As hurricane season builds and memories of Texas’ deadly flash floods linger, Florida faces its own reckoning—between rising risks and misunderstood realities.
A Tragedy in Texas, and a Question in Florida
The devastation in Texas was swift and brutal. Over the July 4th weekend, torrential rains sent the Guadalupe River surging past its banks, triggering flash floods that killed at least 120 people. The scale of loss—lives, homes, and infrastructure—was staggering.
As Florida eyes the start of its hurricane season, the question naturally arises: Could it happen here? Could the St. Johns River, Florida’s longest and most iconic waterway, unleash similar havoc on unsuspecting communities?
It’s a fair question. But as meteorologists and hydrologists point out, it’s not a simple one.
Why Florida Isn’t Texas—At Least Hydrologically
At first glance, Florida’s tropical humidity and frequent storms might seem like perfect ingredients for flash floods. But according to Jessie Schaper, a hydrology program manager with the National Weather Service in Melbourne, the state’s landscape tells a very different story.
“Absolutely not,” Schaper said when asked whether a Texas-style flood was possible on the St. Johns River. “We do not have the terrain here that they do in Texas Hill Country... It is a very slow-moving river.”
And she’s right. Unlike the steep hills and narrow canyons of central Texas, which funnel rainfall into deadly torrents, the St. Johns River is famously flat. Over its 310-mile journey, the river drops less than 30 feet—roughly one inch per mile. That makes it one of the “laziest” rivers on Earth.
This lack of slope is more than trivia. It determines how water moves. In Texas, water runs fast—and dangerously. In Florida, it lingers, often causing flooding of a different kind—gradual, wide, and prolonged.
But Let’s Not Get Comfortable: Risks Still Remain
While the St. Johns might not burst into deadly flash floods, Florida is far from safe. What it lacks in topographic drama, it makes up for in saturation risk. The state’s low-lying wetlands, combined with heavy rainfall and sea-level rise, mean persistent flooding is a growing threat—especially as climate patterns shift.
And while flash floods may be unlikely along the St. Johns, they're not impossible elsewhere in the state. Urban areas with poor drainage, such as parts of Miami, Orlando, or Tampa, are especially vulnerable to intense storm events. And when storms linger—like Hurricane Ian in 2022—the damage can be catastrophic.
A New Season, A Shrinking Forecasting System
Further complicating the equation are recent federal cutbacks. In June, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) announced it would end data services from the Defense Meteorological Satellite Program (DMSP), a crucial tool in long-range forecasting.
Many scientists view the move—part of broader budget cuts under the Trump administration—as a blow to climate monitoring just as tropical activity appears to be intensifying.
The National Hurricane Center is now monitoring four active tropical waves, any of which could evolve into named storms. For now, forecasters say there’s no imminent danger. But with storm names like Dexter queued up, the season is just beginning.
So, What Should Floridians Do?
If you live near the St. Johns River, don’t panic—but don’t tune out either. The absence of steep terrain may shield you from flash floods, but it won’t prevent slow-onset disasters.
Here’s how to stay prepared:
-
Know your flood zone. Use FEMA’s flood maps to understand your specific risk.
-
Have a plan. Especially if you live in mobile homes or flood-prone areas.
-
Stay informed. Monitor the National Hurricane Center and local weather alerts.
-
Respect water. Even lazy rivers can rise when nature pushes hard enough.
The Bigger Picture: Learning from Texas
Texas’s tragedy wasn’t just about water—it was about how unprepared communities can be when nature overwhelms infrastructure and expectations. That lesson is Florida’s to learn before disaster strikes.
St. Johns River may not erupt overnight. But neither did climate change. The risks are real—even if they don’t look like they did in Kerrville.
And in a year already marked by environmental unpredictability, that awareness may be Florida’s best defense.