The winter of our contentment

It is challenging that we have had nearly 70 inches of snow near Boston this winter. Everyone is properly sick and tired of shoveling and slipping and sliding about. But hope abounds – spring will soon be here.

Memories abound as well. Late 1950s, high on a plateau above Lake Erie, with an unobstructed view 35 miles across the lake to Port Maitland, Ontario, Canada. In the winter, the snow clouds scudded low and dark across the lake and the wind howled out of the near Arctic north. Deep snow drifted heavily and became much deeper where the wind tired and dropped it.

At the top of the hill above us, the road peaked then dropped quickly to a T-intersection with another farm road. That particular winter, a storm dumped heavy snow and the wind sculpted it into lovely forms that buried the stop sign at Miller Road nearly thrice its height – a 25 foot deep drift. Now this is pure candy to children who tobogganed and sledded and tunneled in that great drift, but the county had the duty to bust the roadway clear.

First up were dual Oshkosh diesel trucks, mounted with massive v-plow blades which rammed and battered into the huge drift, one from the north and one from the south. But neither could break through; heavy black plumes of diesel exhaust stained the sky as the monsters rumbled to a stop, beaten by the huge pile of snow. We watched, entranced, retreating occasionally to a neighboring farm house for a warm interlude of hot chocolate, but soon back to see how the grownups would deal with this conundrum.

After some scratching of heads and puffing of pipes, the elders called up their course of last resort. Shortly after, a third truck pulling a large trailer arrived and unloaded a Caterpillar D6 bulldozer, fortunately equipped with an enclosed cab. The bulldozer operator fired her up and backed the 18 ton crawler off the trailer. Then, after the engine was thoroughly warmed, he raised the blade a few inches and advanced at top speed into the drift. As the engine strained and belched black smoke, the crawler slowed but continued and disappeared completely into the huge drift. As we watched, awestruck, the huge machine eventually emerged seventy five feet further up the road, having cleft the drift in twain. The operator emerged from the enclosed cab and brushed the packed snow from his gallant machine as the twin Oshkosh plows attacked with renewed vigor and success.

We will always remember the valley of snow thus created, twenty five feet deep with steep slopes on both sides which offered immense opportunity for climbing and sliding. It was with regret that we acknowledged the warming sun and longer days that marked the end of a most wonderful winter.