This past weekend was a travel disaster for folks trying to get outta Dodge in the Northeast. I even heard from friends pleading with me to help, as if I could get BWI airport to open. Yep, anyone headed anywhere by plane, train or automobile was stranded. Amtrak canceled service south of DC, airports from Philly southward were closed at least part of the weekend, and many governments closed roads to automobile travel to clean highways and streets, and to get a reprieve from the accidents caused by the brave and foolish who went out anyway.
And, as of Monday morning, this odyessy still hasn’t completely ended.
I’ve lived in both Pennsylvania and Minnesota in my nomadic existence, so I know snow. In fact, I can even drive in it, although I know when it’s best to stay home. Last week I stocked up on essentials — milk, bread, tissue, etc. — and some non-essentials — nachos, photo memory cards, even a new toy or two for our soon-to-be snowbound five year old. I thought I could survive without worrying about road conditions, hotel availability or anything travel related, other than maybe penning another article for Consumer Traveler.
I was wrong.
I was wrong because two weeks ago my parents, who hail from Pennsylvania, left for New Orleans, by car. The monster storm wasn’t even a blip on the weather radar then. Complicating things more — my mother is a Postmaster. With her vacation scheduled to end, she needed to get home. You know the saying, “Neither rain nor sleet nor snow shall stay these carriers from their appointed rounds…”
I called them last Thursday to tell them I had a bit of bad news.
“Well, what’s up? It’s 80 degrees here.”
“Enjoy it while it lasts,” I said, and explained the forecast, adding a sliver of hope, “They were wrong the last time.”
“Yeah,” my mother said, “They said we’d get a dusting, and we got 8 inches.”
“Still, they were wrong, maybe this time we’ll get the dusting.”
So began the odyssey on my weird weekend — shoveling out walks, cars and heat pumps from the 34 inches of white stuff Annapolis got, while keeping tabs on the status of Interstate 95.
Late Friday, Feb. 6: “It’s snowing, a lot!” (Maybe the understatement of the year).
Saturday morning 8:50 a.m.: I woke them (still in New Orleans) to say that we had almost 2 feet already. “Stay as far south as you can.” (I think I heard my mother squeak) “Add on a few extra days until the roads are cleared.” Day says my super-conscientious mother is now hyperventilating; they have to get back to open her post office. I mean, the junk mail must go on.
Their hotel was turning them out anyway — booked solid for Super Bowl and Mardi Gras. They hit the road, hoping for the best. They called every hour or so for updates until I pointed out that my local road conditions would hardly be informative until they got closer (Hopefully, after a plow got through).
Saturday, 1:23 p.m.: “It’s STILL Snowing! I already shoveled once, and there’s another foot.” Dad, “We’re in Georgia, the sky is blue and the weather is great!” (They’re spending the night near Atlanta.)
I Googled conditions in Richmond, and York, PA (the city nearest their home) and several other spots they’d be traveling through. None were encouraging.
Saturday, 5:34 p.m.: I called to say Interstate 95 corridor was apparently hit hardest by the storm. That meant that as they got further north, lodgings, already crowded with stranded travelers and those who lost power in their homes, would be difficult to obtain.
Saturday, 10:05 p.m.: With ever-changing bulletins that roads were open, closed, then opened again, we agree that, depending on conditions when they got to the Maryland area, they’ll come to my house and I’ll ferry my mother to work. I had no illusions about the condition of the steep hill to their house, or whether it has electricity. I am, hands down, the best snow driver in the family, having learned at the police academy. They just have to get to Maryland first.
Sunday, 9 a.m.: I woke my father with the latest update – Maryland was shoveling out, and many highways were passable, if slightly treacherous, but some areas were still closed to cars. Dad, “We had a great breakfast at this cute inn in Social Circle.”
Now is a good time to recite the same snow survival advice I gave my father as he trekked northward toward the blizzard. If you absolutely have to go out in such weather, go prepared. You’ll need:
- Full tank of gas (to keep the car running and warm if stranded, and because many stations close – get gas wherever and whenever you can on long travels).
- Blankets
- Flashlights and flares
- Water and non-perishable food (energy bars are good, old people like my parents seem to prefer junk food like chips and pretzels).
- Extra cash (I’m a credit card baby myself, but actual bills, please).
- Cellphone and a charger (This is not a luxury, it could save your life). Smartphones are great for updated road conditions.
- Maps covering your entire route. (Back-up for GPS).
- Clothes appropriate for the weather in case you have to leave the car, and take extra outerwear to change.
- First aid kit (including extra doses of medications you take regularly).
- Sand or other traction agent. (Chains are good, but check for restrictions).
- Ice scraper, and A SHOVEL!
- Add weight to the rear of your car (in my parents case, with their trunk-load of luggage, this was not an issue)
I drove back to Maryland from Minnesota in what was then called the blizzard of 2007. It can be extremely monotonous to drive through a swirling white world where most of the known landmarks are buried. It’s important, in case you get stranded, to constantly be aware of where you are, so you can report your location to emergency personnel. Note mile markers, exit signs and other such designations. Stick to main roads and use highways as much as possible – interstates and toll roads often use an AM station to broadcast road status reports. Because roads freeze overnight, start late and stop driving early in the evening.
In 1993, during the “storm of the century,’ I drove from Maryland where I was staying with friends to the Pennsylvania border to check out the wintry wonderland (that storm dumped two feet or more). Why? Just because I could in my peppy little Honda. Troopers at the state line turned traffic away. I cheerfully waved and drove back.
During epic storms this is likely to happen, and cops burdened with responsibilities have little tolerance for folks out joyriding. If you are a non-local, politely and respectfully inform the officer you were vacationing far from home when the storm hit. This does not mean you’ll be allowed to pass, but it does mean he/she will not assume you are a jerk. They might even allow you to continue down a major road escorted by a snow plow, if one is in the area and they can verify that you can get through.
Sunday 11:25 a.m.: Dad called. He’s been making calls up and down the interstate. Smithfield, N.C. reports they got no snow, Richmond’s cleared, and Fredricksburg, Va., (three hours from home) is reportedly OK, too. He admits, Pennsylvania is always the bitch. I tell him my offer of shelter and a ride to work still stands.
Sunday, 1:39 p.m.: My driveway isn’t clear! My car’s dug out, and the county road is reportedly drivable, but the contractor who’s supposed to plow the 100 foot driveway between them hasn’t showed. Could be a snag.
Sunday, 5:57 p.m.: We’ve been out sledding and exploring, I check in with them. They’ve made to northern NC, where temps are in the 50s, and there’s no snow. Their neighbor reports there’s over 2 feet at their house. Mom hires a guy to clear the walks and drive.
Monday 10:50 a.m.: I let them sleep in. (OK, so I slept in). Like much of the Mid-Atlantic world schools and my office are closed. Dad says they only got to Roanoke Rapids, NC, but will push for home today. We’ll see.
