Blizzard 2006

Well, this is my tale of trying to get home from Philadelphia, starting the day before the big blizzard hit the Front Range on December 20th,2006.

I was on a business trip to Philadelphia on Monday and Tuesday, December 18th and 19th. My flight back to Denver was supposed to leave at 7 pm, with one stopover in Houston, arriving in Denver at 12:30 am. It would have been a last night for me, but I wanted to be home Tuesday night, rather than staying and catching a direct flight to Denver on Wednesday morning.

I went to the airport, and found that my flight was delayed. The flight was about an hour late getting in. My stopover in Houston was about an hour, so I figured I just might make it in time.

Well I was wrong. And the Houston Airport (George H Bush International) pretty much shuts down after 10 pm. After much scrambling and searching I found a US Airways agent who told me that I would have to stay the night and get out on an early flight. So I stayed at the Airport Mariott. It was hot and humid in Houston. Even though I never left the airport, it felt so awkward, since I was dressed for the relatively mild winter of Colorado with a heavy leather jacket and a hat.

In the morning I got onto a 7:30 am flight to Denver - thank goodness! It was almost Christmas and I was missing Heather, Sean, and Finn. The flight was nice, though as the plane descended into Denver, the plane was enveloped in a cloud. I and the kids next to me noticed snow blowing over the wings in fine lines. We could not tell if wee were up 50 feet or 5000, when suddenly the plane touched down onto a snowy runway. The wind was blowing and snow was everywhere.

I had no idea that this was a major storm, and just enjoyed the pretty tornadoes of snow slowing around, and knowing that I was finally home, I relaxed and strolled through the airport. I had been working on a proposal the day before, and since the airport had wireless, decided to just sit in a lounge to finish up my work and send it off. So I did that, all the while noticing the snow blowing outside. After about 40 minutes I had finished my work and decided that I should get out to my car, which was parked in the East Lot, just about 1/4 mile from the terminal. A short walk, and a shorter shuttle ride. When I got outside to theh shuttle stop, I began to realize that this was no ordinary storm. The shuttle dropped me off in the lot near where I thought my car was.

Now when I go to the airport, I park in the same general area every time, but do not pay too much attention to exactly where. I enjoy trying to find the car, and it gives me a chance to stretch my legs after a long flight and see the rabbits that are usually eating grass nearby.

No rabbits this day. Instead, I was dropped off in probably 6-12 inched of snow. That leather jacket that seemed so heave in Houston sure seemed light now. And my plain hard-soled shoes and wimpy black socks were next to useless. Good thing I had a hat, which I pulled down tight so that it would not blow off my head. Just as I was questioning my stupid habit of not paying attention to where my was was, and as I was anticipating getting frostbitten toes in my search for the car, a snow plow pulled up and the guy offered me a ride to my car. Thank goodness!

The car was many rows from where I thought it would be, and I was truly grateful for the lift. My first thought was that I hoped the car would be able to make it out of the parking space where it was being slowly buried. I scraped the snow off of the windshield and started up the car. This is a 1993 Honda Civic with front-wheel drive. It's a reliable car, but no powerhouse, and not the first choice for driving in snow. But the mighty car made it over the hump left by the snowplow and I was soon at the exit gate, thrilled to be on my way. Only 44 miles to home, a trip than generally takes less than an hour.

The parking attendant got out of the booth to scrape the snow off my back bumper so that the security camera cold read my license plate. Then I started out onto Pena Boulevard, the road that runs for about 12 miles from the airport to Interstate 70. The road was a parking lot. Three lanes of cars were leaving the airport all at once, and traffic was crawling along. Very odd, I had never seen it like that before, and wondered just how many people could be leaving the airport all at once.

At some point the road opened up and cars could drive faster, but the roads were icy, snow clouds were blowing, and it was just not prudent to go more than 40 mph. This did not stop some lunatics from zoomng by, however. After 12 miles the airport road hit I70, and I hit bumper to bumper traffic again.

