It seemed like a good idea at the time:  Mo and I would head up to Reno for the New Years. Where better than to start the year off in a city which never sleeps, and even better, never stops serving alcohol? So, reservations made, we watched foul weather come across the Pacific, threatening our plans.

Miraculously, the weather was fairer than could have been expected. Though mid-winter, the precipitation falling in the mountains was not coming down as snow, but was coming down as rain. The bazillion-hour trip I had been envisioning as we sailed across the summit chains-free.

We stopped at our hotel, the Sands, and checked in. With a number of hours to kill before the celebrating started we had some dinner and did a little gambling to pass the time. While the crowds were fairly brisk, the number of people was less than would have been in town for the usual weekend evening. Threats of a great storm had kept most away, I reckon.

The weather that evening was very pleasant. The drizzle had not really reached Reno much, and outside it was balmy--in the mid 60's. This was very unusual for the town at this time of year, situated as it is in the high desert just past the Sierras. We walked the streets, noticing the increasing amount of police activity starting at sundown. At about 11:30 pm, the crowds which had been milling the streets suddenly flowed into the center of the road. Roadblocks were quickly erected and the police suddenly quit the scene. What followed was the standard yahooery. We all counted down the New Years, and at the stroke of midnight, champagne was uncorked and there were choruses of Auld Lang Syne.

Downtown Reno. The River runs from top to bottom. There's a road and a bridge somewhere running right to left.

The casinos, being the money-grubbers that they were, only allowed for two-day reservations. We took the second day off on New Years day, figuring we could watch the parades and then do a little gambling. While having breakfast, we overheard tell that the river that ran through the center of town was swelling with the rainfall and warm temperatures washing away much of the snowpack. Being the lemmings that we were, we headed down to watch the river.

It was sprinkling lightly when we were down at the river, but it was warm and pleasant between the bursts. Sure enough, the river was creeping higher and higher. A small crowd was gathering to watch the water rise. When its New Year's day and you are hung over, there's not much else anyone can do that beats watching the water rise, so we sat there for a while. Within a fairly short period of time, the water began to threaten a low bridge and began to flood a nearby park. Now it was getting interesting. Still, it didn't seem like it would be anything all that spectacular.

Later in the afternoon, the bridge was awash, and a drama was being played out across the river from us where a bunch of construction equipment--large cranes and derricks--had been left near the river's edge. By this time the park was fully awash, and large amounts of debris were running in the swirling water. Standing on the taller bridges, one could look down and see the logjams forming, and feel the reverberations of whole trees smacking into the abutments. In short order, identifiable pieces of peoples homes became floatsam. It started with the contents of people's yards: chairs, children's toys, buckets. But soon it became woodpiles, and stairs, and railings.

Soon thereafter, the bridges through the city were closed. We entertained some small thoughts of leaving, but the hotel was fairly expensive, and we were a far ways from the river if it flooded a bit. We stayed out the night, assured by the local news that the flood crest was supposed to be at midnight. We headed over to the Cal Neva to take advantage of their "Flood Special" -- A 30+ oz. margarita for free, if you had a room key. It was fun to watch the water rise from the Cal-Neva, until the power went out. The power was back up in short order, but was back down again in equal time. The end of the city was darkened as something shorted out in the area. Our decision to stay the night seemed somewhat questionable, but by that time, we'd learned that a mudslide had blocked I-80, making leaving a four-hour experience once the detours were planned. Adding to this the fact that there were sketchy reports of road closures all through the Sierras due to flooding, and it seemed best to stay put.

The next morning we awoke to find that our hotel was without power. I took the lawsuit-waiting-to-happen shower in the dark. Looking out from our hotel room, I could see that the river was considerably higher than it had been the night before. The first block on our side of the river had become flooded and the water was encroaching the second block as well. Mo and I packed and headed down. The hotel had enough power to run one elevator (and a number of slot machines). True to form, a goodly number of the open slots had people gambling at them. The reports were that I-80 was still jammed up, so we began hunting for another room for the evening as a precaution. The Sands insisted on charging us the same inflated New Year's rate for our room: this despite the fact that there was no power in the room, no heat, and one working elevator which jammed while we were in discussion about reservations.

The Reno Airport becomes Port Reno

We called around and found that reservations were spotty. Many of the hotels between the river and the railroad tracks were either without power or were on generator power, as the city had shut down the juice to those sections to protect the equipment and to prevent fires. Fitzgeralds, for one, had evacuated their rooms, but left all their nighttime lights running: as if to show to the world that they were still open for business, by God. Most of the available hotel space was either unreachable, closed, or filled with evacuees. We managed to get a hotel room at the Sundowner, which had power and was reasonable about their rates.

We holed up there, tired of slogging through barriers and sandbags to get from place to place, and all gambled out. We watched as the waters continued to rise. Helicopters and Humvees darted through the city. We went back to the Cal-Neva, which despite the fact that they were running on minimal generator power, had enough juice to serve us free margaritas. We watched the flood unfold on CNN -- nothing like seeing an international view of the chaos unfolding before you. The flooding was all over the west coast. The local TV stations were offering ways out of town--routes that would have taken eight or so hours, were it not for the fact that sections of road were flooded between here and there according to CNN. We were floodlocked with no way out: no roads, no trains, no planes. There were projected flood crests that kept being pushed back, and threats of more rain to come. It looked like we'd never get out of town.

The next morning, things broke a bit. The water had receded a goodly deal, and a massive cleanup effort was underway. There were almost no signs that a torrent of water, debris, and muck had cascaded down two city blocks of towns in some sections. Other sections still looked quite a bit like warzones. I-80 was still closed, but there was hope that it would be opened soon. As soon as word got out that it was open, we high-tailed it for the border. Traffic was horrendous, as the road was still down to one lane in our direction. It took over two hours for us to escape the state of Nevada, from Reno to the state line. The trip back was uneventful, except when it started raining near the top. I pushed the Escort to its limits to get out of there before something else trapped us.

After having been stuck in Reno, I've decided: never again in the wintertime.