.