By Anada Holtz – Leduc, Alta.
I’d been visiting my friend in Saskatoon in the winter of 1958 and planned to spend Christmas at my sister’s farm near the hamlet of Laura, about 57 km (37 miles) southwest of Saskatoon. As the bus left Saskatoon, we were driving right into a blizzard on Highway 7. The wind-whipped snow created huge drifts and white-out conditions.
The temperature, already low, continued to drop. When we reached Laura, my brother-in-law wasn’t there to meet me! He had been informed the highways were closed and the buses weren’t running. I bought a bus ticket to the next town, planning to exit at my sister’s gate and walk the half-mile to her house.
When we reached their road, it was storming so hard we couldn’t see any lights at all. The bus driver was very reluctant to let me off. However, being 20 and very self-confident, I persuaded him I’d be fine.
As the bus pulled away, I watched its red light dim in the blizzard and then disappear. Hoping I was heading in the right direction, I started walking with my suitcase in one hand and a shopping bag of gifts in the other.
Forced herself to continue
The bitter wind and the driving snow stung my face and caused tears to run down my cold, chapped cheeks. Breathing became difficult. Thank goodness I was warmly dressed. I pulled my shawl collar around my head and face and kept trudging on. My numb legs were tiring, but I kept forcing them to break trail through the crusty snow.
Weary from battling the elements and without seeing a sign of habitation, it crossed my mind I could be lost. As I paused for a minute, trying to catch my breath, I detected a faint glimmer of light through the swirling snow. Thank goodness for signs of life! As I kept walking toward that light, a dog began to bark insistently.
Normally, I’m afraid of dogs, but this was a welcome sound. The barking grew louder and a furry bundle bounded through the dark to meet me. It was Shep, my sister’s family dog!
After nearly knocking me off my weary legs, he turned and headed toward the light. Glancing back to see if I was following, he gave an occasional bark as if to say, “Come on, it’s over here.” He led the way for me.
Sister shocked to see her
As I trudged through the snowdrifts toward the light, which turned out to be a yard light, I was finally able to discern their porch light and a faint beam from their kitchen window.
Encouraged by reaching our destination, Shep scurried up the back steps. He bolted into the porch. I wasn’t as quick to enter, but I was grateful to be there and called out, “Hello! Is anyone home?”
The family came running. “It’s Auntie!” exclaimed the girls as they ran to hug me.
My sister was shocked. “Sis, you mean you walked through this storm?”
“Only from the highway,” I replied, as if it hadn’t been much of an ordeal.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said. “I was so disappointed to hear the buses weren’t running and pictured you spending Christmas in Saskatoon.”
I guess I’d caught the last bus. Taking off my boots and wet clothing, I slowly began to get some feeling back in my extremities. After a hearty supper and three cups of hot tea, I was getting warm and sleepy.
Eager to be asleep before Santa arrived, the girls retired early. I was ready for bed myself. Snug between flannelette sheets and covered by a feather quilt, with a hot water bottle at my feet, I was soon fast asleep.
