Cow Hey - 11 The Blizzard

Our excitement about the mild weather in February was soon to change to real chaos.

Snow started falling early evening just after we got back from school on Monday March 9th after a wet and windy morning and the storm increased in severity during the night. We had had lots of snow earlier in the year, but with the mild February weather it was all gone. This time the snow was heavy, fine and powdery with strong easterly winds raging. And the temperature plummeted again to freezing. Gale and hurricane-force winds piled the snow into huge drifts which blocked the roads.

By Tuesday March 10th the wind had died down a little although snow continued to fall heavily. I knew there was no way I would be going to school. The snow had built up into drifts several feet high. And you could see out of the window that there were trees down in field. Mr. Allsop had managed to make a trip out to the barn, to feed the animals, but decided it would be sensible to tie a rope from the barn to the back door of the house, so that if visibility got even worse, he would be able to find his way to and from the barn in future. We also had thunder and lightning during the day and snow fell until midnight.

Wednesday dawned bright and clear. But all the roads in the area were blocked with drifts up to 16 feet deep.

Luckily we were well supplied with food - Mrs. Allsop being keen on preserving fruits and vegetables. And our root cellar where the potatoes, carrots, parsnips and other root vegetables were stored was protected from the worst of the snow by an overhanging roof. We were able to empty out the accumulated snow and get into the cellar to remove a few days' worth of vegetables.

Our larder was well stocked with dry goods, and Mrs. Allsop thought a good use of our time on this miserable day would be the making of bread. Mr. Allsop went to the wood pile and brought in a huge supply (just in case, he said) which was very good thinking.

The snow went on for days, without let up. It wasn't quite as cold as it had been in December, and in a way the snow acted as a insulator, keeping the heat in the house and barn. Mr. Allsop made the trip out several times a day to check on the livestock. He also checked with our neighbours, the Wornalds, to make sure they had adequate food and wood, which they did.

Finally on March 13th, the weather abated, and a slow thaw set in. We were finally able to get out, and Mr. Allsop made a trip to the pub at Lane Ends, to find out how the rest of the area and indeed the country was faring.

When he returned, he brought a newspaper with him. I read the bits about the weather out to them both after tea. It turns out that for once, we in the North did not have the worst of the weather.

Many farmers suffered major loss of livestock. Sheep, cattle and horses were buried in deep snowdrifts and either suffocated or froze to death. But there was the occasional good story of sheep being found alive under the snow.

"One headline calls the storm a Blizzard.” I read to them, “and said the name came from the German expression:"Der sturm kommt blitzartig", which translates as "The storm came lightning-like".

"GREAT SNOWSTORM in the west of England, trains buried for days: E-NE GALE, shipwrecks, many lives lost.

"220 people are dead; 65 ships have foundered in the English Channel; 6000 sheep have perished; countless trees were uprooted; 14 trains were stranded in Devon alone.

"Although the West Country was the worst affected, southern England, the Midlands, and south Wales also suffered. Snowdrifts were 'huge' around some houses in the London - would be accounted a most remarkable sight nowadays! A man was reported found dead at Dorking, Surrey, while snowdrifts of 12 feet high were recorded at Dulwich, London and Dartmouth, Devon. At Torquay and Sidmouth, Devon over 12 inches of snow fell.

"The winds blew down more than half a million trees and 65 ships were wrecked in the Channel – one of the worst maritime disasters of the century.

"The West Country was worst hit. Snowdrifts piled up to 20ft high and trains were buried on their tracks. Driver John Murray described how he had been trapped in a “pile of snow 7ft high” on Dartmoor.. The Tavy Cleave on the edge of Dartmoor which is 500 feet deep was completely filled with drifted snow.

"Here is an article about one of the ships that sank due to the storm. Shall I read it out?”

"Yes," they both said,

"Built by the Belfast shipping firm of Hartland and Wolff in 1883, the Bay of Panama was described by everyone who saw her as probably the finest sailing ship afloat. With her steel hull, and four square-rigged masts, she was a very fast and beautiful ship of 2282 tons. But strength and good looks are no guarantee, and last week the Bay of Panama met up with the worst blizzard Cornwall had suffered for over two hundred years. It was to prove no contest. Because of her speed, the Bay of Panama was used on the Calcutta run, and on November 18th last year she left that port bound for Dundee loaded with a cargo of 13000 bales of jute.

