Still swamped

Aug. 20—A torrent of water shattered a window and awakened Shaun Miller out of a deep sleep on a foggy winter morning. Almost instantly, the water was so deep it had practically glued the bedroom door shut.

Simultaneously startled and disoriented by the potentially deadly threat, Miller tore the door from its hinges to free himself and his girlfriend from the rising flood at their home near Sunset Park in Lewiston.

Less than a mile away, down a normally quiet ravine, a similar chaotic scene was unfolding at the home of Ramon and Audry Royce.

Audry Royce's sleep was disrupted by what sounded like a storm on a metal roof, followed by breaking glass and their dog barking. She woke up her husband.

"I felt the house shift," he said. "It hit us with such force it was hard to describe."

Thinking it was an intruder, he headed to their basement ready to fight for the safety of his family.

"I switched the light on," he said. "I wasn't prepared for what I saw down there, trees and stumps floating, logs."

The water was at least 5 feet high, but he walked through the foaming water in an attempt to shut off the home's water line, initially not realizing the water was coming from outside.

It wasn't until they called 911 that they discovered the source of the water.

It came from a 3.5-million-gallon flood unleashed on Jan. 18 when a wall on one of the city's largest reservoirs collapsed, happening so quickly few in its path could be warned. (See accompanying story.)

Since that time, both families measure the toll the disaster took in losses that frequently seem invisible to everyone but themselves.

"It almost feels like everyone's forgotten about this whole thing," said Jessica Crawford, Miller's girlfriend. "It was big news, the day or two after and then it's like no one even remembers what happened."

Miller, an employee of the Lewiston Orchards Irrigation District, Crawford and the Royces are living in limbo more than six months after the disaster.

With varying degrees of frustration and thousands of dollars, they have been struggling to restore their lives one missing possession at a time.

So far, they said, they haven't received any money from the city of Lewiston or communication from the city about the status of claims filed.

"The city does not comment on matters related to potential litigation," said Kayla Hermann, Lewiston city attorney in an email.

Miller and Crawford, two of those hit hardest by the disaster, encountered obstacles as they tried to miss as little work as possible.

All of Miller's clothing, even basics like socks and underwear, washed down the gully the day the reservoir failed. He retrieved his wallet from the mud that day after spotting his belt in the muck.

The flood disrupted the electricity and secure connection to wireless internet in the home office where she works as clinical intake and correspondence specialist for Regence Blue Shield of Idaho.

The deluge ruined the home's water tank, furnace, air conditioning, electrical wiring, basement drywall, clothes washer and dryer and carpet. They have been paying rent for a house and covering their mortgage.

The recreational vehicle where they spent as many weekends as possible with family and friends is gone.

They sold it to pay the $39,000 for initial remediation to remove water and mud before they caused structural damage or spawned mold.

They've lost countless possessions. Some, like their son's high school yearbook and numerous trophies for dirt bike racing, will never be recovered.

Others, like furniture, bathroom fixtures and electronics, will be expensive to replace. And that is just on the inside of the house. Outside, the water scoured away a portion of the backyard and left a sewer line exposed.

The danger they faced the day the reservoir failed along with the ongoing stress of not knowing how much money, if any, they will receive for their claim is creating a strain.

The modest, secure lifestyle they enjoyed is threatened, replaced by uncertainty about what the future holds.

Miller still has trouble sleeping. Any small noise awakens him and makes him think the flood might be returning.

"It creates a financial hardship along with the emotional hardship," he said. "No one from the city has ever reached out with condolences. All we ever heard from them was, 'Hey, it's on your property. It's not our gig."

Like Miller and Crawford, the Royces and their four children were displaced from their home, but they were able to return after about six weeks.

Besides the water in their basement, most of their backyard turned into a 6-foot-deep lake for about three hours until the water receded.

They took a large hit because part of the city's stormwater system runs underneath the western edge of their property and is designed to collect from two ravines when it rains. But the pipe was way too small to handle the volume of water released by the broken reservoir.

"It landed here, stayed here and drained here," she said.

It was only after the water receded that they began to comprehend the dangers in their home.

Their youngest child, Eugene, was crawling and soon started vomiting, they think from the dirt they couldn't help but track upstairs as they tried to clean the basement.

Then they started noticing new cracks in the ceiling and realized they needed to have the house inspected by engineers to be sure it was sound.

The electrical wiring, heating, air conditioning and ventilation system, a freezer, washer and dryer, built-in cabinets, family pictures, as well as lawn tools, are on a lengthy list of what was destroyed.

The freezer contained deer, elk and antelope meat he had harvested, food that the family considered an insurance policy of sorts.

Outside, what he had turned into a park-like setting with a swing set for their children in their more than five years in the house was ruined.

The water undermined a retaining wall that could run as much as $100,000 to repair. Weeds are growing more than 6 feet tall in what last year were raised garden beds.

In their claim with the city of Lewiston, the Royces estimate their losses at $875,000, an amount well beyond their means, they said. He is an instructor at Lewis-Clark State College who teaches Child Protective Services employees and she is a stay-at-home mom.

"Every single cent is accounted for in our family budget, so there's not anything wasted at all," she said. "It's pretty scary. When it's a make-or-break situation where it's like, is this going to cause us to file for bankruptcy over something that wasn't our fault?"

Much of their spare time has been consumed by documenting the damage for their claim with the city.

"We've been patient," she said. "We've done everything that has been asked of us."

It will take more than repairs to restore what the flood demolished, she said.

Anxiety frequently supplants the comfort she once felt in her home. Every time it rains, she wonders if another deluge of water is heading in the direction of her family.

"I don't feel peaceful here anymore, like your home is supposed to be," she said. "That's been the hardest part for me because this was our dream home."

Williams may be contacted at ewilliam@lmtribune.com or (208) 848-2261.