The hot Hurricane Hilary destroyed a summer camp in the San Bernardino Mountains - Los Angeles Times.

Approaching Angelus Oaks - the Camp River Glen parking lot was engulfed by the Santa Ana River. Parts of a tractor peeked out on the surface. Giant water reservoirs were crushed like paper napkins. Everywhere there were leaves, branches, trunks, and toppled electrical wires.

"A month ago, teenagers from working families from all over Southern California went hiking, swimming, and fishing here - many for the first time in their lives. They spent the night in cabins without doors and windows, to better let the night mountain breeze and the sound of the river lull them to sleep."."

On the night of August20, a week after the children had left and when volunteers were just closing the camp for the season, the river broke through the11-acre UCLA UniCamp non-profit organization camp. Cyclone Hilary led to floods, caused the slow river that usually flows here in the summer to expand its banks from15 to100 feet.

Now UniCamp's Executive Director, Jason Liu, must decide whether the camp, which has been hosting children from low-income families since1930, will return to this location next summer or not.

The storm damage is so extensive in this part of the San Bernardino Mountains that Caltrans has closed Highway38 leading to Camp River Glen and onward to Big Bear for15.5 kilometers in both directions, at least until December for emergency repairs.

Southern California Edison representative Gabriela Ornelas told me that the company does not have a power restoration schedule for this area "because it's difficult for us to safely get there."

"Vehicles cannot enter Camp River Glen until the destroyed bridge leading to it is repaired, which should wait until one road leading to it is repaired."."

UniCamp owns all the buildings and infrastructure on its territory, but the land is leased from the U.S. Forest Service, which must approve all improvements. Other agencies Liu must contact include the Department of Fish and Wildlife (responsible for everything related to the Santa Ana River) and San Bernardino County for repairing county roads. "There will be a lot of coordination [between agencies], and not just with this camp," said Gas Bayna, chief external relations officer for the National Forest Service in San Bernardino, who said the Forest Service is still far from completing the assessment of the aftermath of Storm Hilary.

Liu started working as a volunteer at the camp in 2001 and has been the executive director for five years now. "The children who come here open up, and so do the volunteers, and it's inspiring to see how we all grow together," he said.

This year, the camp was the first after the pandemic, when "we weren't trying to recover, but rather to surpass ourselves," Liu added. Therefore, he initially hoped that Hilary, the first tropical storm to pass through Southern California in 84 years, wouldn't harm Camp River Glen, although its staff had to leave under evacuation orders. But the morning after the storm, the owner of a nearby cabin sent several photos. "First of all, you can't see anything because you need to take it all in," Liu said. "Then you notice that some buildings are just gone." He paused. "It's absolutely heartbreaking," he said.

I asked Liu if I could see Camp River Glen for myself. One morning, I met him in the parking lot of Home Depot in Redlands. Two UniCamp staff members, Byron Lutz and Megan Lee, went along with an insurance adjuster in one car. Liu and I rode with Ray Cano, a property adjuster from Malibu and a long-time member of the UniCamp board, who wanted to see the destruction for himself instead of relying on photos and reports. "Many kids haven't even left their own neighborhoods," Cano said as we started our trip. His daughter had volunteered at the camp this summer, and he came for the last weekend. "Bringing them out here is healing."

The gardens of Redlands gave way to the empty lots of Mentone, which in turn gave way to oaks and pines as we ascended Highway 38 to Camp River Glen. I saw waterfalls and wildflowers, as well as picturesque cottages that looked like photographs from a Ranger Rick magazine. I also saw hills that had been burned by fire. On other slopes, tall trees were an unpleasant orange - a clear sign of a beetle infestation. Cement trucks rumbled past us, and metal pipes were stacked on the roadside, waiting to be installed. In some areas, a pilot car escorted columns of vehicles past construction sites.

Kano asked Liu how the camp was doing as we slowly approached it. The dining hall? Intact. The toilets? Some are flooded, but they can be restored. The water source? Ruined. The new water pump? Destroyed. Maybe new benches can be built from the fallen trees? "Uh, that's been pushed to the back burner for now," Liu replied dryly. Then he became serious. "The problem we've always had is fire.

The trip to Camp River Glen usually takes about 45 minutes from Home Depot in Redlands. It took us two hours. After passing through the California Highway Patrol checkpoint, Kano stopped at the spot where the Camp River Glen parking lot used to be. Now it was the Santa Ana River. "Oh, damn - hey!" he groaned as we got out of his Volvo SUV. "No way - ugh!" He and Liu started taking pictures. Authorities had attached red tags to two nearby private cabins. "I can't even imagine what it was like on Hillary's day," Liu said.

The only passable road near Camp River Glen now is a single-lane dirt road. Kano slowly maneuvered his SUV through puddles, potholes, and ruts for about three miles before we finally crested a small hill that offered a view of the bridge leading to the camp, now reduced to a concrete island. Huge trees lay on it like ear sticks on a bathroom counter. We cautiously crossed the river on our knees, far from our original path. It was about 20 feet wide, fast, and cold. On the other side were Lutz and Lee, who had passed us earlier. "We've been to this camp so many times that we know it like the back of our hand, so seeing all this is really shocking," said 30-year-old Lutz, the director of UniCamp, as we walked toward the camp. "Three weeks ago, I saw kids playing volleyball. Now..." He fell silent. "Just seeing all the work that needs to be done beyond our team, we don't even know where to start," said Lee, the 26-year-old director of external relations at UniCamp, pointing to a red tag that no longer had a supporting post. "Hey, Blitzen," Lee said to Lutz, calling him by his camp name (Lee herself is called Lilo, Liu is Mr. Wu. Kano? Turkey, because he was born in Turkey). "That was the first cabin I ever stayed in here."

Problems were everywhere, mixed with the beauty of nature. Bear tracks led into the pump station for the pool, flooded with a foot of mud. "We're going to have to spend a day with a saw," Kano said, trying to lighten the mood. Everyone will be coming here at least once a week for the foreseeable future and doing everything they can until the contractors can come, someday.

At the moment, Kano is gathering his colleagues for a meeting to raise funds, while Liu is trying to figure out where UniCamp will take place next summer. "It's the only place I've ever camped," he said. "But UniCamp has also existed at other campgrounds. It would be difficult to move, but we could manage it."

We were now looking at the garage, the walls of which had collapsed, but it still stood. A flag of the University of California, Los Angeles, hung from the broken window. "I feel like every time I come here, it droops more," Liu said. "It won't withstand the snow," Kano replied. "Do the Santa Ana winds blow here?" Lutz asked. Lee nodded. "They'll knock it down," Kano said. We were silent. In the distance, the Santa Ana River roared.