I live in northern Michigan. It’s not the Upper Peninsula, but almost. It’s closer to Canada than Detroit.
There are lots of snowstorms. The average annual snow rate is 125 inches. An 18-inch weekend falling from the sky is not that unusual. In my father’s words, “It snows there every day.”
It was wise to trust our courage and leave when we did. In our modern world, we tend not to listen to our instincts. I think we’re too smart for them.
However, there aren’t many ice storms. The temperature does not tend to hang out at around 32, and tends to correspond to the evil mix of rain and sleet needed to create meaningful ice problems.
Frozen, squeal, snap
Last weekend was different. The entire northern tip of Michigan’s Lower Peninsula was destroyed by the worst ice storm we’ve seen in over a century. Everything has been shut down. I lost my strength everywhere. The streetlights were black. A gas station that cannot pump. A completely dark town. There was no fee for current, and hundreds of electrodes collapsed.
I lost my power on a Saturday night around 8pm. I was expecting the lights to return in a few hours.
We were wrong. In the middle of the night, lying in bed, we heard the frozen tree outside the window. The wind blew, thousands of small cracks echoing through the air. The ice-covered branches sounded like mini machine guns wavying on the roof. Occasionally, we heard creaks, violent snaps, followed by the sounds of rattling the house.
It was creepy and lying quietly there, waiting for the next snap, wondering if one of the wonderful trees behind it would come through our roof.
The wind was not very big. There was no howling, just cracking. Recognizing the fact that the entire region was dark when viewed from space, I made those moments even more ominous in bed that night. The entire wooded land is dark, frozen, creak, cracked and snapped.
Time to go
By noon the next day, things seemed to get worse. More branches came down and took the wires home. The electricity didn’t return anytime soon. We decided there was no reason to sit and wait. We decided to pack the kids and $500 worth of meat in the breast freezer and head south for four hours to stay with our family in West Michigan.
I had to find a station as soon as possible, with less than half the gas tank. I found a powered mobile in Boyne Falls. A car line extending from the parking lot. Ten minutes later, workers came and said they were short on gas.
We bought some ice inside, packed it full of meat coolers and headed back to the road. Another station with electricity was found 15 miles south in Alba. This time I had gas. We were on our way with a full tank and cooler full of ice.
Our neighbors stayed. They kept us up to date with text over the next few days. We told them to raid our pantry and use towels to take whatever they needed.
Great Birch
Our power finally returned on Wednesday night, four days after it left. Many people have been incredibly damaged. There are still people in the country who are not strong enough. Thankfully, our house is doing relatively well, but the big white r behind was destroyed and the maple lost a large branch.
With everything in life, there is always something to learn. Some lessons, some insights, some reflections. The cleverest thing we did was leave when we thought we should. The four-day powerless days aren’t the Hercules test, but it’s not fun when you’re in the middle of an ice storm anywhere. No one really chooses to do that.
I’m a workaholic. There are too many deadlines and too many projects. If we were staying, I wouldn’t have been working. In addition to leaving $500 worth of meat, I will be catching up for the next two weeks. Staying would only make things worse for everyone.
It was wise to trust our courage and leave when we did. In our modern world, we tend not to listen to our instincts. I think we’re too smart for them. Compared to spreadsheets, they look like hocus pocus. We describe them as irrational or illogical. And of course, sometimes, but sometimes not.
That wasn’t the case this time.
Fragile systems
It’s incredible how vulnerable our modern systems are. We need electricity to do our job. You need electricity to keep your food fresh. You need electricity to make calls over the phone. You need electricity to get gas. You need electricity everywhere. Without this, the world crashes for a few days.
300 years ago, the same storm had little impact on life. The horses continue to march, the letters continue to move, the fire continues to burn, and the work is accomplished. The food doesn’t get bad. The system won’t melt. The only thing that can happen is property damage caused by falling trees.
If the electricity goes off today, life will stop. It is fascinating and worrying how vulnerable we and our modern world are. We skate with eggshells.
The great and beautiful white ch in our backyard will be destroyed. The branches cracked at the top and leaned down. Old trees hang down on our deck. We’re all sad about that. We loved the tree. Long branches, beautiful leaves, white paper-like bark. Lie in a hammock on a long summer day, looking out at the sky under the suspicious protection of old beauty.
It’s the same story on all the big white ch on our streets. All the tall, whimsical giants were defeated by the ice. Their strong trunks made no difference. Their long branches – those that only age comes – were too fragile.
The young people around town are fine. Without fatal cracks, the weather will bounce back as soon as it warms up. Their branches were too small and light and should not break under the weight of the ice. They’re fine. That’s what it should be.
