Travelling around southern Manitoba in mid-May in white-out conditions
was a lesson in prairie preparedness.
I failed. I left the Sorrels at home and an umbrella would have become
a windsock within seconds in the gusting winds and wet heavy snow.
The rental car had no scraper and its block heater cord was safely
tucked under the hood for the summer. After all, it was May and flowers
should be more prominent than snow.
That day, Manitoba grid roads seemed to have more mud than gravel.
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Visions of the ever-faithful, over-sized Dodge Durango in the Saskatoon
office teased me as I tried to drive the toy of a car forward and
backward. I only succeeded in sliding further sideways into the ditch.
An interview two miles away hurried me to action. Blinking snow from my
eyes, I walked back to the nearest farm house seeking help, knowing tow
trucks are no match for a really big farm machine.
I salivated at the sight of my saviour, a farm tractor in the yard,
then noticed the harrows attached behind it. I knew it meant some wet
and mucky work for the farmer before I could be saved.
Hair stuck to my head, two pounds of Manitoba mud glued to each rubber
shoe, I knocked on the farm house door. He was expecting me.
“We don’t use that road in the rain,” was the first comment.
Minutes later, harrows unhooked, tractor in place, the farmer was down
on his coveralled knees, ear to the mud, seeking something to hook to
his mammoth tractor. The car was rescued and I was saved.
One day and a lot of snow later, I carried on, dead centre on the
grids, my only apparent challenge a Border collie that decided the car
needed to be herded to the safety of paved highways and shoulders
separating me from slick ditches.
Prairie preparedness, or lack thereof, reared its ugly head once more.
Power outages that were commonplace throughout the district from the
heavy, wet snow meant gas stations were either closed or unable to
power their pumps to get the gas out of the ground.
So, that meant another visit to another farm to beg for gas.
Neither farmer was likely impressed with my precarious plight but both
were willing to help. You never know what to expect on the Prairies,
but at least you can always count on the kindness of farmers out there
in a snowstorm in the middle of May.