Now I70 is a major artery for US commerce, the only route across the Rocky Mountains. The only other way across (except for local highways, of course) are on I80 through Wyoming, and I40 through New Mexico. Today this route was clogged with cars and trucks desperately trying to go somewhere. I tried to find the lane with the most traffic - this tended to beat down the snow. Other, less used lanes were quickly filled with snow, and every so often there would be a car stuck out there. I even saw big rigs helplessly spinning out in the empty, but snowbound lanes.

So, this also meant that I needed to pick a road and stay on it as much a possible. Any attempt to leave the interstate was risky, as exit ramps had huge drifts on them.

I chose to take I-70 to I-25, even though I usually take 270, which gets me to Boulder quicker. I just did not know whether 270 had enough traffic to make a passable road for the poor Honda.

It is about 3 miles from the entry of I-25 to Highway 36, aka the Boulder Turnpike. But I stood in traffic for over two hours, just crawling along trying to get onto the Turnpike.

Meanwhile, I had been scanning radio stations trying to get some news. It was pretty bleak. I finally found an AM station that would mention a few things about the weather every 30 minutes or so. Mostly they talked about how bad it was, but rarely mentioned the specific roads in Denver. As I was finally getting to the 36 exit, however, they mentioned that the Turnpike was closed due to truck collisions. (With subsequent snow storms, I learned that 36 is a pretty wimpy road, and often closed whenever weather occurs.)

So I aborted my run for 36, and continued up I25 toward Wyoming. This part of the trip became surreal. One minute I would be in heavy traffic, trying to stay behind large trucks in hopes they would clear a good path, and the next I would be all alone, on an empty road with nothing but blowing snow. At one point the other lane was completely filled with car and trucks stopped dead.

I wanted to exit in Longmont and make my way back to Boulder from the north on reliable roads. But it became hard to even read the exit signs, and in the snow every exist began to look the same. The radio announced that I25 in fact was closed. I was on a dead interstate.

Finally I got to the exit for Longmont, pulled up my courage, and slammed through the drifts to the exit. And I made it. In Longmont, things did not look as bad. Plows were on the road, and there were numerous cars. Yet the wind has really picked up by then. I stopped the car at one point to take a movie with my phone of the power lines whipping back and forth, making a singing sound. But the wind was too fierce, and I gave up.

And so, through Longmont, down the Diagonal (Hwy 119), to our neighborhood. Right as I turn onto Kincross drive, the car slides into a snow bank and I was stuck. Fortunately a neighbor in a Jeep drove by, offered a tow, and pulled me out. Just 1/4 mile to go! I turned onto Kirkwood, and then finally ground to a halt right outside the house. It was a u-turn up a hill, and the Honda just could not do it. Fortunately, some neighbors who were out shovelling came to help, and Heather came out too. Together we got the Honda into the driveway and that was that - home at last!

To be continued... that one-hour trip turned into 6 hours!

The Boys

Finn just had a terrible rash on his butt. I gave him pineapple from a pizza, and that started it. Heather would never do such a thing, but I tend to feed kids things they ought not have. We all paid for that mistake. Finn would not sleep, and cried much of the night. It took a few days for the rash to go. Lesson learned.

Sean and I went to the YMCA yesterday, and signed up for a family membership. We got some basket balls and played on the court a while. He really loved it. He can almost dribble, getting better at it. Likes to throw and catch the ball all by himself. I just make ridiculous throws and rebounds and make up drills half-remembered from high school. I look like a fool no doubt, but it is really a good workout.

Sean and I have also been sledding alot recently on the hill near the elementary school in our neighborhood. He has very little fear, even though he slides on a saucer which often spins around as he whips down the hill. He's only fallen a few times, and has not let that stop him.

The last time we went sledding I noticed a hole in the snow, about the diameter of a hand. It was a prairie dog hole. I guess the big fat dogs finally got hungry enough to dig through the snow. I also noticed little bits of blood near the hole. I guess the red-tail hawks were hungry too. It's not a good idea to be the first prairie dog out after a snow!

Finn is crawling very fast these days, and this morning he went upstairs by himself. He had a poop, and we think he may have gone up to have his diaper changed. He is a very determined child!

It's January 3rd and the snow from just before Christmas is still thick on the ground. Large icicles hang from the house, and drip ice-puddles in the driveway. Our heating bill will likely be high this month, but it's nice to be warm and at home this time of year.