Cold Weather Stories

[Captain Kidd]

I'll start.

(More of a memory than a story)

My folks grew up in the depression - mom born 1929, dad 1931. They were country people, farmers, poor. The house my mom grew up in was really old and was heated with wood burning stoves and fire places (as was dad's home in those early days).

Here's the house. First pic taken from the dirt road. There was a half-mile winding dirt driveway that went down through the "bottom", across the creek and then up to the house.

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Found this pic online. This is pretty close to what they heated the bedrooms with.

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I remember as a boy visiting in the winter. There was no indoor plumbing. Bedrooms were "equipped" with wash basins looking something like this only a little more banged up. They were small and sat on top of a small table or dresser.

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At night they would pile on the quilts. Once you got into bed and warmed it up, you hated to move. I remember by morning the basins having frozen water in them.

THOSE WERE THE DAYS!!

BTW: for those with any Southern Baptist experience, the Sunbeams children's program was started in this house. The SBC offered to buy and restore the house for historical purposes. For some reason, the family wouldn't sell. They later moved to the adjoining farm.

When I was a teenager, we went to visit. My brother and I were going to walk over to the old house which was empty (no one ever lived in it after they moved out). Half way across the bottom, we noticed smoke. The old house was on fire. As you might guess, it burned to the ground. It was too remote for firemen to arrive in time. The speculation was that some vagrants probably had a fire going in the house and the house itself caught fire. We'll never know for sure. We always regretted that it wasn't restored.

My siblings and cousins all cherish our memories of the farm.

[Brian N.]

Cap Kidd - very cool story

My parents are of the same vintage, dad 1927 and mom a couple of years younger. We were also very poor, and we grew up in in a small apartment in a public housing project in Queens NY. In 1962 (I believe) we had a blizzard that buried everything with wind driven snow. My Mother took us outside to play after it ended and I remember the drifts were above my head (I was 5 YO).

Several years later we moved up to a row house in Rockaway Beach, Queens NY. BTW- Yes the same Rockaway beach made famous by the Ramones in a song. We were only a couple of blocks from the beach, with a wide open sand lot just across the street. The blizzard of 1969 (or was it 1967?) dumped a ton of snow and the wind piled the snow a couple of feet high. I cut two plywood planks, and with wire attached them to my boots as snowshoe/skis. Soon all the neighborhood kids did the same!

Since this is a sailing forum I'll add the following: My first exposure to boating was in Rockaway Beach on a friend's very old skiff with a smoky old outboard engine. However, I would often go to the Jamaica Bay side of the Rockaway peninsula and  watch the "rich" folk power out of the channel leading to the ocean on some beautiful yachts. Sailboats were very rarely seen.

P.S. Yes I was a NY Mets fan as Shea stadium was close by and bleacher tickets were cheap or Dad would get them free from his job (drove a truck for Anheuser-Bush who owned the Cardinals)

[Charles Brennan]

It was a night just like last night, that reminded me of THIS Story! . . . . . .

It's hard to get any sympathy for enduring Cold Weather in southern Florida.
Those northern climes up where the water tends to get a little rigid, seems to give northerners some bizarre lock on a meteorological  moral high ground, somehow.   
Shrimping in south Florida is best in the winter months.
The winds come from the northwest, the air temps drop, the tides pick up, the shrimp get frisky and get swept to the surface, in the currents.  In Biscayne Bay, individual shrimpers with Coleman lanterns and dip nets on 18-foot extension handles, wait patiently for just the right tide to sweep shrimp up to the surface under the bridge catwalks, to be dipped up until supper is finally procured.
Even better than all the bridges, are inlets, but you have to pick and choose and decide your trade-offs. Government Cut is huge and wide, but while the cruise ships leave in the morning or afternoon hours, the freighters leave at all hours of the night.  Nor are they inclined to slow down and brake a few million tons of momentum, while you up anchor and move out of their way.
Similarly, Port Everglades has its' share of freighters leaving at odd hours and it has an un-godly chop right where the shrimping WOULD be best, if it weren't for a 60-foot deep channel, colliding with 15-foot shoals on an out-going tide.

