While semi-conscious on Saturday, I thought that I heard the forecaster say a warm up and rain on Sunday, starting in the afternoon. Rain and warm up did not sound like a recipe for disaster and I didn't think much of it. New plan: I had overtime coverage Sunday morning from 5:30-11:30 and then I would drive up to the Ashram to spend one night with everybody. I had no trouble getting to work. At my desk, with the radio on, I heard of a weather advisory and a chance of freezing rain. I touched base with Mom and Robert and they hadn't heard of any bad weather.
I left work and headed out. About a half hour in, Heather called and said it seemed a bit slick, so I should take it easy. The roads were clear through Northwood and I kept going. I got behind a sand truck before the Epsom traffic circle and the conditions weren't too bad. Conditions started to change in East Concord. As I got on Route 393, there were two flares and part of the guardrail had been taken out. As I approached the intersection with Route 93, there were six cars off the road, one police car and one car pointing east, not west. A road sign assistance/message board said that traffic was slow headed south, 13 minutes to Route 89 -- may be a 5 mile distance. Uh-oh. At this point, I wasn't sure what I should do. If I turned around, I had a long section of uphill road that was really slick. Would I make it? If I kept going, there was a chance that I could make it, just later than planned.
I got onto Route 93 and passed four cars off the road within the first mile. The road surface was icy. No salt or sand trucks on my side, all were headed south. A little fear crept in. In a caravan with four other cars, travelling between 27-34 miles per hour I continued north. Every now and then, a big SUV would come by and pass on the left. As I watched them fishtail in that lane, I realized that I was just fine in my little pod of cars. If I could have taken one of my hands off the wheel, I would have taken a picture of my dashboard showing my speed when I passed another road assistance/ message sign that flashed "SLOW DOWN! REDUCE SPEED TO 45! SLOW DOWN!"
No worries on that score. I started to relax when I got off the exit and negotiated the off ramp successfully. As I sat at the stop sign, an ambulance with flashing lights passed me going south. I pulled out after it, at a respectable distance. We passed underneath the highway and then at the entrance to the southbound on ramp, the ambulance turned and parked itself crosswise over both lanes and stopped. The driver got out and told me that Route 127 would be closed for a while because there were 10 cars or 10 accidents in the next section of road. I could try my luck going down Johnson Road, but he didn't know how that would be.
At this point, I had been on the road two hours and was less than 5 miles away. So close. Instead of sitting there, I gave Johnson Road a try. Upon reflection, I made the best decisions that I could at each step of the way. Had I stepped out of my car at that point, I would have realized that taking the right hand turn down Johnson Rd and not waiting for the sand/salt trucks and tow trucks to clear 127 was completely idiotic. Since I didn't have the actual feel of the ice under me, I went for the detour. My thought was if I could make it to Brook Road, I would be fine. I made it down the hill, alternating praying out loud and using all the colorful swear combinations that popped into my head. I hadn't remembered the steepness of the hill or the sudden, tight curves until it was too late and there was no way to reverse course. There was no place to pull over safely and I had to press on. I don't recall ever being so sure I was going to end in a ditch.
I made it to the bottom and merged onto the dirt Brook Road. I made it halfway up and no more. It was a sheet of ice and no dirt was visible. My car could not get any traction. As I was backing down the road, more like slipping sideways and trying not to overcompensate, and do a 360, I saw a car behind me. I managed to stop and motioned that they could pass me. The driver pulled along side and asked me if I would like him to see if he could get my car up. I said sure. I stepped out and just about fell flat on my tush. Was I wearing my good snow boots? No, just my in town, go to work, boots. The whole road was an unblemished sheet of ice. I handed him my keys. He couldn't get my car up the hill, but he did turn it around so that I could drive back down the hill and not be trying it backwards. He then followed me while I parked my car in some body's wide driveway at the junction of Hale, Morrison and Brook Road.
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| Taken this morning, with a sanded road clearly visible. |
I left a note on my dashboard, grabbed my purse and my overnight bag and got in his all-wheel drive car.
His name was Scott and we knew people in common. Have I ever gotten in a stranger's car before? It didn't matter, if he could take me closer to home, I would gratefully accept. He was my Good Samaritan number one. I borrowed his cell phone and told Robert where I was. He drove 3/4 up the big hill before he had to stop because a minivan had slid off the road going down the hill and he couldn't pass. As everybody stood in the road and debated what to do next, I got my bags, thanked Scott, and started walking. It was 25 degrees, raining, and miserable out. The only place I could get any footing was in the snowbank. Every time I traversed a driveway, I lost the softness of the snow and slid. It was tiring. I felt like the scene in Sound of Music when Julie Andrews is skipping down the lane with a bag in each hand, swinging away. Except I wasn't in Austria in the summer and I wasn't skipping or singing. But my bags were definitely swinging.
As I walked/slid/tried to stay upright at all costs I revisited every decision point and asked myself if I had made the right one. The one time I had new information and it would have been safe to turn around was 20 minutes in to my drive when I talked to Heather and she said it was getting slick. That was the point to turn around and call it a day. But none of us thought that slick would turn in to treacherous so quickly. Everybody was caught off guard. According to the paper today, the state ran out of available tow trucks and ambulances by mid-afternoon and all available salt/sand trucks were in use. But we didn't know that then. Anyway, then I wondered if I had been plain stubborn, thinking I could make it, despite all indications to the contrary. I don't often think of myself as stubborn, but if I am, I come by it honestly. Does self checkout from a hospital after experiencing heart attack symptoms sound familiar to anyone?
I continued on. Alternately ridiculing my decision making and just laughing at myself. Right before Prescott Road, Good Samaritan number two came by and offered me a ride. I told him that I was trying to get to the bottom of Brook Road. He said no problem. He went out of his way and drove me down Prescott Road and up Weeks Road to Todd's. I didn't really have a plan B if he wasn't home. Luckily, he was in.
It felt so good to get out of the rain for a minute. We called Mom and she said that Robert had just left to come get me. As Todd went to put on his jacket, I stood at the kitchen window and just happen to see Robert fly by on a sled.
"Todd, Robert's on a sled!"
"What?"
"ROBERT'S ON A SLED!!"
I couldn't believe it. Mom said he was on his way and thought he might have taken the Ashram truck or something. But I had told him not to drive because it was too dangerous so he wouldn't have taken a truck. I didn't image that I would see him sitting in a red toboggan, speeding down an ice covered, empty road. And yet, when I saw him next, there he was, carrying 3 ski poles and wearing a heavy backpack, his rain gear and dragging Selim's red sled, and smiling. He had packed for our survival -- extra ice spikes for my boots, water bottles, head lamps, and ski poles to help with balance. I didn't ask about snacks. As we were standing in the driveway, Jen drove up. She had made it from Concord. When she got to Route 127, it was open. If I had just waited...
Todd and Jen drove us up the paved part of Osgood Road. Having just sledded a mile down the road, Robert knew that trying to go up the dirt road was not smart.
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| Taken after the sand trucks arrived today |
We could see the sled marks that Robert had made on his way down the road. He had a wild ride. We got out when the road turned to dirt and parted ways with Todd and Jen. We put ice spikes on my shoes, my bags in the sled, and away we went for the last 1/2 mile or so on foot. Robert was having a great time. It was totally his thing -- a combination of science experiment, the natural elements, physical activity and service to others. Three and a half hours after leaving Dover, I made it to Mom's.
Next time I see 25 degrees and rain at the same time, I'll stay home.
On Monday this was the difference between a sanded and non-sanded road taken in 34 degree weather when we retrieved my car.
Great story! I can completely imagine it all. Especially Robert on the sled : )
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