When rain began pounding the Big Thompson Canyon on the evening of July 31, 1976, Dave Thomas was at home, unaware that Colorado’s deadliest flash flood was already beginning to unfold.
By the following morning, the 30-year-old news director at Estes Park’s only radio station had abandoned plans to hike Mount Chapin, Chiquita Mountain, and Ypsilon Mountain with Gov. Richard Lamm to celebrate Colorado’s centennial as the nation’s 38th state. The climb was part of the Great Colorado Centennial Fourteener Climb, a statewide effort to send climbing parties to 55 of Colorado’s 14,000-foot peaks on Aug. 1.
Instead, Thomas found himself documenting one of the state’s worst natural disasters, becoming the first local broadcaster to report from the devastated canyon.
Nearly 50 years later, the memories remain vivid.
“I remember things I’d much rather forget,” Thomas said during a recent interview with the Estes Valley Voice. “There’s no one around to tell this but me.” He also said this was the first time in 50 years he had been asked to share his memories as a member of the media.
Thomas, who had been in Estes Park just over a year working as the news director at KSIR radio, received a phone call around 8 p.m. on July 31 from station owner Stan Pratt. Pratt had been monitoring a police scanner and sensed something serious was happening in the canyon.
“He called and said, ‘Something’s going on,’” Thomas recalled.
When Thomas called the local police dispatch for information, he said he was told there were only “a few rockslides” and that the river had risen, but “it’s all under control.”
“I didn’t believe what she just told me,” Thomas said.
A town hall filled with stranded travelers
Early the next morning, before what should have been Colorado Day festivities with the governor, Thomas drove downtown to Town Hall. The parking lot was nearly full. He thought that was unusual for a Sunday morning. Inside, he found people sleeping on the floor. But there were no officials.
Visitors who had been staying in the Big Thompson Canyon or traveling through the area were stranded. Highway 34 had been destroyed. Highway 36 also had been cut by floodwater. Many were effectively stranded in Estes Park.
“I walked in and found all these people sleeping in there,” Thomas said. “That’s exactly what I saw,” pointing to a photo in a soft-cover pictorial book, “The Big Thompson Flood,” that includes several of his photos.
Seeking answers, he persuaded Larimer County Sheriff’s Deputy Leo Baker to explain what had happened. Baker described the horror of seeing cars in the river, homes swept away, propane tanks floating downstream, and missing people.As the veteran deputy spoke, he broke down, Thomas said.
“He started crying,” Thomas recalled. “I thought, this is really bad. If Leo Baker is crying, this is really bad.” And it was.
First look into the canyon
Thomas convinced authorities to allow him to accompany Sheriff’s Deputy Billy Banks into the canyon. Almost immediately beyond Mall Road, the destruction became apparent, Thomas said.
There were cars in the river, twisted trees, twisted bushes, and debris everywhere, recalled Thomas.
The two men waded through cold, muddy water, looking inside overturned vehicles, beneath trees, and into damaged buildings, expecting to find survivors — or victims.
“We fully expected we were going to find some bodies,” Thomas said.
They found none before reaching a point where the roadway had disappeared entirely, forcing them to turn back.
Thomas returned to KSIR and prepared what he believes was the first local radio report describing the disaster.
“I put the first report on the air about the flood,” he said.
A hike that never happened
The morning had been scheduled very differently.
Thomas had been invited to accompany the governor on a hike through Rocky Mountain National Park to mark the 100th anniversary of Colorado statehood. By sunrise, those plans had vanished.
“I knew I wasn’t going hiking,” Thomas said. “I knew the governor was going to cancel.”
Days later, however, Lamm invited Thomas aboard a helicopter for an aerial assessment of the flood damage. Thomas said it was his first helicopter ride, and it was quite the experience to witness the otherworldly destruction in Big Thompson Canyon.
Several weeks afterward, the governor returned to Estes Park with first lady Dottie Lamm to reassure visitors that the community remained “open for business.” Thomas joined the governor, Mayor Harry Tregent, and other civic leaders for a dinner at The Stanley Hotel to promote the town’s recovery.
Showing the police chief
As the morning of August 1 unfolded, Thomas realized another problem.
Communications in 1976 bore little resemblance to today’s interconnected emergency systems. The flooding had occurred outside Estes Park’s municipal limits, and both primary highways into town had been severed.
By about 10 a.m., Thomas learned Estes Park Police Chief Bob Ault had not yet seen the devastation firsthand. Rather than simply describe it, Thomas took him to see it.
They first visited the massive washout on U.S. 36 before traveling toward the Big Thompson Canyon, where they encountered recovery crews working to remove the bodies of flood victims trapped beneath an overturned vehicle.
“Emergency communications 50 years ago were not what they are today,” Thomas said. “There was no communication.”
One memory has never left him. After filing his first broadcast, Thomas drove through downtown Estes Park. Shops were open. Visitors wandered sidewalks with coffee cups and candy apples. Many had no idea that one of Colorado’s greatest disasters had just occurred only a few miles away.
“I wanted to roll down my window and say, ‘Do any of you know what just happened down there?’” Thomas said.
“It was utter shock for me.”
Without social media, cell phones, or instant alerts, news spread slowly. Newspapers would not publish flood coverage until the following day. Radio became the community’s primary source of information.
Correcting the national narrative and providing local perspective
As national coverage intensified, Thomas found himself correcting misinformation.
ABC commentator Paul Harvey mistakenly reported that Estes Park itself had been “wiped off the map.”
Thomas contacted ABC News and recorded a report explaining that while the highways into town had been devastated, the community itself remained largely intact.
“The town itself is still intact,” Thomas said. “There is virtually no damage in the town.”
Although the correction aired, he said Harvey never publicly retracted his original report.
As questions arose about whether media coverage was overstating the disaster and damaging tourism, Thomas invited Corky Rogers, executive director of the Estes Park Chamber of Commerce, to see the canyon for himself.
Thomas drove Rogers as far as the washed-out highway allowed, then watched as he walked alone through the devastation. When Rogers returned, tears filled his eyes. “I’m so sorry,” he told Thomas. “I had no idea it was this bad.”
Thomas said taking Rogers to see the damage helped convince local business leaders that news reports accurately reflected the scale of the catastrophe and were not exaggerating the destruction.
Local journalism’s lasting role
Looking back, Thomas believes the flood demonstrated why local, boots-on-the-ground journalism matters. Large news organizations eventually arrived, but in the crucial first hours, the only people able to tell Estes Park’s story were those already there.
He credits station owner Stan Pratt with supporting accurate reporting despite concerns from some business leaders that extensive coverage might discourage tourism.
“Stan knew we had to tell the truth,” Thomas said.
Today, nearly everyone who worked alongside him during the flood has died or moved away. Pratt is gone. Deputies Leo Baker and Billy Banks are gone. Police Chief Bob Ault is gone. Many of the broadcasters and photographers who documented those days are no longer alive. Thomas said that reality is one reason he decided to share his story publicly.
“You’re the very first media person I’ve shared this story with in 50 years,” he said. “Nobody has ever asked me any questions about the Big Thompson Flood.”
Thomas hopes sharing his memories helps preserve an important chapter of Estes Park’s history — not simply the destruction, but the vital role local reporting played in helping a community understand what had happened while it was still unfolding.
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