Ah, but Bakers Haulover Inlet!   
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Somewhat narrow comparatively, but only drift-fishers party-boats and sports-fishing boats ever leave there, during the evening hours. Just east and north of the inlet is a lot of eel grass (Prime Shrimp Real Estate) and an excellent place, to dip for shrimp.  One waits for low tide so that the mast clears the fixed bridge running down Collins Avenue and works their way outside, knowing full well that they are making a 6-10 hour commitment before getting back under that bridge again.  We so rarely get the full confluence of moon, temperature, wind direction, tide, season of the year, etc. that when those conditions all coalesce, it's Time To Go Shrimping!! 

My wife, my small son and even smaller daughter and me, found ourselves out there one February night and the shrimping truly was Worth It.    There were soooooooo many shrimp, that even a four-year-old holding the net the wrong way and dipping it downstream, was catching shrimp every now and again.  The seven-year-old was holding even with his mother and the two of them combined, were staying even with me. 
Urchin is a surprisingly good boat to go shrimping with.
You can use a short length of parachute cord to hang a Coleman lantern off the bow pulpit and bungee cord the bottom half of the lantern to the bow eye, to keep the lantern from beating itself to death in the wave action.  Then you casually hook an arm around the forestay and dip up shrimp from port or starboard and place them in the 5-gallon PVC bucket lashed to the mast and centrally located, for all the dip netters.

Further back, the wife and daughter share either side of the cabin roof, each facing out to the sides of the cut.  Then you hang a lantern from each side of the side shrouds and let the white gel-coated sides of the hull reflect the light all over everywhere, to light up all the area that can be reached with the dip net.  Finally, the boy stands on the cockpit seats with his trusty dip net and the final lantern tied to the backstay, reflecting light off the highly varnished rudder and lighting the water with a warm glow, that still exposes the red eyes of the little crustaceans swept up to the surface from the turbulence of passing under the hull.  Everyone in jeans, a sweatshirt, hooded windbreaker and face cheeks burning red, in the northwest winds. 
A Truly Glorious Night. 

Until the National Weather Service got into the act.   
It was a pretty cold, cold front that was supposed to whip quickly through south Florida, on its way toward be-deviling the Bahamas. 
It Stalled.
Over Urchin.
And the temperature dropped.    
A Brisk Night is one thing; a Chilly Night is yet another thing.  This was a Whole 'NOTHER thing!! 
The 4 year-old daughter was the first to show any common sense and she ducked down below into the cabin, to go to sleep on a berth.  She was reluctantly followed by her brother, who immediately zonked out on the other berth.
But the shrimp were still coming through in enough quantities to impress my wife and her Yankee Trader sensibilities, as she mentally calculated the monetary worth of the seafood we were accumulating; so she kept dipping the shrimp with me. 
I was beginning to become mildly concerned that the winds weren't swinging northeasterly (like I had been PROMISED!!)  but I also knew that there was no way we were getting back through that bridge, for several more hours.

The temperature continued to drop. 
My wife went below and got the blankets out of the forward deep storage locker and covered up the kids and brought another blanket up on deck and wrapped herself up and attempted to keep shrimping, whils't wrapped up like any Sioux Squaw in North Dakota, in February, would have. 
I'm guessing those Squaws don't get too many shrimps wrapped up like that, either.
Finally, I told her to go below, to her rapidly diminishing protestations that no, she was fine, just give her a minute to warm up a little, she'd be right up back there and dipping the shrimp up, like a trooper.
(This last part, said from down below.) 

Seeing how ineffectual the blankets had been on deck, I decided not to get my blanket out. 
I DID however, figure I could pull a foulie over my sweatshirt and windbreaker and improve things a little bit heat-wise.  Good thing I did too, because when I went below, my wife was wrapped up in both HER blanket and MY blanket!! 
Ah, well.
"Gotta make hay while the sun shines"    as they say in Iowa or Kansas.  The Florida equivalent is: "Gotta dip shrimp while the tide runs!" Although I was beginning to think it couldn't run out fast enough, for me. 

