As the title suggests, I am thinking about cold weather and blizzard survival. Does anyone have a good story surviving one? I will go first with one of my many stories about surviving a blizzard.
During the New Years 1998/99, I traveled to my then-girlfriend's (now wife) parents to see them over the holiday. They lived in Freeport, Illinois, about 10 miles from Wisconsin and about 40 minutes west of Rockford. My visit had to be cut short as there was a severe blizzard blowing in from Iowa and by the time I got on the road I was driving right into the middle of a full-fledged winter storm. Snow was falling heavily and the winds blew fiercely from the West-Northwest. The driving conditions were awful. Thick snow (6+ inches) covered the road and I tended to drive in tire tracks probably left by a semi-truck or other heavy vehicle. Snowplows were intermittent and there were numerous vehicles that had lost it and were now on the side of the road, pointed in strange directions. Normally this would have been a 3 hour drive. This day it was more like six. I made the journey in my trusty little 1990 Ford Escort--the best snow vehicle I ever had! I slipped, I slid. I fishtailed. At three points, I was certain that I was going off the road--so certain that I stopped trying to straighten myself out and instead I was trying to pick the place where I would go off. But somehow (Divine intervention? I have no better explanation), just as I was about to completely lose control, the car seemingly got a mind of its own and straightened out on its own! I made it home safely.
But I was not out of the woods yet. Another storm was brewing. It was Saturday and I had school Monday. I would have liked to have traveled on Sunday, but the storm would make travel from Bloomington to Carbondale impossible. As it was, it was merely terrible. I started on Saturday--earlier than I wanted--dressed for a blizzard and assuming that I would have to get out and push the car. I was dressed in long-johns (two pair), polar fleece pants, and snowmobile bibs. I had shovels and snow gear in easy-to-access places. I started out driving east on I-74 going towards Champaign. This was easy driving as the wind was from directly behind. There was no snow falling, but it was easy to see that there was a fierce ground-blizzard in the works with high winds creating huge drifts on N-S roads. At Champaign I turned south on I-57 and things went to pieces. That wind was now blowing across the roads, cause huge drifts that worked their way right across and over both lanes of the interstate. I don't think I drove faster than 35 MPG from Champaign to Mt. Vernon, normally a two-hour section which this time took approximately six hours!. I drove through deep, thick snow. I drove through tracks left by heavy vehicles. I saw what must have been hundreds of cars & trucks that had slipped off the road.
At Mt. Vernon I started following a snowplow and shortly south, the snow let up, the temperatures warmed and the roads cleared. I pulled into my house--exhausted from the drive and saw that I had a message on my answering machine (ahh, the days). I pressed play and the message was: school canceled for Monday.
I got stuck trying to bring a friend to the airport in Syracuse one year, driving my 81 Datsun/Nissan (which was already an antique). Snow at least a meter high, and off the road i went and there was no getting out. Then this wave of plow trucks shows up, clears the road, the tow truck close behind, and I spent probably no more than 10 minutes in the snowbank. it was ridiculous! (they towed me straight to the cash machine)
that was the fun story. the memory that made me shudder when I read this topic was when I was in my last year of college and they called a snow day and sent me home from my internship. This in upstate New York at a school that had not called a snow day in recent history- there was already about a foot on the ground and a blizzard warning. All the people who grew up around there all immediately went home, do not stop and get milk/bread/eggs, they were serious. That was the first sign I missed.
It was still relatively early in the day, my last year was hellish and I never had any free time to do anything I liked, and I thought heck, I'm going to go hiking in the snow. I had gear, I had snowshoes and boots that were broken in, and I decided to go hiking up near campus through the arboretum and along the trails I used to run on in the summer. Not remote, not far, no mountains, not unfamiliar. Heck, for one summer I lived right around there. I would go along the same route I ran, maybe 7 miles or so.
