On July 4, 2025, the tranquil banks of the Guadalupe River in Texas became the site of one of the deadliest floods in recent U.S. history. At Camp Mystic, a prestigious all-girls Christian summer camp near Kerrville, 27 campers and counselors lost their lives as the river, swollen by torrential rains, rose from 14 feet to nearly 30 feet in the span of a single hour. Now, just over a year later, Camp Mystic’s owners, the Eastland family, have announced plans to partially reopen the camp for the summer 2026 season—a decision that has ignited deep controversy, heartbreak, and debate across Texas and beyond.
In a series of emails sent on September 22, 2025, to families of past and prospective campers, as well as to those who lost loved ones in the disaster, the Eastland family laid out their intentions. The camp’s Cypress Lake location, about a half-mile from the devastated riverfront site, will resume operations next year. However, the section of the camp along the Guadalupe River—where cabins were swept away and lives were lost—will remain closed indefinitely. "We are not only rebuilding cabins and trails, but also a place where laughter, friendship and spiritual growth will continue to flourish," the Eastlands wrote, according to USA Today and CBS Austin. "As we work to finalize plans, we will do so in a way that’s mindful of those we have lost."
Central to the camp’s reopening plan is the creation of a memorial to honor the 27 victims. The Eastlands described their vision for the memorial in communications obtained by the Associated Press: "In the memorial’s design, we will strive to capture the beauty, kindness and grace they all shared, while focusing on the joy they carried and will always inspire in us all." The hope, they said, is that this space will serve as a place of reflection and remembrance for families, friends, and future campers alike.
Yet this gesture has been met with fierce criticism from many bereaved families. For them, the pain of loss is still raw—made sharper by the fact that, as of late September 2025, the body of 8-year-old Cile Steward remains missing. Her mother, Cici Steward, voiced her anguish in a statement quoted by The New York Times and The Telegraph: "The truth is, Camp Mystic failed our daughters. Recovery teams are still out there, scouring the river, risking and sacrificing so much to find her so we can finally lay her to rest. For their efforts, we are eternally grateful. Camp Mystic, however, has only added to our grief." She continued, "For my family, these months have felt like an eternity. For the camp, it seems like nothing more than a brief pause before business as usual. Camp Mystic is pressing ahead with reopening, even if it means inviting girls to swim in the same river that may potentially still hold my daughter’s body."
Blake Bonner, father of 9-year-old Lila Bonner, another victim, echoed these sentiments, telling The New York Times that the families "were not consulted and did not approve this memorial." He added, "They’ve communicated almost nothing to us for months—and then this." The lack of consultation and communication has sown deep divisions within what was once a tight-knit camp community, with some questioning whether Camp Mystic should ever reopen at all.
The July 4 disaster was not only a tragedy for Camp Mystic but also for the broader Texas Hill Country. Authorities reported that at least 136 people died across the region as the Guadalupe River surged, overwhelming communities and infrastructure. The Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) had previously designated parts of Camp Mystic as a 100-year flood zone back in 2011, but the Eastlands successfully challenged that designation, allowing renovations to proceed without flood insurance requirements. In the aftermath, questions swirled about the camp’s emergency preparedness and the adequacy of its warning systems. According to The Telegraph, Richard “Dick” Eastland, the camp’s 70-year-old executive director, died while attempting to rescue campers. He was later accused by some reports of not evacuating campers until an hour after the initial flood alert.
In response to these failures and the outcry from grieving families, Texas lawmakers moved swiftly to enact sweeping new safety regulations. The Heaven's 27 Camp Safety Act—named in memory of the 27 children and staff who died—was signed into law by Governor Greg Abbott on September 5, 2025. The legislation requires youth camps to adopt and annually update emergency response plans, train staff and campers in emergency procedures, and prohibits cabins from being located within FEMA-designated floodplains. It also increases state oversight and provides grants for installing early-warning sirens in flash flood-prone areas. The Eastland family has pledged to comply fully with the new law, stating in their communications, "Camp safety is now law in the great state of Texas." The Eastlands specifically noted that provisions for detection and warning systems "would have saved lives on July 4."
Despite these assurances, skepticism remains high among many families and alumni. Some, like the group calling themselves “Heaven’s 27,” argue that all resources should remain focused on finding missing children and supporting those still grieving, rather than rebuilding so soon. Others, particularly among the camp’s longstanding supporters, hope that the new safety protocols, memorial, and the decision to keep the affected riverside area closed will allow Camp Mystic to heal and eventually thrive once more. The camp, after all, has been a cherished institution for nearly a century, drawing generations of girls from Houston, Austin, Dallas, and beyond.
The Eastland family, for their part, has acknowledged their own shortcomings in the wake of the tragedy. In a message to bereaved families, they admitted, "We have not been perfect at communicating. The distance that has grown between some of us saddens us all." Nevertheless, the camp is moving forward, with plans to announce 2026 session dates in early October and a promise that campers will not return to cabins that were flooded during the disaster.
As the debate continues, one thing is clear: the scars left by the July 4 flood run deep, and the path to healing—for families, for Camp Mystic, and for the wider community—will be long and fraught. Whether the camp’s reopening will mark a new chapter of resilience or reopen old wounds remains to be seen. For now, the green gates of Camp Mystic stand as both a symbol of cherished memories and a stark reminder of a tragedy that changed countless lives forever.
