As he crossed a vast, muddy floodplain on foot, Brooks Holzhausen moved slowly, wincing with each step. Were he anywhere else, the San Antonio father would’ve looked like a person of above-average size. But here, in a gigantic debris field that stretched for miles in front of and behind him, the burly man appeared at times to be almost miniature, like a bug passing through a construction zone. It wasn’t just the slippery boulders, or the nearly impenetrable, hedgerow-like barriers formed by stacks of downed logs, sediment, and camp equipment, that made Holzhausen’s steps so precarious. Nor was it the metal canoes wrapped around towering cypress trees like tin cans 35 feet above the ground. Though he was soaking wet and carrying a heavy pack full…
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