1977 Flashbacks Out Our Front Door

Ontarians are no strangers to snowstorms. But there was a moment yesterday morning when the amount of snow coming down gave me deja vu about the blizzard of 1977. That’s a storm that people my age talk about with misty-eyed nostalgia.

Yesterday morning’s view from the front door in Port Stanley.

In ’77, the snowfall was relentless. The storm lasted from January 28 until February first. You didn’t dare let your dog out to pee without bundling up and going with him or tying him to a rope because visibility was nil.

We lived in the country, several kms south of Smithville, Ontario on a road that – I believe – is still gravel. There was mail delivery and garbage pickup but not much else in the way of municipal services. Electricity, of course. For water, we had a cistern and bought trucked-in H20. Septic tank. It wasn’t nearly as rustic as it sounds but it was definitely country living.

Neighbours Helping Neighbours

My brother Kevin was 13 at the time. He remembers the beginning of the ’77 storm. He and our Dad white-knuckle-drove into Smithville to get groceries.

“We took the station wagon. Mom didn’t want us to go so we pacified her by taking snowmobile suits. When we were coming home, we couldn’t get down the usual road by the vet clinic, so we decided to try the other side of town. We got stuck. So, we put all our winter gear on to start walking home. Then we could hear an ambulance siren but we couldn’t even tell which way it was coming from. The snow was blowing so hard, we couldn’t even see to walk.

Finally, the ambulance creeps up on us and we talk to the driver. He can barely find the road, he’s weaving around snow drifts. The patient was a bus driver. He had gotten the bus stuck in a snow drift. A plow came along. The plow driver told the bus driver, ‘I’ll turn around and pull you out.’ In the meantime, the bus driver gets the bus out and starts driving and crashes head on into the plow. The bus driver flies through the windshield and hits his face on the snow plow. He had eye injuries, the glass went into his eye and stuff, he was bandaged up like a mummy, it was all covered in blood and he’s moaning.

It was the first real injury I’d ever seen. So, Dad says, ‘I’ll walk in front of you guys so you don’t drive off in the ditch because that would be a disaster.’ So, I stayed in the ambulance. Dad walked in front all the way back into town, helping it find its way.

After we left the ambulance, someone gave us a ride back to our car and then we walked home. We found cars on the way where you could only see a bit of the roof. I remember the first car we found. I wouldn’t look in it. We were up above it. There was an opening in the snow, not big enough for a body to fit down in, but a hole down to the one window. And Dad says, ‘Have a look and see if there’s anyone in there.’ And I couldn’t, from watching too many horror movies or something, I just pictured someone frozen to death and I couldn’t do it.

We walked across a few fields because the fields were bare. In some places, there was ten feet of snow on the roads. We didn’t get home until after dark.”

Dad checked all the cars they passed. They didn’t find anyone. With no cellphones or any other way to phone home, I have a vague memory of our Mom being very worried.

Later, Back at Home

We all hunkered down for days because even once the storm passed, the roads were clogged with snow. A huge swath of New York state and southern Ontario were affected. Rural routes and country driveways fell down the priority list when those in town had to be dug out as well.

Our Dad had bought us snowshoes years before. They were traditionally made, from wood and hide, and they hung on the basement wall. We tied those giant snow flotation devices to our snowboots and lumbered for a km or two to reach our area’s convenience store. They kept us from falling into the deep snow.

A grumpy old man ran Winslow store. He was the originator of surge pricing. Having a hot day? Popsicles now cost double. We loaded up on – if memory serves – baked beans and whatever soup he had left, and snowshoed back home.

Somewhere, we have photos of snowbanks up to the hydro wires. I remember tobogganing down those hills and reaching up to touch the wires at the top.

Snow Day After Snow Day After Snow Day

I don’t know how many days we waited to be freed, playing every board game and card game we knew. Our wood fireplace definitely got a workout. But I do remember the evening everything changed. There was a slow, building rumble that shook our house. Everything in Mom’s china cabinet rattled and clinked. Huge bulldozers were on the move to clear the road and let us get back to school. (BOO!) It was cold, slow work but they got us out and life returned to normal.

So, why did it happen? What fuelled this incredible storm, the likes of which we’ve not seen since? Lake Erie froze over that year. Add strong winds over the lake and you’ve got the perfect recipe. We’d already had a snowy winter before the blizzard even began with three times a winter’s worth falling in a month.

“Environment Canada climatologist Dave Phillips described it as a “weather bomb … the granddaddy of them all,” something that usually only happens over oceans.” Hamilton Spectator

Thousands of people were trapped in schools, at other peoples’ homes, wherever they were when the “weather bomb” hit. Many froze to death in their cars. Home together, as a family, we were safe. After that, we had those massive snowbanks to slide down and play on. And it’s a hell of a thing to look back on.