Shrimp isn't the only thing you dip up when you're shrimping.  Crabs, Mantis, sea weed, occasional Box fish or even Cow fish might just show up in a net.
And for the first time ever (in my experience) Sea Horses! 
The cold weather had stunned the poor little beasties and they were swept up to the surface and caught in the dip net, along with their shrimpy brethren.  I thought they had succumbed to the cold and were dead.  While I examined them under the blazing scrutiny of the Coleman lantern, they thawed under the lantern's heat and came back to life!   
Hmmm . . . . . now, what to do? 
Leave them out of the water under the lantern and they die; throw them back in and they might die from temperature shock.  I finally decided that a Risk of Death was better than Certain Death and tossed them back with a silent prayer and hoped for the best for them.  I went down inside the cabin to tell my wife about the seahorses and saw where she had huddled the kids together with her, all up in the forward vee-berth. 
It was REALLY getting cold! 
And I was beginning to worry about my family.  I grabbed the lanterns from the side shrouds and brought them down below.  I figured that with the forward hatch vented and the lanterns in the companionway area, that I could provide heat, light and minimal lethal monoxides.  I used a padlock to shackle the lanterns to the companionway hatch and let them hang in the main cabin, while I considered my situation:
Temps dropping faster than the tide was dropping the water and beginning to outstrip my ability to cope.

I finally decided Enough Was Enough    and started preparing to get outta Fridge, I mean, get outta Dodge.
I couldn't leave the lanterns lit and swinging wildly while underway, so I shut them all down and bungeed them against the centerboard trunk in their usual place.  Normally, you have to wait for the lanterns to cool down enough not to melt the indoor/outdoor carpeting covering the trunk, but that wasn't a problem on this night.  I locked down the forward hatch so any errant waves wouldn't soak and freeze my family and as an afterthought, pulled out the genoa from a sail bag and covered everyone over with that, to help add another layer of insulation. 
Nobody stirred.

Back up on deck  . . . . . . 
YEEEEEEE-HOOO-HOOOO-HOOOO-HOOOOOO!!! 
IT'S COLD    UP HERE!! 
Getting rapidly more desperate, I checked out the bridge height markers on the pilings and judged that it might be close enough to low tide to just squeak underneath, with my mast. 
Pulling up the 100-feet of anchor rode was a horror. 
The water was comparatively warm on my hands as I pulled on the tri-laid nylon, then the wind would hit me and chill my fingers most bitterly.  Not being a northerner, I wondered at what point Frost-Bite kicks in.  It was so cold, I didn't even bother with stowing the anchor and all that rode, but left it up on the foredeck, with only a quick lash, a lick and a promise, keeping it aboard.

Now for the motor.
A 5hp Sears Gamefisher that (though I didn't know it, then) I was going to be really grateful in another few months when it got stolen from my back yard, because I despised it so much. 
Thing would NOT start. 
My arms were getting numb as rapidly as my fingers now, as I fought with the recalcitrant machinery. 
In desperation, I finally tried something I had never before needed in Florida: The Choke Knob. 
Kicked right over and ran very roughly; but it ran and that was good enough for me. 
Then I put it in gear.
And it promptly died. 
Restarted it and quickly determined the extent of the Catch-22:  It wouldn't run in gear with the choke ON and it wouldn't run at ALL, with the choke OFF. 
And I wanted to GO HOME!! 
Instead of going further east out Haulover Cut, as the tide was bringing me.

Ah, well.
I hoisted the main sail and sourly observed my speed over the ground at little better than a slow crawl westward, on the remains of the outgoing tide.   
But it WAS forward progress, however painful, so I steeled myself to a long night. 
Because the wind was still out of the northwest.
All four knots of it. 
And the ramp was due north of me, whenever I finally crawled out from underneath the bridge. 
That was ANOTHER Unpleasant Experience on a rapidly diminishing evening.  Knowing how close your mast is to the bridge structure above, while going under it as slowly as possible and trying to keep the boat centered under the span, while that same span is cutting off what little air and steerage you might still have, is NOT something I would recommend or ever want to repeat.   
Only felt like about 6 or 8 hours I was under there, looking up, heart-in-throat the whole time.

