On January 12th,
we passed the 125th anniversary of the Blizzard of 1888. I’ve read varying
accounts of the storm and about the devastation it caused and about the
horrible tragedies, death and heartache. It hit on a day that started out calm
and unseasonably warm and struck with hurricane force winds that continued on
for days. The temperatures dropped from near 30F to in some cases, -40 degrees
below zero and it deposited nearly 4 feet of snow in the time span of just a
few hours. The winds were so strong it blew the roof off of barns and school
houses and left many trapped or pinned down right where they were when the
winds hit. Some school teachers were considered
heroes because after losing the roof to the building, they led their students
to the safety of a neighboring farmhouse.
Of the 235 people who lost
their lives in the storm, most were school children. Other folks died within a
few feet of their home, unable to find their way in the blinding snow and
unable to hear loved ones banging on pans from the porch. It’s worth taking the
time to find and read the accounts of that storm. It points out the fact that
when Mother Nature throws her best punch, we lose.
I recall a storm we
witnessed firsthand. In the late 1970’s we put afloat with several families and
boats from near our place on the Missouri River in route to near Ponca
Nebraska. We were going to caravan (or would that be (boatavan) up stream to
camp, fish, and basically carry on with family activities on the banks of the
wide Missouri for 2 glorious fun packed days and nights.
Our armada was beached all
in a neat row that Friday night, in what turned out to be a sandy beach/picnic
area/cow pasture. The cow herd left us kindling for the fire but none ready to
use on that trip.
We pitched our tents and
the volleyball net. I picked the beautiful spot for our tent that we were
sharing with friends.
We ate supper and the sky
turned nasty looking. It was bedtime soon after that and we all bedded down in
our tents because it was beginning to rain and it put the fire out. It began to
rain very hard. The winds came up and the lightning was ferocious. The river
where we were camped wasn’t too wide. I would guess it to have been maybe 200
yards wide and there were several strikes within a quarter mile of us over the
next two hours. At about midnight my friend on the other side of our big tent
said, “Cliff, push down on the floor of the tent.” I did and it felt like a
water bed. I had to push down about 7 or 8 inches before I could feel the
ground. We were in trouble. We and our wives were in more trouble than the
others. My choice spot was actually in a depression caused by rain water running
to the river. We bailed out of our tent and everyone headed to try to save
their boats that were all sinking from the rain water. Five gallon and minnow
buckets were pressed into frantic service. All of this scooping action went on
as the lightning intensified. When the rain finally quit, some of the runabouts
had their tops and storm covers put up and the kids and an adult were moved
from the soaked tents to the interior of the wet boats. Most of us spent the
rest of the night huddled around a fire trying to dry our clothes. It didn’t
work. Dawn finally broke after what seemed to be an eternity and we began
loading 50 pound sleeping bags into the boats, along with even heavier tents,
coolers and unused food and we said good bye to our glorious weekend retreat.
We’d all been up 24 hours to that point and we had to navigate muddy, turbulent
water to try and get home. The two hour trip home took nearly 5 hours. We had
to steer clear of picnic tables, large cottonwoods trees, old sows, steers,
footballs, and 55 gallon drums all churning in what appeared to be chocolate
milk.
We got home to read that
the storm that night dumped over 7 inches of rain near Ponca in a two hour
period. We could attest to that.
Lessons learned that night
were many. One neighbor sold his tent and vowed never to sleep on the ground
again; and he didn’t. I vowed to pick spots for my tent that were a bit higher
than the surrounding terrain. My other big lesson for camping in the rain was
to get up at the first sign of a storm and keep your bedding dry. Then you can
go back to bed.
But the biggest lesson of
all is that Mother Nature always wins the big fights; all we’re ever left with
are the stories.