It was gorgeous. I had a really wonderful, beautiful hike until-- of course--I got disoriented in the blizzard and lost my way. Worse, everyone (grad students, hikers, bikers, dog walkers, etc) who usually would be all over this well-trafficked area were all hunkered down at home and the buses were shut down, so the roads were empty. The snow was really heavy and I had no idea where the heck I was. At a certain point I came to a river and thought that campus was back in that direction and I'd have to cross, and I remember stopping and thinking, if I get my feet wet I am going to freeze to death, this is the point of no return where I get into big trouble. I was well-covered, not at risk of frostbite, but at this point it was getting close to nightfall and I was tired and I couldn't keep walking in circles forever.
I decided there had to be something I was missing and decided to track back to avoid the river. And not ten steps from where I was, where I had gone several times before, turned out the be the road, and a BUS went by. I don't think I was ever so happy to see a bus! I was not five minutes from the edge of campus, but I swear, I was really thinking I was at the end of the line. I don't think I ever went out hiking/snowshoeing again after that.
(yes, poor preparation, etc etc. i was a college student and poor decisions were part and parcel.... live and learn)
Eric Hanson
,
Steward and Man of Many Mushrooms
staff
OK Tereza, you have me beat for shear, horrifying winter terror. I have had my share of how-am-I-going-to-get-out-of-this-alive stories, but none of them involved winter stories. I have many devil-may-care-cheat-death stories, but I don't think I ever felt that kind of terror associated with anything winter-related.
I assume that the snow was falling fast/hard enough that your own tracks were covered quickly? And also that your typical landmarks were no longer recognizable? I am certainly glad that you made it out!
My first story was maybe the closest to a get-out-alive that I actually have. I definitely was challenged--multiple times, but I was challenged right up to my skill level which is the type of challenge that we like the best--neither too little nor too great a challenge.
I did have a good winter storm story which must have been in the winter of 91-92 (this was probably January '92). During summers, I worked at a DQ. I had worked there enough that the owner would hire me back during my breaks. She even hired me back during winter break when DQ is notoriously slow (although we did have a kitchen).
On that winter, I went back, started on a Monday or Tuesday and noticed that we were out of almost everything in the store. Our delivery was on Wednesday. Wednesday came and there was a dangerous winter storm brewing just to the west. I got a phone call from the day manager (not owner) that she had already been snowed in and could not get there and that we would just be closed that day. I tended to work the night shift and had my own key. The day manager lived about twenty miles to the west and I lived about 5-10 miles to the east. I was about to just accept that I had a day off when I realized that we had a delivery that was vital and that they would be there in less than a half-hour. I went in just to let the delivery in and then leave.
I took the most direct route in, a route I would not be able to take back due to severe drifting (runs N-S). I got in the building when immediately the phone rang. I knew without answering that it was my mother and she wanted me to get out NOW!. The storm had already reached the west side of town. I told her that the truck just pulled in and that I would unload and then leave (5min). I would take a longer route home that was less prone to drifting (NW-SE). I pulled out of the parking lot and made my way to the edge of town when a white wall hit me. I was in complete whiteout conditions. At times it was so bad that I could not see the front third of the hood of my car--and I drove a 1990 Ford Escort--not exactly a huge car!. I literally could have stuck my arm out and lost my hand in the whiteout!
When that level of whiteout hit, about all I could do was to put the car into neutral (it was a stick) and let the car slow down on its own while I did my very best to drive by what I thought was my recollection of where the road was--not a perfect situation. I dared not slam on the breaks--I likely would skid. And I did not want to stop--someone might rear-end me. I would coast-drive until the whiteout let up and then I got back into my lane (I was surprisingly accurate at anticipating where the road should have been!). But I could never get anywhere close to full speed--I would get slammed with another whiteout!
Typically this route home was about 15 minutes. It took me two hours. It was a lot of speed up (a little), coast down, correct, repeat. The whiteouts got worse/longer and I got worse at anticipating where the road was supposed to be. After one particularly long whiteout, the conditions abruptly cleared and I could momentarily see perhaps 1/4 mile ahead--and I was about to drive off the LEFT side of the road! That got my attention! I made my way slowly but surely and got back home no worse for wear, but with a great little story to tell.
I worked a 3 day shift covering a small town emergency department. My shift was over and there was no way I was going to stay another minute no matter what the weather was.