Finally, I was in the clear and pinching my way northward into light northwest winds.
MY!!! (Or perhaps Stronger Words) It was COLD!!   
I moved all the way forward in the cockpit to duck down behind the cabin, occasionally peeking above it for any boat traffic.
I quickly realized that was a non-starter on a night like this, since the ONLY Idiot STOOOOPID enough    to be out there on a night like this, ALREADY WAS!! 
Still had to stay in the channel, though.
After enough time, exposed to the point that my thought processes were beginning to be obviously impaired (even to me), I finally saw the break in the mangroves that signaled the entrance to the boat ramp.  I picked the closest ramp to the tow vehicle (since I had my choice of any ramp in the totally deserted parking lot) and brought the boat in alongside the dock.
Much too fast. 
My brain was so numb from the cold, I never gave a thought to dropping the main sail.  I ran forward, thumping across the cabin, grabbed the anchor, chain and rode, that was still attached to the bow cleat and hastily took a turn around a piling to act as an emergency brake/spring line and dropped the anchor on the dock, where it immediately fell over the side of the dock and into the water, with an impressive splash.

I heard the beginnings of a quickly stifled curse, as my wife struggled out of her cocoon of coverings and rushed up on deck.   I found out later, she thought we were still Out There and I had somehow, gone over the side and the splash that awoke her was ME!!   
I recovered the boat in record time, while my wife ran the car heater full blast.  The kids were beginning to wake up and they reminded me exactly of the Sea Horses thawing out and coming back to life.  I plotted a direct course to the nearest Hot Chocolate Emporium (a Dunkin' Donut, as it happened) and parked both the vehicle and trailer in as tight a parking spot as I was ever in, in a single try. 
Friends, I'm here to tell ya, there's a LOT to be said for Sufficient Motivation! 

I held the hot chocolate in my hands for quite a while, before I took a sip. 
I thought about the gallon or so of shrimp we had caught and after a while, my smile began to thaw out, too.

True Story,
Charles Brennan

[Captain Kidd]

Cold, wind and water don't mix. Quite the story, Charles.

I guess that's the same Haulover Inlet that we see on all the youtube videos of boats bucking the incoming waves.

[Captain Kidd]

Cap Kidd - very cool story

I thought it was a very "cold" story - LOL

Growing up in Queens - must have been quite an adventure all around. We're not too much into sit-coms, but we always enjoyed "King of Queens" and "Raymond".

Speaking of "rich folks". As a young man living outside Baltimore, I became enamored with the sailboats I'd see at the Inner Harbor. For some reason I assumed sailing was for rich folks. I mean - the boats I saw were big and had to be expensive. Somehow, I never figured out that you could buy a small, old sailboat for cheap, until I moved to NC and came across an ad. That's when I took up sailing at the tender age of 43.

[noelH]

In college a trend developed.  Our "apartments" ended up being condemned by the city for "issues".  Apartment #2, a lower level of a house.  We arrived finding the door padlocked by the city fire inspector.  Notice on door. Called our new landlord.  What the F... He had a 1st and last month payment from us.  He fixed the problem in a couple days.  No exhaust vent for the natural gas or oil heater. Heat and exhaust apparently was vented through the one large grate on floor in the hallway that heated the unit.

Winter arrived. Bloody cold "apartment".  One bedroom unit for 3 of us.  We needed to sleep in our sleeping bags under whatever quilt or blankets you had. Wear a hat and layer on the sleeping garments. Winter camping can be fun. But this was not. Even though we had to hit the sack as if we were up in the BWCA camping in January. Ice from our respiration  on the windows never melted.  Just kept building up all winter.  Mornings were not the most pleasant time.

We sort of figured out that without the heater exhaust adding some warmth this "apartment" was like living in a cardboard box outside in the middle of a MN winter.  Of course the CO in the exhaust would have ended our discomfort probably on night one.  Place was condemned after we moved out at the end of the school year.  Probably from the repeated Spring flood of melting ice rotting away the floor and substructure.  Easy for mice to chew through.  But they knew better than us that it's too cold of a shelter for winter.