"For four months she sailed swiftly towards England until one morning during the early part of March this year, she approached the Cornish coast in rapidly deteriorating weather. The Captain knew all about the dangers of a lee shore, but because of the bad visibility he was uncertain as to his exact position. He could see that the weather was unlikely to get any better, and he even thought that there might be some snow. After weighing up all the risks he decided to heave to, take some depth soundings, and generally take stock of his position. It was a decision that was to cost him his ship, and his life. Only a few hours later, in the early afternoon, a blizzard, the worst for over two centuries, swept into the West Country and engulfed the Bay of Panama.

"Somehow, she missed the Lizard, missed the Manacles (which claimed four ships in that storm), and her captain was able to aim her in the general direction of the Helford River. She didn't make it, however. In the dark and the snow, she ran straight into the cliffs just south of Nare Point.

“She struck hard, swung violently so that her bows pointed back out to sea, and ended up with her port side jammed against the rocks and listing hard to starboard. Seconds later, waves like moving mountains hit her, and one tore the deckhouse right off the ship. Inside were Captain Wright, his wife, the ship's steward, the ship's cook and four young apprentices. All died as the deckhouse shattered in the trough of another giant wave. The mate ordered the rest of the crew into the rigging. During the night, six men froze solid and their bodies hung from the rigging like icicles. Others could not hold on and slid down to their deaths.

“It wasn't until the arrival of a local farmer, trying to find his sheep the next day, that the ship was spotted. A rocket crew got a line across the ship, and brought 17 men out of her crew of 40, alive, though literally frozen stiff, to shore.

“However the rescue did not put an end to the hardships that the survivors had to bear. After being fed and unfrozen, the men were put to bed for the night in the village of St. Keverne. The next day, wrapped in blankets they set off for Falmouth in a horse drawn bus. But huge snowdrifts blocked the roads, and soon they could make no more headway. The men were forced to abandon the bus and carry on to Falmouth on foot. Most had no shoes, and nearly all were only clothed in rags and blankets. The local newspaper, The Falmouth Packet, commented "the men had endured as much privation in that walk as they did in the actual shipwreck".

"Those poor men," said Mrs. Allsop.

"And don't forget all those families who will suffer as well," said Mr. Allsop.

“And here is another article about a train that was buried in the snow.

“Suddenly, on Monday, March 11, a terrific gale swooped down upon this part of Devon, laden to repletion with snow. All railway traffic was stopped, telegraphic communication ceased, the wires everywhere in this district were prostrated. A train at Meldon, south of Okehampton, on the L. & S.W.R., and another at South Brent, on the G.W.R. were snowed up. The force of the wind was terrible. It was a wild tornado-blast that carried everything with it. Houses were unroofed, trees, the growth of ages, were uprooted and made the sport of the wind. Snow-drifts From 15 feet to 20 feet deep choked the highways and lanes. The old road to Lew Down was filled with snow to the tops of the hedges, the coombe between Sourton Tor and Lake Down was completely choked with snow. Between Brentor View House on Lew Down and the stable, the snow was massed so that those in the dwelling for a day were employed in cutting through the drift so as to reach the coals that were stored there. At Lifton, as well as other places, parties were formed to carry food to outlying cottages, where the inhabitants were snowed in. The wind was from the north-east. For three or four days all main communications were stopped, no letters went out or arrived, and every village had to depend, in many cases every house, on its own resources. The passengers snowed up in the train at Meldon could not be rescued till the next day, and were found drowsy and stupefied by the cold. Some had not moved or spoken for eighteen hours, and were so torpid that they were unconscious that they were in the hands of helpers to life and activity. The wreckage of trees was prodigious. At Cotehele all the magnificent oaks were prostrated. Great havoc was wrought in the plantations made by my grandfather the year before his death, on the eastern range of the Lime Quarry Ramps. The great cedar west of the ball-room would have been completely broken down under the weigh to of snow lodged on the branches, had not men with poles been employed repeatedly to relieve it.

“The Tavistock Gazette was issued on the Friday printed on crimson paper, such as is used generally for advertising placards, as the supply of white paper had run short, and none could be procured from Plymouth or Exeter, on account of the cessation of traffic.

“The Rev. Dr Bryant had been at Lamerton when the storm came on. Nothing daunted, he set off to walk to Brentor vicarage, but on reaching Heathfield he found the roads blocked with snow in which he sank to his waist. He was constrained to proceed on the tops of the hedges, till, reaching a cottage at the junction of several roads, he was so exhausted that he had to beg to be taken in for the night, and he slept on a chair before the fire.”

“So we didn't do so badly after all,” said Mr. Allsop.

“We must give thanks to the Lord that we are fit and well after it all, unlike so many.”