So I set out from the small town on a state highway in a crazy blizzard. As I left the town, I realized I could not see the road- not from the blowing snow. From the roadway that had not been cleared. It was covered with snow that just faded into the nearby farm fields. I managed to slowly ease along using clusters of roadside plants to trace a path.
I got to the next nearest town and happened upon a beer truck making deliveries. Thank you beer truck driver! I managed to follow him to a convenience store about a half mile from my home. I tried to turn onto the street that lead to my home to discover snow drifts up to 4 foot deep. There was no way my car would make it. I went back to the convenience store and told them I would pick my car up when the road was clear.
Then I headed out on foot with my suitcase. Bundled up against the cold. Still determined to make it home. I made it about a quarter of a mile when I saw a snowplow - private company- working on clearing driveways near my house. He offered me a ride and I made it the rest of the way in warmth and comfort. I was so glad to be home! I managed to get my car three days later after the county came through and cleared our streets.
It was quite the adventure but also one of the scariest, least intelligent things I have ever done.
I don't think I have any blizzard stories that rise to the level of "good", but I have one "okay" blizzard story and one blizzard anecdote.
The anecdote is that twice in my adult life, about a dozen years apart, I moved from the western US (Arizona the first time, California the second) to Ohio, and both times it was blizzarding the night I arrived. What are the odds?
The "okay" story is from when I was about 12 years old and would have been in the winter of 1998/1999, or possibly a year earlier; my mom, my brothers, and I had driven to the east coast for a family function and then were on the return trip home.
At some point somewhere in NY or PA it was snowing so hard along I-90 or I-80 my mom decided to pull into a rest stop and wait it out. It kept blizzarding though, on and on into the evening, until she decided we would just spend the night there.
All the restaurants and the gift shop had closed and we were basically the only people there. She found a bench or something to try and catch a few winks on, and since she was exhausted from driving, that's what she did. My brother and I found ourselves unsupervised in a deserted rest stop. And, there was a big indoor play area in the middle, with a ball pit!
I don't know what time we eventually decided to call it quits, but until we did, we spent every moment of those wee hours diving around in that ball pit, even scouring the bottom where we found a lot of loose change and other items that had fallen out of people's pockets over the years. I think I probably scored between 75 cents and $1.25 in that thing, including at least one or two half-dollars. That much money was a small fortune to me at the time.
For years and years after that, well into adulthood, I would have recurring dreams where I'd find coins on the ground, sometimes at the bottom of fountains or other public ball-pit-shaped places, and in my dreams there'd always be lots of huge exotic coins you don't see every day, or that don’t really exist at all. I'd find so many coins I couldn't even hold them all in my hands and my pockets would be full.
I have a few that come to mind. The first few happened when I was working on a large scale ranch in central ND, prairie potholes region.
In one case it was an October blizzard that blew up, after getting the main cow herds managed for the blizzard I headed home early in the tractor to try to lead a group of yearlings in from their pasture to hunker down in the yard through the storm. It was starting to snow and by the time I got home the wind was picking up too. It’s nearly a full section of pasture, and as I went driving around out there looking for the cattle the storm really turned into a blizzard. Never did find the yearlings, after the storm we found they had drifted into a neighboring pasture and all rode out the storm just fine. Of course, I was safe and warm in my nice tractor, but I drove around out there for hours in the blizzard until I realized I couldn’t tell much where I was anymore and decided I better head it back home before I lost my way completely. It was going to be a 3 day blizzard and I would’ve run out of diesel if I had had to ride it out in the tractor. Made it home, but there were definitely more than a few moments where I wasn’t sure if I was heading in the right direction.
That same February/march, it seemed like we had a blizzard consistently starting every Friday and going on until Sunday afternoon. When they forecasted a particularly bad one, I had gotten tired of being snowed in at my place until Monday afternoon when someone from work could get there with the tractor to dig me out. So I borrowed the snowmobile and rode it home about 8 miles. Had never ridden a snowmobile before, tucked my 6 month old border collie pup on my lap and took off. Storm was going prettty good and it was down below zero. I took the shortcut past the lake but really didn’t know where I was. Luckily the wind had swept the snow up into big drifts and bare spots so I could see the gravel of the road now and then and navigate. But the next stretch was just an open field for 2 miles, no fences, no landmarks, and no visibility. I can tell you I was awfully glad when all of a sudden I about fell off the edge of the earth, had found the ditch of the road I needed to turn onto and head north to my house. Lost my hat with a couple miles to go, boy did my ears hurt when I got home.