[Noemi - Ensenada 20]

1968, Michigan - the Big Snowstorm.  Cars were buried.  My dad would shovel out the driveway, then the city plows would come down the street and throw snow into the end of it.  My dad got to shovel that out again....and again.  The resultant mountain of snow next to the driveway was a magnet for us kids!  We'd climb and slide and dig tunnels!  My dad warned us not to tunnel into it - it might collapse.  But we paid him no heed.

One day, he took us across the street to the big field and we helped him roll disks of snow that he built into a round igloo shape.  Half round, walls taller than us, with a snow bench inside.  We have pics of us three big kids sitting on that bench in matching red coats.  And one pic of my brother's torso coming out of a tunnel, with someone else's legs out the far away other end. 

Good times!

[Captain Kidd]

In college a trend developed.  Our "apartments" ended up being condemned by the city for "issues".  Apartment #2, a lower level of a house.  We arrived finding the door padlocked by the city fire inspector.  Notice on door. Called our new landlord.  What the F... He had a 1st and last month payment from us.  He fixed the problem in a couple days.  No exhaust vent for the natural gas or oil heater. Heat and exhaust apparently was vented through the one large grate on floor in the hallway that heated the unit.

Winter arrived. Bloody cold "apartment".  One bedroom unit for 3 of us.  We needed to sleep in our sleeping bags under whatever quilt or blankets you had. Wear a hat and layer on the sleeping garments. Winter camping can be fun. But this was not. Even though we had to hit the sack as if we were up in the BWCA camping in January. Ice from our respiration  on the windows never melted.  Just kept building up all winter.  Mornings were not the most pleasant time.

We sort of figured out that without the heater exhaust adding some warmth this "apartment" was like living in a cardboard box outside in the middle of a MN winter.  Of course the CO in the exhaust would have ended our discomfort probably on night one.  Place was condemned after we moved out at the end of the school year.  Probably from the repeated Spring flood of melting ice rotting away the floor and substructure.  Easy for mice to chew through.  But they knew better than us that it's too cold of a shelter for winter.

Unbelievable! No, I believe you, but still...

[Captain Kidd]

1968, Michigan - the Big Snowstorm.  Cars were buried.  My dad would shovel out the driveway, then the city plows would come down the street and throw snow into the end of it.  My dad got to shovel that out again....and again.  The resultant mountain of snow next to the driveway was a magnet for us kids!  We'd climb and slide and dig tunnels!  My dad warned us not to tunnel into it - it might collapse.  But we paid him no heed.

One day, he took us across the street to the big field and we helped him roll disks of snow that he built into a round igloo shape.  Half round, walls taller than us, with a snow bench inside.  We have pics of us three big kids sitting on that bench in matching red coats.  And one pic of my brother's torso coming out of a tunnel, with someone else's legs out the far away other end. 

Good times!

Wow, does that bring back memories! We had a few big ones when young too: tunnels, plows, mounds and all. Oh, that plowed snow is especially tough to shovel!!

I guess it's been 30 years since we were a part of one of those big snows.

[Brian N.]

Captain - Yes growing up in Queens had some interesting moments, and some did resemble TV shows and true to life stereotypes as depicted on "King of Queens", "Everyone loves Raymond", "The Nanny" and even "All in the Family" and "The Jeffersons". One great advantage was tuition free College at Queens College, part of City University of NY. That allowed a poor boy whose parents never completed high school, to go on to a very successful career. I'm ever thankful for that break.

[Norm L.]

Having lived, schooled and worked for 23 years between 41 and 53 North in the winter doesn't mean that I still like cold weather.

It is a first time to see an orange tree and bamboo covered in snow. With no long low night temperatures, they should survive. I would much prefer that the orange tree stays strong, and the bamboos pass on.

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[Captain Kidd]

Sorry, but I've got to tell another cold-weather story!

My wife always wanted to get married in Bryan Park in Richmond, VA. She wanted a springtime wedding with all the flowers in bloom. But, no! I had to push our wedding up to February. She went along. The day before our wedding it snowed. Not a lot in Richmond - it covered the ground, but north of us it had snowed a lot. And we were headed for the Poconos for our honeymoon.

