By Art Sander – Hilbre, Man.
Have you ever had to do something that was nearly impossible? In my case, I am referring to the winter of 1955-56. It started snowing Oct. 8, 1955, and didn’t quit until the following April.
We, the Sander family of Faulkner, Man., had a herd of 60 cattle. We ceased using horses in 1953 and depended on two Ford 8N tractors to provide locomotion. This was no so easy when snowfall levels were recorded at 58- to 60-inches – although, I personally think it was more.
We hauled all the hay we had close to home the last week in February, 1956. Hours of shovelling, towing, and forking hay to fill a 10 x 20 hayrack on a sleigh. There is the old saying “when the going gets tough, the tough get going”. My brother, Norval, and I had to toughen up in a hurry, as our other brother, John, was working elsewhere.
Our local government administration suspended snow ploughing side roads for economic reasons. They only maintained Provincial Road 239 and Highway 6. To make matters worse, 239 was blocked by 20-foot snowdrifts for more than a week.
Caterpillar tractor cleared road
We borrowed all the hay our neighbour A. Roehle could spare to tide us over until 239 could be open. Finally, we heard the cement plant had sent a D7 caterpillar tractor to clear it. It was just in time too, as we had no hay for the cattle for two days. They were so hungry, they were eating spruce branches.
I’d purchased land near Hilbre in 1954, intending it to be my future home. We had hay there that Norval and I had made that summer, so we set out for the hay with both tractors and sleigh around noon.
We got to Hilbre, a journey of about 14 miles (23 km), and found we had to drive on a horse road for another three miles (five km). The road was built up three-feet or more and if we drove off, we’d have to pack snow under the wheels to get back on.
We got to the farm just before dark and started ploughing a path to a hay stack. We could only push snow to the top of our V-plough, then had to shovel it away, push some, then shovel again and again.
We finally got to a stack and loaded by pitchfork an amount we thought we could pull. By now, it was getting to be daylight and we started back. We slipped off the horse road now and then, but always managed to get back on by packing snow.
Brother had asthma attack
Finally getting to Highway 6 and then to 239, we ran out of gas. I walked to a neigbour’s farm and found them having breakfast. They were very sympathetic and gave me a gallon. I walked back and woke Norval up and have him exercise to warm up.
We got home finally and rationed our little load of hay to three barns as our cattle were all stabled. We had breakfast. Norval had an asthma attack and had to go to bed. I went back for another load and thankfully had no trouble. Boy, did I ever sleep when I got home and unloaded!
This itinerary carried on the rest of the winter. Towards spring, we had to borrow a trailer from Jonas Gillis, as there was not enough snow on the road for sleighing. We parked it beside a streetlight in town and hauled two sleigh loads on the horse road to fill it.
We drove at night and thankfully in the 1950s we had mostly local traffic who knew to watch out for “the Sander nighthawks.”
