New Year’s storm of 1949
Every decade or so Mother Nature throws a savage storm at us that we remember forever. On New Year’s Eve, the last evening of 1948, a snow storm blew into this area. Like many serious storms it came faster and stronger than expected. By 10 p.m.
all roads were impassible. On the morning of Jan. 1 people awoke to find the winds stronger than ever, a couple of feet of fresh snow and six-to-eight-foot drifts everywhere. In Creemore, private garages were practically covered. On Mill Street, south of Caroline Street, there were three-foot drifts on the west sidewalk and the street itself had drifts four to five feet high.
On New Year’s Eve people were arriving on the late CNR train at New Lowell, the most convenient train from Toronto. The train was late. Those driving them back to Creemore got bogged down near Doug Macham’s (Coffey House) where they found refuge. Harvey Taylor of Dunedin, the county snow plough operator, had phone calls from frantic people. Although he had retired for the night, he got up and opened County Road 9. At 3 a.m. the visitors reached Creemore.
Twenty Stayner hockey players, who had come to Creemore to practise, got stalled on the hill north of Cashtown and spent the night in Cashtown School. On other roads people made their way to farmhouses. In Collingwood, New Year’s Eve revellers at the Temple (dance hall) had to walk home. No cars could make it on Collingwood streets. The storm, however, was good news for Blue Mountain, where the ski industry was just getting started. The first ‘ski train’ had arrived from Toronto, bringing ski enthusiasts to Craigleith station.
As usual, Osprey Township received the brunt of stronger winds and colder temperatures. The municipal election scheduled for Jan. 3 had to be put off for several days and schools were a day late in opening.
Little was done on New Year’s Day due to the continuing blizzard. On Jan. 2 the road to Stayner was opened and a large plow came from Barrie to open county roads. Creemore had no plow powerful enough to force its way through the drifts. Men got out with shovels and dug away drifts so Merland Coulter, with a plow on the front of his truck, was able to open one lane on several streets.
Up the road in Websterville the storm brought experiences that have remained vivid in my memory. My father had gone to Toronto by train to spend New Year’s with his sister and wasn’t expected home before Jan. 2. That meant that the barn work was my mother’s responsibility. In the morning my sister and I happily looked out at the storm and the big drifts and thinking about the fun we would have in the snow. Helping with chores wouldn’t take that long, we thought. Before breakfast was over, however, my sister’s hopes were dashed. Chicken pox blisters were breaking out all over.
As for me, my mother had other plans. I was given the job of carrying pails of water from the house to the cows in the barn. Any other day the cows were let out into the barnyard where they would wander off to the river to drink from a hole in the ice we chopped out with an axe. But that day the snow was much too deep for them to get through. The path to the barn was obliterated and piled high with two or three feet of snow. As I tried to carry two pails I sank to the top of my legs and the water splashed out. I tried skis but found it hard to keep my balance. There was nothing else to do but struggle on with half pails and try to pack down a path.
School was to start again on Jan. 3 and much to my delight I found a chicken pox blister on the morning of the 2nd. How could a pair of sisters be so lucky! We’d had a full Christmas vacation and now we were to have two more weeks. At that time children were to stay home as long as they had scabs from the lesions. Did we worry about missed lessons and getting behind? Never! Not for a minute! We were inside maybe five days and then we were able to be out every day after that. The weather was sunny and crisp, perfect for tobogganing, skiing and skating on the river. No two girls ever enjoyed a forced vacation more. If it were possible I would wish that every child might have that kind of snowstorm memory.
Helen Blackburn is a retired teacher, avid gardener and a long-time contributor to the Creemore Echo. She writes about local history.