Well, we drove north into a winter wonderland. It was fabulous. I guess there was a foot of snow or more. We snowmobiled, ice skated on their frozen pond, went horseback riding in the snow and even took an airplane ride over the Delaware River gap. We had the best time. Sad to say, the film developing company accidentally destroyed our pictures! The only pictures we have from our honeymoon are a handfull taken by staff for a small album we paid for. Here are a couple.

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You can see the birch tree in the foreground and a good bit of snow. The name of the resort was Birchwood. BTW: the resort's airplane hanger is where they found Eric Frein, the guy who ambushed the state troopers.

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While we were there, I promised to take her back on our 5th anniversary. Well, it came quicker than I thought (we're now headed for #47!). We were living in Maryland by that time and wouldn't you know, right before we were to leave for our trip, it came a blizzard! Man, did it snow. Fortunately, in a day or so the roads were plowed and we went. The conditions were almost identical to our honeymoon: lots of snow and fun.

Here ya go:

Kinda dark but you can see the deep snow.

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and the two lovebirds

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Great memories for my wife and me. She's always said, give me a chalet like we stayed in at Birchwood and I'll be happy!

(screen shot of the chalets on the pond as of 2018. we stayed in chalet #2 on our honeymoon; not sure which one that would be. resort has long been closed)

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[Noemi - Ensenada 20]

I guess it's been 30 years since we were a part of one of those big snows.

We had another in 1978, when I was in college in Kalamazoo.  Buried my car.  There were dogsleds going down Main Street!  We were out of school for three days.  It was so fun! 

And then again in...1998?  Here in Lafayette.  We had been in Michigan for the holidays, but decided to head home early because of the storm.  The four-hour trip took eight hours.  We arrived home to find the apartment cold - snow had been blown in through the exhaust tube, and cracked the igniter.  Of course, all the HVAC companies were inundated with emergency calls, or snowed in themselves.  We found someone who thought he had a part that would work, so we drove the Bronco II as far as it would go into that not-yet-shoveled neighborhood, then walked a few blocks more through knee-deep snow.  Got the part, didn't get stuck going home, repaired the furnace.  And then walked downtown to make snowmen on top of those mountains of snow the plows left at every corner. 

[Captain Kidd]

I guess it's been 30 years since we were a part of one of those big snows.

We had another in 1978, when I was in college in Kalamazoo.  Buried my car.  There were dogsleds going down Main Street!  We were out of school for three days.  It was so fun! 

And then again in...1998?  Here in Lafayette.  We had been in Michigan for the holidays, but decided to head home early because of the storm.  The four-hour trip took eight hours.  We arrived home to find the apartment cold - snow had been blown in through the exhaust tube, and cracked the igniter.  Of course, all the HVAC companies were inundated with emergency calls, or snowed in themselves.  We found someone who thought he had a part that would work, so we drove the Bronco II as far as it would go into that not-yet-shoveled neighborhood, then walked a few blocks more through knee-deep snow.  Got the part, didn't get stuck going home, repaired the furnace.  And then walked downtown to make snowmen on top of those mountains of snow the plows left at every corner. 

Memorable experiences no doubt. Sounds like '78 was a snowy year.

As an aside, I spent the summer of '76 in Kalamazoo doing something like an internship at Green Meadow Bible Church. Was a good summer. Made some friends and even went back over winter break and worked a few weeks. I graduated from college in '77.

[Krusen]

The blizzard of 1966, Washington DC.

The weather forecast was scary, and I prepared for the worst.
Long bed '63 Chevy pickup, half ton with ¾ ton suspension, 2 inches higher.  6 cylinder engine and 3 speed shift.  It had 16 inch wheels, not the standard 15's, and commercial rated tires, taller sidewalls and deeper tread.  On the rear, I had upgraded to a pair of wider rims and even taller commercial aggressive winter treads.  Expensive chains with the crossbar extra bites were on the chains.
I had 4 rear wheels, and the set with chains were in the basement.  I jacked up the truck, and put them on for the snow to come.  Next, a 4X4 was fitted across behind the wheel wells, and frozen in placed with a little water, and paving block filled the space behind the 4X4, also frozen in place, total about half ton of stone.  I am on a court, at the turnaround, and it was never plowed by the city, just the through streets, so I pulled down into the street.  We had a pile of sand for the wall we were building with the paving blocks (real antiques, very hard stone).
I spread an inch of sand on the concrete drive, and when the storm was well developed, cleared some snow, and built a fire with scrap wood for warming back up.  All the kids on our court, more than 20, and others from nearby were sledding, as there were no plows expected.
Shirley was 4 months pregnant, and did not ride sleds, but brought out hot chocolate for the sledders around the fire.  Gradually, the kids went home to bed, but many parents stayed and used the sleds.  Eventually, the snow was too deep to sled, and Earl, across the court, chained a contractor wheel barrow to his back bumper, and "Plowed" a sled path, and the party continued.
Finally the wind was drifting the snow too fast to keep the track open, and we quit for the night.

