CAUGHT IN A BLIZZARD by J. Josiah Munro

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Mar 19, 1894

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 20, No. 20.

CAUGHT IN A BLIZZARD.

By J. Josiah Munro

A Story of Southern Minnesota.

BY J. JOSIAH MUNRO.

LESS than a score of years ago I left my home in the East and settled in Southwestern Minnesota, not far from the Iowa State line, and about the same distance from what was then known as Dakota Territory. In those days the country was new and sparsely settled, and nearly all of the surrounding region savored of wild frontier life.

In my Eastern home I had heard and read many fanciful stories of Western life. I knew that whatever I heard or read of the Indians I could believe or disbelieve at will. Stories of grasshoppers coming down in clouds upon the plains and eating grass and grain of every description down to the roots, I found to be substantially correct. Indeed, farmers and ranchmen on a visit to their Eastern homes told just such experiences, and nobody doubted them for a moment.

But I refused positively to take much stock in most of the stories that were told of Minnesota blizzards. In fact, I told my friends in the East on many occasions that I would rather wait and see a blizzard for myself before I believed all that was said of them.

But, although I had so often discounted these "blizzard yarns," and put little credence in them, I had not been long on the frontier before I was convinced that a wild blizzard was something to be greatly dreaded. What convinced me most of all was I had met several persons who had nearly lost their lives on the prairie during such storms, and they had always a bitter experience to tell.

On the train two hundred miles northwest of Chicago I met an old settler who told me that where he lived he was compelled to connect his house and barn in wintertime with a rope or thick cord, so as to be able to do his chores during a blizzard. A genuine "nor'wester," as the frontiersman called the worst blizzard, lasts all the way from two to five days. And cases have been told the writer by men of veracity of persons whom they knew who had lost their lives trying to go from their house to the barn—not more than ten rods away. There was no rope, of course, to guide them, and, having lost their reckoning, they wandered all over and finally perished in the snow.

A neighbor of mine, a Vermonter, told me his experience after he had battled with the elements for three days. I pitied his unfortunate condition, for he was a sad picture to look upon. Sam Johnson started from his home on a beautiful November day for Dell Rapids, less than twenty miles away. It was all prairie in those days, with only a "dug-out" or "sod house" every few miles. He had with him a team of oxen and a common lumber wagon, and took a load of grist to the mill. He was not able to start for home till late in the afternoon, but did not mind that, as his oxen were steady and he had trained them to trot moderately when necessary. After he left Dell Rapids it began to snow; then the wind began to blow furiously. If he had turned back to the Rapids, he would have been all right, but he battled against the storm for two or three hours. It was in vain. The fates seemed to be against him. In a little while he became exhausted, and, after wandering to and fro on the dark prairie, driven hard by the furious elements, he gave up the fight. When he found that he could do nothing more, he loosed the oxen and let them go whither they would. Then, with the remaining strength he possessed, he turned over the wagon box on the ground and lay under it. In a short time the snow piled over him all the way from fifteen to twenty feet.

In this condition he remained from Tuesday night till Thursday about noon, when the wind went down and the sun shone out upon the prairie. This was a long time to remain buried in a snow pile; such an experience would have killed most men, but this man came out alive. It must be said, however, that Johnson did not know how bad off he really was till he began to resurrect himself from his snow-clad sepulcher; then he discovered that his body was frozen in several places. Neighbors by this time had gone out in search of him and carried him home.

When a physician was called in, it was found that the time he spent in the snow pile proved to be a sad experience. His right leg had to be amputated at the knee. Two or three toes of the other foot, several fingers, parts of both ears, and parts of his nose and face were frozen. These parts had to be taken away to save his life. He was under medical treatment many months. When he left the house, he was sadly disfigured. During his recovery his life had been despaired of several times, and he doubtless would have died had he not been one of the toughest of mortals. This man I personally knew, and after I heard his experience, my blizzard skepticism vanished. After the winter had fully set in that year, I watched several "juvenile blizzards" from my window, but did not care to be out in any at the time.

In the following January I received information that I must go to the next town, ten miles west, on important business. If I remember correctly, it was the 27th day of the month—a cold, raw day, with shifting winds and strong indications of an approaching storm. Several days before the snow had fallen deep, and now the roads were impassable for man and beast. But I must go to Barnum Creek, although my friends advised me to the contrary. I knew I could not go by rail, as the railroad was blocked for thirty miles on each side on from Worthington to Sioux Falls. As I was not able to pay ten dollars for a team, I concluded, after I carefully considered the matter, to go on foot and take my chances. I said to myself that if it did storm it could not hurt me very much, as the distance was only ten miles. I did not leave home till late in the forenoon. My course was to follow the railroad track, which I did till I came to the "cuts," which I found packed hard with snow like sugar in a barrel—so hard that I could walk over them and make not the least impression.

