Heavy Runoff in Sierra Threatens Further Flooding

The first sunshine in a week lifted spirits Friday across washed-out Northern California, but runoff from the sodden Sierra continued to tumble into maxed-out reservoirs and rivers, threatening new flooding in the Central Valley.

At least 60,000 people who fled levee breaks on the Feather River remained shut out of their homes. Many slept in their cars or took refuge in evacuation centers in Lincoln and other towns north of Sacramento.

While workers scrambled to repair levees that ruptured near Olivehurst on Thursday night, rescue helicopters with heat-seeking infrared beams scouted for marooned residents of the submerged farming town. Six people were found clinging to rooftops and swamped cars and were hoisted to safety.

In a bit of good news, the clear, cooler weather of Friday should continue over much of the state through the weekend with only scattered showers expected.

Nonetheless, there were plenty of problems around the state after eight days of Pacific storms that dumped more than 32 inches of rain in some mountain areas:

* Officials predicted “heavy flooding” in low-lying areas along the San Joaquin River near Fresno early today, as runoff water gushed out of the brimming Friant Dam. A bridge on California 41 outside Fresno was in danger of failing, and a trailer park was flooded, damaging 70 mobile homes, according to state emergency officials.

* The Tuolumne River near Modesto was expected to top 68 feet early this morning--13 feet above flood level. Volunteers pitched in with flatbed trucks and elbow grease to help 4,000 residents in low-lying areas move their furniture to high ground. “People are scurrying,” city spokeswoman Renee Ledbetter said. “It’s a real good community effort.” Flooding did force closure of the sewage plant, but Modesto’s water supply remained safe.

* Rangers led a convoy of 1,000 tourists on a wet but passable road out of Yosemite Valley. Officials called it the worst flooding on record in Yosemite National Park. Water reached shoulder height in some cabins. “This is definitely a flood of historic proportions,” Ranger Kimberly Cunningham-Summerfield said.

* In Wilton, south of Sacramento on the Cosumnes River, residents who fled flooding Thursday slogged home to find most of the water gone--but plenty of damage left behind. Judy Boone found 28 dead sheep pressed against her fence. Her neighbor Eric Andrews found mud all over his parents’ home. “It’s almost an invasion of privacy,” Andrews said as he cleaned. “The hardest loss was the family pictures, because you can’t replace those.”

* The nearby Mokelumne River ripped half a dozen boats from their moorings and slammed them into a bridge downriver. Officials had to bring in a crane to move the boats and--with the river still rising--said they were not sure where to find dry land to put them. Nearly 2,000 residents were evacuated along the Mokelumne.

* Gov. Pete Wilson declared emergencies in 11 more counties, for a total of 37. He also asked President Clinton to declare the state eligible for federal disaster relief.

* Many roads around Northern California remained closed because of mudslides or washouts. U.S. 50 near Pollock Pines and U.S. 395 north of Lee Vining were expected to remain closed for a while because of damage. Interstate 80 over Donner Summit into Nevada reopened Friday.

The storms were being blamed for three recent deaths in addition to a New Year’s Eve accident that killed a Trinity County man.

One victim died in Shasta County after his car went off a bridge washed out by the storm; another was killed when his truck overturned on a bridge over the flooded Cosumnes River, and an Oakhurst woman drowned in the Chowchilla River on Thursday night when the car she was riding in washed over the side of a culvert.

Evacuees from Olivehurst did not face such perilous conditions, with most driving out of the city, hitching rides on buses or riding their horses to high ground just ahead of rising flood waters Thursday night.

“When the police came by and said we had to get out, we just took the kids and the clothes on our backs,” said Lois Schnell, 27, who was eating lunch with her family in a Red Cross shelter in Woodland. “We had to leave all our animals behind. We just closed them in the house, put food and water in with them and prayed to God they would be all right.”

Unable to return home, she fretted about her potbellied pig, four dogs, two cats and two birds. “We live way outside of town, and we thought we were safe,” said Schnell. “We weren’t prepared for this.”

