So it’s the thirty year anniversary of the Great Blizzard of 1993.
It was hurricane strength winds, and about three feet of snow, with a whole lot of drifting.
The weather reports were full of it, so it wasn’t any surprise.
I had my old business in Buckhead – it must have been a Friday evening – and I really wanted to come up to see it snow.
If I had, I’d have been here for a long time. It was about three weeks before the trees that had fallen across the road were cut far enough to get to my driveway. That might have been early because the Sisson people were building a spec cabin for Roy Quintrell next door, and they were probably keen to get back to work. I think they were a little surprised when I stepped out of my old Chevy C-10 in my driving moccasins and crawled over the three foot log that blocked the top of the driveway.
The place was a shell that Dad and I were working on, and except for the huge tree down across the driveway, pretty much intact.
Anyone who lived through it had a story to tell.
My erstwhile colleague, John Brown, was living in his development, Crestwood. He told me that he really didn’t appreciate what a crisis it was until he saw the National Guard driving Humvees up Old Loving Road, asking if anyone needed anything. I think he said that was a week or so later.
Bob Lindberg was at his place on Picklesimer Mountain, a high ridge, with the national forest across the road. In other words, a high lead, in mountain terms, or an exposed ridge. For some reason – I can’t remember if he told me why – he felt he had to go down the road to his nearest neighbor – maybe 600 feet on a fairly steep downhill – either to bring him something or to get something from him. I think it was probably to take something to him. He told me that when he started back that the snow was about hip deep, and he honestly didn’t know if he could make it back.
Trees were down everywhere because winds had been up to hurricane strength. I used to come in from Cutcane Road in the old days. Headed east on Cutcane across the bridge over Hemptown Creek, the side of Dividing Ridge on the left was denuded, with all the trees blown down. There were trees down everywhere.
George Robinson told me that when he got done driving his Dad to work, it was already snowing hard, and he decided not to go to work. Just get ready. I can’t remember all he told me he did to get ready, but he was living in that little cabin just east of Tanktown, up above the old farm, and he said that in the end there were 17 people there, because he was the only one who had time to get ready.
Here’s a link to a good meterological discussion. If you scroll down, there are some links to local newspaper articles.