The worst one I ever experienced I fortunately was at home. This was a few years later than the others. It was a bit April storm that hit during calving season. My husband and I had about 100 head and a good percentage of those had calves on the ground. We had to hook the snowblower on the tractor in the morning and blow a path to the barn, then hurry up and get unhooked and hooked onto the bale processor to feed. Well, we had all the cow calf pairs locked in to the corrals as well as the bred cows. There wasn’t a lot of room to spread the feed out with all those cows in there, and besides, by the time we could get half the feed out the path we had snowblown was about drifted shut again. So we’d hurry it back up to the main yard, go in and have some lunch since it was about noon anyway. And then after lunch we’d switch back over to the snowblower, make a fresh path, and then run back and get the bale processor to feed the other half of the days feed. Took us most of the day to get the basic chores done. For overnight calving checks, we typically take turns getting up in the night and heading down to the barn, but the tractor with the snowblower was the only vehicle that could get through the snow. Barn is about 300 yards or so from the house. I’m talking a mfwd tractor was the only thing that could make it 300 yards without getting stuck. We were scared to go alone in case something happened, there was no way the other person could get there to help them. To try to walk the 300 yards would’ve been incredibly dangerous, we were just praying every time we got in the tractor that we found the barn. At least if we didn’t we had a climate controlled cab until we found our way. Never have I had so much respect for what nature can do, nor what the people who settled this place went through. I’ve got 2 neighbors within 2 miles as the crow flies, and there’s fences everywhere. And I could’ve been lost on the prairie in minutes in that storm. But back when it was first settled, there was just miles of nothing. I can’t imagine living through those blizzards.
I had a trip to make to Columbus Ohio from southern Illinois. I put in a full day at my day job and headed out around 5pm. Weather reports for my area, Indy, Dayton, and Columbus were all good. Sometime after Dayton I began noticing the cars in front of me exiting the interstate. The problem was, I had driven that road many times and knew there were not that many exits. I checked for traffic behind me .. there was none. I took my foot off the gas and coasted to a stop off the side of the road. I stepped out of the car, and I was on my backside. The cars in front of me had been skidding off the road and into a field. Black ice. I made it to Columbus. Fortunately my motel was just off the exit. I took the exit ramp mostly sideways and made it to the motel.
When I was younger I experienced several blizzards, but the biggest one I remember was '78. The sheer amount of PILES of snow was mesmerizing and fantastical! We had so much fun that winter! But we were stuck for days inside (parental fears of us freezing to death or getting lost outside). I remember we had to roll newspapers for 'logs' to keep warm for a few days for extra heat. It was a doozy, but it was a kid's winter paradise!!
Eric Hanson
,
Steward and Man of Many Mushrooms
staff
Ahh, ‘78. Yes, I remember that year well, at least the blizzards. Granted, I was only 5, but I remember the absolute mountains of snow covering the land. The memories I have from the winters of ‘77 and ‘78 formed the basis for what I thought (and still think) winters should look like and what a real blizzard is!
Ahh, ‘78. Yes, I remember that year well, at least the blizzards. Granted, I was only 5, but I remember the absolute mountains of snow covering the land. The memories I have from the winters of ‘77 and ‘78 formed the basis for what I thought (and still think) winters should look like and what a real blizzard is!
Good memories!
Eric
Right!!?? Winter in Midwest when I was a kid was blustery, cold & piled with snow. I remember once, as a child, we had a 78* day in the middle of winter, boy were we curmuddled!! Short sleeves, no coats or boots... But most of the time we were sledding, building snow forts, and making ice rinks in our backyards. Those were the days... The bestest place to be was at the lake. The only sound was the ice creaking as the water moved underneath. Winters are my favorite next to Autumn. The calm, quiet peace of winter and boy some of the most beautiful sunsets! Miss it. -Tess
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