Neither were Sidney and Viola Dunn, who have lived through many storms in their day--but none like the whoppers that hit between Christmas and the day after New Year’s. Sitting in a shelter in Lincoln, Sidney, 80, and Viola, 83, vowed to repair the wood-frame home they built themselves when they settled in Olivehurst more than four decades ago.

“I’m going to patch it up somehow,” Sidney Dunn said. Despite his confidence, though, he was unsure when he would be able to return to see just what needs patching. “What I heard was maybe eight days,” he said.

Viola Dunn, who uses a wheelchair because of arthritis, shook her head and began to weep. “We can’t stay away that long,” she said.

Others were more sanguine. Retired postal worker Frank Corzine and his wife, Mary, killed time in the Lincoln evacuation center by taking their dog for a walk. Their cat, Ginger, was in a carrier perched on top of the Corzines’ car, still refusing to eat or drink. But the Corzines did not seem similarly put out.

“We’ve been around the block a few times,” said Frank Corzine. “We don’t hit the panic button easy.”

Neither, apparently, does 36-year-old Sandi Espinosa. She said she somehow missed the call to evacuate Olivehurst after dark Thursday, so she stuck it out through the night with her horse, three dogs, two cats, six snakes and two rabbits. She awoke Friday morning to find water lapping onto her lawn. Finally moved to action, she tried to get her horse out of the fast-flooding pasture--but the water spooked him, and he took off, dragging her into deeper and deeper water.

She finally let go when the water was up to her neck. The horse ran off and she returned home. But the water level rose so quickly that she soon had to clamber onto her roof to stay dry.

Just then, help appeared--in the form of a man on a Jet Ski, zooming through what used to be her lawn. “Want a ride?” he asked.

Her answer: “Absolutely!”

As the evacuees settled into a second uneasy night away from home, workers deliberately punched a second hole in the Feather River levee, about two miles downstream from the original breach. The action was taken to help drain flood water that had backed up about 15 miles north of the Sacramento Metropolitan Airport.

“Our hope is that this will take the pressure off the system,” said Eric Butler, flood control director of the state Department of Water Resources, who compared the move to “opening a relief valve.”

There was no such relief available in the Central Valley.

Pushed to the maximum, Friant Dam spilled so much water that at peak points, three times the normal flow pulsed through the San Joaquin River. “I’ve never seen water go over the spillway like this,” said Frank Verduzco, who has lived near the north fork of the river all his life.

All that water raced straight downstream--aiming right for the farming town of Mendota about 30 miles northwest of Fresno.

On its way, the river jumped its banks and quadrupled in width, swamping half the town of Friant. By midafternoon, only the roof lines of the worst-hit houses were visible, and the state Fish and Game hatchery was submerged.

Dreading the coming deluge--but knowing there was nothing he could do to stop it--Mendota City Manager Zak Gonzalez began dialing for help, calling up his state assemblyman, his congressman, anyone who might be able to produce some sandbags before the river hit town after dark. “Even if they need to be air-dropped,” he pleaded, “we need them right now.”

The town of Firebaugh--which has 3,000 residents--was deserted by nightfall, with most of the downtown businesses padlocked and sandbagged. In nearby Mendota, everyone talked in worried tones about “the surge”--the big gush of water from the Friant Dam that was expected to reach town by morning.

Trying to prevent disaster, Mendota City Manager Gonzalez sent crews of prison inmates and city workers to build a makeshift levee of sandbags to protect the sewage treatment plant at the river’s edge. Yet he could round up only about 2,000 sandbags--just a quarter of the number needed.

With time running short, Gonzalez sounded increasingly frantic. The river was racing toward his city. He could do nothing to stop it. In gloomy understatement, he said: “It doesn’t feel too good.”

Times staff writers Frank Clifford in Los Angeles and Dave Lesher in Sacramento contributed to this story.