Soon after I had started on my journey, prepared to battle with the elements, the snow began to fly thick and fast. The howling wind increased in velocity, but I felt no danger as long as I could see the telegraph poles, which showed me that I was still on the railroad track or near to it. It occurred to me several times after leaving home that I might possibly meet a blizzard on the way, and thus have my plans frustrated, but I hastened on, not caring to think of such a misfortune as befell Sam Johnson, the Vermonter.

As I pressed on, I found that the storm increased in severity, and the more I hastened, the more I found the elements to be against me. Indeed, the intense cold and the fierce blast took such a hold of me as I moved on against it that I soon felt exhausted. Nor had I gone very many miles on my journey before it dawned upon me that I was then experiencing a blizzard—a wild Minnesota blizzard, one of the worst in many years.

I ought to explain to my readers that the distinguishing peculiarity of a blizzard from a common snowstorm is that in a blizzard the fierce wind takes up the snow in mid air and converts it into small particles of frozen ice, all the way in size from a pin head to a kernel of rice. Then the storm dashes these minute particles of ice on the face of the traveler till it is made to sting. And those who are so unfortunate as to be out at such a time

are soon blinded, then exhausted, and finally compelled to succumb.

But what could I do at such a time? I was several miles from home, and not in sight of any habitation where I could seek a shelter. I carefully considered my condition, and came to the conclusion that my best hope was in pressing on against the blizzard, at the same time keeping my eye on the telegraph poles to guide me. And even this was a most difficult task. In a short time I found pressing against the fierce blast exceedingly hard work, so much so that soon I became completely exhausted. Walking on any further was out of the question. I stood for a moment with my back to the storm to rest; then I sank in the snow helpless. I found I could not go on any further, no matter what came. I felt the cold intensely. My teeth chattered and I shivered continuously. My mustache and eyebrows were covered with ice. My muffler became fastened to my mouth with ice tangles. I tried to separate the two but failed. My fingers were benumbed. My legs and arms began to stiffen. I never had experienced such a storm in all my life. The wind howled furiously around me, and the wild blast seemed to increase every moment. I did not know what to do. I was physically exhausted, and felt that I could not go on much further.

For a moment I felt that I was lost, and did not know what way to go or turn. The snow flew around me in clouds, so that I could not see an object an arm's length away. My chief hope all along had been, if I could only keep going on in my journey, with my eyes fixed on the telegraph poles, I would before long reach my destination in safety. But I could see no poles now, and the storm was increasing in wild intensity.

In this condition of body and mind I arose to my feet and tried to see if the storm had abated any, but I saw no change. The blizzard seemed to be at its worst. Then I sank exhausted a second time beside some brush only a few feet from the track. I tried to keep the cold out by wrapping my heavy ulster tightly around me, but I felt it had no more power to keep out the blast than a linen duster.

While in this condition, huddled on the ground, a peculiar sensation came over me. It was a soothing feeling, that craved for rest and perhaps sleep. I knew what such a feeling meant, and did not give way to it for a moment, nor did I even consider the matter a second time. How long I remained in this state I cannot tell. But I knew well enough that if I stayed much longer in that place I must succumb and die. Then it occurred to me that this would be a good time to pray. I was in great need, and nothing less than divine help could avail at that time. I cried silently and alone to God in my distress. My prayer was intense; it seemed to have taken hold of him, for I meant every word of what I said. In a moment I had relief. I felt encouraged and strengthened in my heart.

I arose to my feet. Something within said, "Go on!" I raised the cap that covered my head and eyes, that once more, if possible, I might get the "lay of the land." I saw a snow fence about thirty feet away, the first object I had seen in several hours. I looked again and saw a telegraph pole. Then I saw a rift in the clouds, as if the storm was trying hard to break away. Before I sank in the snow everything looked dark and dismal. But now the outward prospect was encouraging. I hastened on my journey, using the break in the clouds to the best advantage. I must have gone on about two miles to a place where the railroad crosses the highway. By this time the blizzard became as wild and furious as ever, but it ceased again for a moment; then I saw about a mile away to my right a farmhouse. It was getting dark, but I made for the house with all speed. Of

course I could not see the house, but I traveled in the direction of it, raising my head every little while and looking toward the house, then closing my eyes and lowering my face to save it from the pelting ice. I could see then that it stormed as furiously as ever, but my belief was strong that I would reach that settlement before night set in.

After some hard work I reached the farmhouse, completely exhausted. I was nearly frozen; my body was chilled through, and my legs were like lumps of lead. I told my experience to the inmates of the house, who were plain people from New York State. They knew all about the blizzards, as they had been several winters on the plains, and came near freezing to death several times. They told me after they had heard my story that my deliverance from death was miraculous. Nor shall I ever forget that chilling experience while I live, and Him who heard my prayer on the bleak prairie when I sank, ready to perish, in one of the worst blizzards that ever a human being encountered.—The Voice.