That was the fun chapter.

Normal commute time was 30 minutes or less.  With snow drifted over my 42 inch chain link fence in many places, driving was a challenge, and I departed 2 hours before due at work.  Using the back up and bump the drifts technique kept me from loosing contact with firm snow, and I progressed to the main through street, which had only a foot of unplowed snow, but as I went over the top of the ridge, I stopped to check the steep other side, and found the city snow plow abandoned and drifted in.

Backed carefully out, and tried another smaller street, and after a number of back outs, finally out to a major county highway, which took me at about a 45 degrees from desired direction, but the streets that went my way were unplowed and drifted deep.
After 2 hours and 45 minutes, I arrived in the fully plowed company parking lot.  When I walked in, 45 minutes late, the shop foreman asked if I had driven my pickup.  When I replied yes, he asked if I thought I could get to Hunting Hill substation, NW of Rockville MD a few miles on State R 28.  I thought I could, and willing to try.
The complete station was shut down from overload, a real-estate developer had built an all electric community in an otherwise farming area.  They had been without power, heat, light, or cooking, since midnight.
The drive out was an adventure, even the Washington beltway was just plowed a wide single lane, but there was no traffic on it.  The 270 split north was the same, and I was pleasantly surprised that the R 28 ramp was plowed.  A hundred yards later, 28 was a single lane with over a foot of snow on it, 4 and 5 foot berms of plowed snow on each side.  I hoped that we would not meet the plow coming back. 

At the gate in the station fence, I parked, engine running, and my helper and I both got out, and started shoveling through the high wall of snow from the plow, and then wide enough to open the gate. 
Inside the fence, it was about 50 feet to the equipment, a transformer, and cubicles with over current relays and circuit breakers.  When we had enough snow shoveled for me to open the cubicle doors, my helper went to the transformer to clear the snow out of the fans for the cooling radiators for the transformer oil.  They were not likely to run, but if they did come on full of snow, they would burn out, a major replacement expense.

The transformer had tripped for over current, its actual limit is temperature, and the max temp indicator was only 60 degrees C, and the temperature limit is 95 degrees C.  I radioed the data, including the max current recorded when the transformer tripped, and the system engineer calculated a new over current setting.
Next, with the transformer back in service, we increased the settings for the feeder over current a similar amount, and one by one, closed them in.  The current meters pegged, we connected a portable meter with a higher scale, and found the over current relays were not in danger of tripping, and after an hour, the recording current meter started to decrease as refrigerators turned off, and people turned off lights and quit cooking.  The heat pumps had many hours to go before they reached desired temperature.

With the load decreasing, and all feeders safely under their trip settings, we locked up the cubicles and gate, and I backed about 2 miles to the interstate, and returned to the shop.  The temperature that day was in the single digits, and wind in the teens.  The work resetting the over currents and operating the breakers was done without gloves, and that warm truck was very welcome.  We just made it to the shop at quitting time, and the shop foreman was surprised we had made it all the way to the substation, he assumed we would be walking from 270, in knee deep snow.  Fortunately, someone at the power company had convinced the state to make a special effort to get 28 open.

The drive home was much easier, just an hour or so, and my neighbors had dug a single lane in the court, including my driveway.  As I was preparing to enter the court, I realized there were many sled runner tracks, and blew my horn a couple of times to assure that I did not meet one on the way up the hill.

There was sledding, a bonfire, and hot chocolate again that night!