by N.J. Bishop

MY NARROWEST ESCAPE

Alameda, Sask (1919)

 

.....In spite of the terrifying experience I am going to tell about, one of my pleasantest memories is of the winter I spent in Saskatchewan, teaching in a small rural school with eleven pupils. It was a delightful school and community, but as farms are large there and the school in the middle of the district, I lived two and one half miles from the school. This made it necessary to drive. For this, the two Stephenson girls and I used a typical western bronco, tough and stubborn, named Biddy. As other children drove or rode horseback, there was a barn in the school yard for stabling the horses in the winter.

 

.....It had been a long, cold winter with a great deal of snow. The first deep snow had come on October thirtieth, in time to spoil our Hallowe'en party, and had stayed on, getting deeper and deeper with each storm.

 

.....Now it was a Monday morning in mid‑March and snowing again but with a difference. The flakes were large and fluffy, not like the usual small dry flakes of the West. As we were getting packed in the cutter, I was joking with the others about its being 'real snow" like we had in Nova Scotia. Then, as we waved good-bye, one of the girls called, If we don't come back we'll write.

 

.....The snow was thick, and the wind was beginning to blow, so there were only six pupils that day ‑ the two girls with me, two brothers who were near enough to walk, and our two small MacKenzies from Ontario who were spending the winter in the West. They usually traveled to and from school with us in the sleigh, although their house was near enough to be seen from the school.

 

.....By recess time the storm had become a real blizzard. The temperature had dropped greatly, with the result that the snow was now finer like sand, filling the air and piling up in deep drifts. We decided we would go home at noontime if the storm had not abated.

 

.....When noon came, the blizzard was so much worse that we could not see  the  cutter sitting a few feet From the door‑step. We ate our lunch, as the boys who had to walk felt the need of food, before starting out. Then we placed our things in the cutter put in cushions and rugs, which were kept warm by the stove, and went to the barn For Biddy. But wise old Biddy had other ideas! No amount of coaxing, pushing, pulling, or slapping would get her out of that barn. We were extremely annoyed at Biddy, but you will see later that it was most fortunate  for  us that she knew her own mind so well. There was nothing else to do then but to stay where we were. This did not worry us very much, as the men often came to break roads and accompany us home when the weather was stormy or extremely cold. After some discussion, we persuaded the Weidemar brothers that they had better stay with us and not

attempt the walk home.

 

.....You will have realized by this time that we had no telephone at the school, so we could not communicate with our homes, but I was very much surprised and quite anxious when no one came by dismissal time. We made another attempt to get Biddy, but she was still adamant, so we watched and waited anxiously, and wondered as time went on, because we just knew that some one would come.

 

.....I never knew just what the children thought, or how much of the danger they realized, but for my part, I knew that Mr. MacKenzie and Mr. Stephenson would have started. Why hadn't they come? Had they started and become lost? What worrying thoughts, while all the time the wind howled, and the snow drifted, beyond one's imagination. Added to that, the darkness began to fall very early and the children began to complain of hunger.

 

.....As it grew darker, we had to face the fact that we were there for the night. That meant we would have to get enough fuel to last through. We had no lamps, so the stove would have to supply both heat and light.

 

.....Getting the coal was no easy matter, as the coal shed was at the rear of the main room. To reach it one must go out the front door and around the east side of the building. The Weidemar boys and I attempted this. It was breath taking to go out, but when we came back with our scuttles of coal, as we turned the corner of the building toward the door we were facing north, and directly into the gale. By the time we had reached the steps, we were completely breathless, and had to kneel face downward to get our breath before we could climb the steps. We had to make several such exhausting trips, each time emptying the coal on the porch floor.

 

.....When we had coal enough, we had to brace the doors with a coal shovel driven into the floor and some extra seats. I did not have a key as school houses on the prairie are never locked. We then put the rugs and cushions from the cutter on the floor to serve as a bed.

 

.....For awhile we talked and told stories, but as time dragged on our little girl went to sleep in my arms and was laid on a seat. The other children were then persuaded to lie down, Indian fashion, and try to sleep. I made no attempt to sleep as the fire had to be watched, and responsibility lay heavily.

 

.....The children slept fairly well considering their hunger and fear, except Harold, who was always a standby. He tried so hard to sleep, and would remain perfectly motionless until I moved. Then he would say, "Miss Mac, (their special name for their Nova Scotia teacher) can't you sleep at all?' or "What time is it now, please?" Occasionally he would get up quietly, and come to sit beside me for a few minutes giving and receiving comfort from the nearness. How I appreciated that boy!

 

.....The fire had to be tended often and carefully. With such a terrific wind the stove burned very freely, which might result in overheating and a fire in the chimney.

 

.....The night seemed endless, but dawn came at last. The storm and wind had ceased, but it was still very cold. The children wakened almost as soon as it was light, uncomfortable, frightened, and hungry, and began wondering how long we would have to wait for some one to come.

 

.....I had watched anxiously up the trail since daybreak, and soon thought I saw activity at the MacKenzies, but I did not tell the children this when they awoke. Some time later, I saw the team cross the trail and disappear. Then I told the children, and what eyestraining to catch a glimpse of the team! They really began to think I had been mistaken, but finally it came in sight, nearer, but away off the trail. We found the reason for this later. There were frequent stops and much shoveling until they were near the gate. There came the longest stop, where a huge drift, absolutely impassible, completely blocked the road. Had we been able to get Biddy started, we would have perished in that drift.

 

.....The men were near enough then for us to recognize Mr. Stephenson and Mr. Mackenzie, and we waited impatiently and with various emotions for them to reach the door. At that moment, the little girl ran into her daddy's arms crying; Gertrude asked her father if he brought anything to eat; and after a few minutes, Harold asked Mr. Stephenson if he had been talking to his mother.

 

.....The men's eyes were filled with tears of strain and relief to find us safe, as they both had started for the school the day before and had been forced back by the storm.

 

.....Quickly they got Biddy from the barn, and we were off for home by the roundabout track they had made on the way down, skirting the drifts to avoid time‑consuming shoveling. It was about half past nine when we reached home and a royal welcome. The first thing was to telephone Mrs. Weidemar that her boys were safe. Then the children ate a hearty breakfast, but my appetite was completely lacking.

 

.....I was frequently reminded that my being a Nova Scotia girl had added greatly to the worries during that night. They thought, of course, I would not know what to do in a western blizzard. Be that as it may, I was truly thankful that I had escaped death in a prairie blizzard. There were some not so Fortunate that night of the worst storm in thirty years.