Adorned with layers upon unsuitable summer layers, sleep came in spurts, interrupted by biting cold. My feet, despite double socks, were slowly becoming icicles, itching to become one with the falling snow.
We left a cold Johannesburg for supposedly warm KZN. In hindsight, the sky, but especially the unusual swirling clouds, were a sure sign of changing weather patterns. Amidst increasingly strong winds, raindrops came rippling down in Harrismith. The temperature plummeted. Earlier on, when calling a friend to convey birthday greetings, we learnt that part of the N3 was closed due to an accident. We continually checked the news and google maps. All indications were that the N3 was the best option. We motored on.
We zoned into casual conversation with classic folk music, starting with acoustic Neil Young in the background. Soon, we noticed specks of white on grass. Excitement bounced off the windows. Pictures were snapped. And snapped. The child will always be in us. We drove slowly down Van Reenan’s pass. I commented that we must plan for a winter snow holiday someday. Famous last words.
The roads were wet. Passing the toll road, the falling snow continued. Traffic was slower with the odd small bumper bashing. I half-heartedly mentioned that we should stay over in Escourt. Stop, Start. Stop. Start. About 10kms from the Mooi River toll road, we ground to a halt. Moments earlier I had worryingly noticed a few cars ahead sliding. Driving on was much too dangerous. Stopping was inevitable and necessary. The snow kept falling. And falling. Unrelenting.
One
IN a million chance to be caught
IN a snow storm
IN late September
IN South Africa enroute to the warmest coastal part of the country.
It was past 7pm. Darkness enveloped and the growing whiteness spread, deepened. Nothing was spared. Cars, trucks, fields, fences, anything and everything that could collect snowflakes were covered. Even huge truck tyres were not spared. Car engines ran for a while. We all thought that this stop too was temporary. The snow kept falling. Engines finally stopped and passengers huddled.
The dark silent night came upon us, with relentless, almost horizontal falling snow flakes. This scene together with snaking stationary vehicles was surreal if not Kafkaesque. We all knew, in our hearts, that we were not going anywhere, anytime soon. Our minds, though, questioned, called, googled… searched for eternal hope. Dissonance. Then. Acceptance.
Acceptance led to preparation. A quick mental check – Food. Check. Water. Check. Warmish clothes. Eish. Sort of. Check. We layered with the ‘warmest’ summer clothes we had. We ate little, drank just to stay hydrated. Fear of bathroom breaks unspoken.
Picture in front of the car
Creativity knew no bounds especially to keep warm with only summer clothes. A cycling buff to keep the face, especially nose, warm. A cap to keep the head warm and reduce temperature loss. Layers of clothes to retain body heat. Double socks. Plastic bags to keep our shoes dry every time nature called or snow needed to be cleared off the car or legs needed some stretching or just to talk to neighbours.
Backward picture from the car
We sang, to keep our spirits up. Simon and Garfunkel, Abba, eish, even legendary Zane Adams. Remember him. Every little while, I started the ignition. A little heat. Confidence that the car actually starts. Unusual circumstances play with your mind. Doubt. And, the cold takes any victims, cars too. Often, one had to clear snow off the car. Fear of being entombed as snow turns to ice. Shew, it was cold like sleeping in a fridge.
We were in this together with others so it was easy to reach out. “Are you okay?”. “Do you need anything?”. “How are the kids, grandma, the dogs?”. “Keep snow off the car”. “Hydrate often”. “Have you heard anything?”. “When will they open the roads?”. “Damn, you have no connection too. Cell tower must have succumbed “. We talked to unknown, now known neighbours, each with their own back story and current interrupted travelling plans – motorists, truck drivers, passengers. A community was created spreading proverbial warmth. We were in it together.
Memorable moments to cherish as we befriended neighboring drivers and passengers. Most likely never to meet again. I noticed no anger, anxiety yes. A calm acceptance. Friendliness, compassion and empathy. An experience not possible without the ‘one in a million’. Families – mums-dads-kids-dogs-aunts-uncles-grannies, had much more to endure. Cramped in small vehicles. Single truck drivers had more space but no companionship. Pride had no place, as bee lines to relieve empty bladders needed to happen. Thankfully, visibility was poor.
In the morning, with no cell phone connection and very poor radio coverage “authorities are working on opening the roads” increased the anxiety. We were later to find out the intense worries of family and friends who could not contact us. We mentally prepared ourselves for another night.
Kids, cooped up in cars, were finally given freedom to check things out. “Wherever it is yellow do not touch”. Snow fights and snow persons were attempted. One kid , not older than 5, carried his snow bounty in his jacket, smiling from ear to ear. Another kept on ‘dusting ‘ snow caught in his summer sandal, as he launched another snowball. Childhood memories implanted.
Suddenly with no fore warning, knights in shining armour arrived. The Al-Imdaad Foundation volunteers arrived handing out energy drinks, bottled water, sandwiches and hot coffee. These were eagerly devoured as the cold jumped another notch. -1% overnight felt at least like 10 degrees lower. Later, transport officials and farmers with their tractors and other snow plough vehicles started clearing the roads on the opposite side. We watched, hopeful that our turn would come soon. Efficiently they cleared the portion on the other side of the highway. Vehicles started moving. Some were towed. We were still stuck but we knew that snow was being cleared way in front of us. Our time will come.
I dozed, suddenly to be awoken. Around 14h:30, almost 20 hours later we started moving. Freedom beckoned as we drove slowly with landscapes of snow on either side of the road. As I gently braked, a mound of snow raced off the roof onto my windscreen causing mild panic. Motorists stopped making sure we were okay, before moving on. My trusty umbrella helped clear the snow off my windscreen.
Tractors were still busy on both sides but drivers patiently navigated until suddenly as if from a dream, green grass and the familiar KZN landscape sailed by. We were out.
It was a beautiful and memorable experience – unrelenting snow, unbelievable silence of the night, piercing cold and amazing camaraderie. There was little risk to those in our vicinity who ably navigated the unusual circumstances. It will rank as the coldest night ever for some of us.
20th September 2024 (before)
27th September 2024 (after)
