Floods in Valencia: a father’s harrowing journey to save his son amid chaos and destruction
Hearing my son’s voice, I knew I had to reach him quickly. I began jumping from car to car, shedding my heavy fleece jacket and leaving the mace behind. When I ran out of cars, I plunged into the water, battling through the current as debris slammed into me.
- 1 week ago
November 26, 2024
VALENCIA, Spain — In the darkness of a power outage, as water flooded everything around me, I climbed onto the roof of a floating car to grasp a moment of safety. My son’s desperate screams from our house balcony urged me to leap from vehicle to vehicle to return to him. In the chaos, I could not fully comprehend the magnitude of the disaster unfolding. Over 200 lives had already been lost, and our entire community was devastated. The grief and shock lingered, unrelenting, for weeks afterward.
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An unexpected disaster, rain seemed far from us
By late October, I had been working nearly a month straight, clocking 12-hour days with no breaks. The exhaustion felt overwhelming, but I had no choice but to push on. One day, I endured a grueling 17-hour shift at the port of Valencia under relentless, heavy rain. Completely drained, I finally went home at dawn and collapsed into bed. In the afternoon, a call from my manager woke me. He said the terminal closed due to storms, and there would be no work that night. Relieved, I invited my partner and son out for pizza in Benetúser.
When we arrived, we found the pizzeria closed. Instead, we went to a pastry shop near the station, where I had a coffee and we shared a small meal. I felt glad to enjoy this moment with my son and partner. An hour later, we returned home. My partner showed me images of the collapsed bridge in Paiporta, a nearby town. The sight looked shocking, but I never imagined something similar happening in Benetúser, where it was not even raining. Suddenly, the power went out, came back briefly, and then shut off again for an extended time.
My partner stepped out onto the balcony to check the commotion coming from the street but could not see anything. I lay on the bed, ready to sleep, when the noise drew my attention. Curious, I looked out and saw the pavement covered with water. It appeared odd because it had not rained. Concerned, I went downstairs, and as I reached the street, I noticed the water level rose slightly, though it had not yet reached the sidewalk. My thoughts immediately turned to my mother, who struggles with mobility. “I have to get to her,” I told my partner, and hurried downstairs.
Water rose rapidly and stranded my car: the flood came in quickly
On my way to the car, I had no idea what was unfolding. Exhausted from working long hours, I did not keep up with the news and did not realize what I faced. People scrambled to move their vehicles as the water rose rapidly, covering the sidewalk. Barefoot, holding my shoes, I hurried to my car. By the time I arrived, the water reached my knees. As I opened the door, water rushed inside. I quickly shut the door and managed to drive 20 meters before water overwhelmed the hood, stalling the car.
Surprised, but not yet scared, I climbed out through the sunroof, stranded near abandoned factories and crumbling buildings by the station. I noticed dry train tracks behind a five-foot wall and grabbed a sledgehammer from my trunk, desperately trying to create a hole for the water to escape. My hands hurt from the effort. Around me, chaos unfolded, as people frantically tried to save their vehicles. Suddenly, I saw my car floating. Desperate, I pushed it toward a wall, maneuvering it like a boat.
The water reached my waist as I secured the car and turned toward the wall by the tracks. Just then, the entire wall gave way, releasing a torrent. Drawing on my boxing strength, I gripped a cart, locking my feet to the ground to avoid being swept away. With water now chest-high, I clung to lampposts and bollards, realizing this was more than a typical flood. I climbed onto a car roof, surrounded by darkness illuminated only by flashlights, as neighbors called out in all directions from their balconies.
Hearing my son’s voice, I knew I had to reach him quickly. I began jumping from car to car
I needed shelter, so I stood up on the car, calculating a jump to a nearby balcony. I asked the man there for permission to climb up, but he refused. His lack of solidarity made me angry, but I realized he probably did not understand the severity of the situation. Sitting on the car, I soon heard my son’s terrified cries. To calm my son, I tried to turn the chaos into something familiar, shouting, “This is like GTA, take it easy!” I used a reference to a scene he knew from the game, where a city is flooded.
Hearing my son’s voice, I knew I had to reach him quickly. I began jumping from car to car, shedding my heavy fleece jacket and leaving the mace behind. When I ran out of cars, I plunged into the water, battling through the current as debris slammed into me. I pushed forward, covering about 20 meters, feeling the force of the objects the water carried. Finally, I reached the front door of my building, where a neighbor, seeing my struggle, rushed down to let me in.
We spent three long hours on the balcony, shining flashlights into the dark, restless floodwaters. The eerie scene unfolded around us: people attempting to cross the street, and neighbors shouting warnings from their balconies. My son eventually drifted to sleep, but a heavy sadness filled the air, settling over everyone. I lay down beside him, holding him close, though sleep came in restless, broken fragments.
A woman cried inconsolably nearby—the first sign that lives had been lost
At 3:00 a.m., the water remained high, but by 6:00 a.m., only a trickle remained. Stepping outside in sandals, I faced a surreal, apocalyptic scene. Cars piled atop one another, forming twisted walls of wreckage, some crushing others. Debris littered the streets. Wheelchairs and walkers belonging to elderly people scattered on the tracks. A woman cried inconsolably nearby—the first sign suggesting people died. The sight felt devastating, like a scene from a horror film. Amid the chaos, neighbors lined up at a gushing pipe to collect water, as electricity and running water had been cut off.
Life took on a surreal quality. I joined others in clearing water and mud from shops and homes. Neighbors worked together, using jacks to move cars blocking paths. At the supermarket, we organized calmly. The clerks let people in, understanding that everything would spoil anyway. Everyone helped one another in the muddy aisles, even with sludge up to our calves. If an elderly person struggled to reach something, someone always offered a hand. Despite the devastation, a sense of solidarity emerged, with everyone doing their best to support each other.
One night, I went with a friend to Masanasa, a nearby village where his mother lived. The journey along the tracks felt wild. We saw cars buried and the ground blown apart and unstable, making it dangerous to cross. Without access to the news, we pieced together the full scope of what happened ourselves. On our way back to Benetúser that night, we spotted a group of 10 policemen with flashlights. Looting had begun, and the police patrolled to prevent it. Although not guilty of anything, fear gripped us, so we decided to hide.
After a couple of weeks, the situation remains largely unchanged
To protect themselves from looters, people sometimes spread false alarms, claiming the water was coming. One morning, as I walked down the street, chaos erupted when everyone started running in panic. I instinctively grabbed a child to get him to safety, but his mother, thinking I was trying to take him away, demanded I let go. The fear and confusion felt overwhelming. I only wanted to help the terrified child. Later, I learned it had been a false alarm, just one more moment of madness in an already surreal situation.
My son, though young, sensed the strangeness around us. We saw people caked in mud, some using plastic bags as makeshift shoes. To comfort him, I tried telling stories, turning everything into a game to keep his spirits up. One day, in an effort to make him smile, I pretended it was my birthday. Thankfully, he believed me and found joy splashing and playing in the mud, his laughter bringing a bit of lightness to the grim days.
After a couple of weeks, the situation remains largely unchanged. Dirt and debris remain everywhere, although some improvements have been made with the removal of many cars. Recovery is a long-term task that will take months. Most businesses disappeared leading to food scarcity. The flood has devastated countless towns, impacting vast areas across Valencia. Entire neighborhoods, cars, businesses, homes, and even lives have been lost. The hardest part is the knowledge that children have died. It is difficult to watch the news, as it fills me with an overwhelming sense of hopelessness.
