We knew it was coming: winter, snowdrifts and howling winds. No matter how much foresight we have, it still takes us by surprise.
The chatter at work was all about the weather. There were the brave souls who left home early to drive in from Bowden and Didsbury on icy roads obscured by drifts. They spoke scornfully of the dodderers and equally with disgust of the few that rode the bumpers of the drivers ahead of them.
Sometimes I chose to walk on the snowy days. It is easier then the effort of trying to get my car mobile. We get some wild drifts in the neighbourhood. The first winter I spent here, my car appeared to be half buried, as though I had driven directly into a wall of snow. The back half was clear as was most of the parking lot behind me. At the duplex it was a similar story. My driveway was off the back alley. The alley could be drifted shut, but my drive was bare. I wasn’t stuck but I wasn’t going anywhere either.
Winter has always been a challenge. When we lived in Peace River my husband and I seldom ventured out of town. Grande Prairie was a two-hour drive and when we arrived, we still weren’t anywhere that we wanted to be. It is south and west of Peace River but still in the north and nowhere near home. Edmonton was an occasional destination but it was five hours away. We couldn’t make the trip there and back in one day without leaving well before daybreak.
We enjoyed that experience only once. We encountered black ice and very chilly temperatures but I seem to recall that it wasn’t actually snowing. On another trip back to Olds in mid-winter, we were blessed with a tailgater. He dogged us for several miles before roaring around our vehicle in a shower of snow. He didn’t advance very far. We stopped to check on him, his blue half-ton burrowed into the closest ditch. It was on its side in deep snow. When Rob opened the door of the cab, a stream of abuse greeted him.
Peace River had enormous amounts of snowfall from Halloween till the end of March. We rarely had a break, not receiving the chinook winds that this part of the province enjoys. We were too far north and nowhere near a mountain pass. The temperatures dropped to -40C for a three-week stretch in January with monotonous regularity. It was hard on the vehicles like ours that had to sit outside. Plugging in and running the motor didn’t seem to make a great difference. There was no such thing as heated seats back then.
The snowplows came to our neighbourhood often. The operator had an evil intent I’m sure. He persisted in leaving a high, icy ridge across the end of my driveway, while I was cleaning off my car. I had to use the pickaxe to break through, then clear that away before I could escape. One good thing, I was definitely warm by the time I was done.
- Hoey is a longtime Gazette columnist
