Vancouver Snowfall Warning

Tired of waiting for official status, winter laughed at the sticky note on our calendars, December 21 meant nothing – who were we kidding, it was time to stir up a little trouble. This afternoon Environment Canada issued a snowfall warning for the Vancouver area.

One would think this wasn’t a big deal; a regular occurrence in Canadian winters, expected and prepared for. Precisely the reason I chuckle every time it happens – it never gets old, so ridiculous is the frenzy that follows such an announcement.

Vancouver isn’t like the rest of Canada – sensible people who buy winter tires, snow shovels, and possess the common sense to navigate snow covered roads. Vancouverites live in a state of denial, a fantasy world where all season radials suffice and a bag of ice melt miraculously evaporates the foot of snow on your sidewalk. Vancouver people somehow manage to buy cute little coats and matching paw covers for their Pugs, but can’t grasp a need for snow tires or shovels.

As I write, the sound of snow plows rumble in the distance – barely an inch on the ground and it’s started already. This afternoon the radio announced several school districts were considering cancelling classes in the morning. If I didn’t have to work it would be fun to watch panic stricken residents fight each other for the last shovel at Canadian Tire, or scan the blocks long line up of cars desperate for snow tires.

This isn’t a blizzard or ice storm warning – merely a predicted 5 – 10 centimeters of snow turning to rain by late afternoon. Granted, Vancouver weather tends to make for icy conditions; nothing to worry about if you have a glimmer of common sense – my favorite experience is ending up behind someone in a Range Rover who panics and slams on the brakes instead of taking a run at a hill. If I’m not in a hurry to get to my destination, watching cars over-drive conditions, sliding side ways into intersections is a guaranteed head shaker.

Vancouver snowfall warnings are ridiculous –  the roads will be slippery – so slow down. I don’t know where these people think they live but it sure isn’t the great white north.

Notes is Away…..

I’ve made my way to Canadian winter .Snuggled inside a toasty old farmhouse –  anticipating snow and high winds overnight; I’m like a child on Christmas Eve. Peeking through the curtains every few minutes, straining to part darkness and receive the first furtive snow flakes.

Aurora watching has taken a back seat, though we were able to spot their faint whisper last night.

Call Me Crazy

Call me crazy, I won’t care. A week or so from now I’ll find myself in Battleford, Saskatchewan, and I couldn’t be happier. I grew up in the country; my rural childhood had seasons, wildlife, and something I perceived as isolation. Aside from the occasional rocking thunderstorm, and the time lightning struck and demolished the tree next to our house – it lacked extremes.

Canada is a very large country, a place with vastly different weather patterns. My farm childhood pales in comparison to that of the prairies. I grew up with lakes and mountains. I lived in a valley, surrounded by fruit trees and sagebrush. Sure it snowed, but never enough to halt our daily march to the school bus, or heaven forbid – issue a “snow day” at school.

In my early twenties I spent a winter working at a hotel in Grande Prairie, Alberta. This is the place responsible for my fascination with weather extremes.  I barely had time to wrap my head around the sun peering just above the edge of the horizon for a few hours each day, when terms like ice fog and snow rollers entered my vocabulary. Ice fog was my first lesson in the wonder of very, very cold weather.  I  knew about block heaters for car engines, you plugged your car in at night to keep the engine fluids from freezing. I didn’t know that despite this, at -40 or -45 degrees Celsius a coin still had to be flipped each morning to see who had to go out and get the thing started. I had no idea my car tires would become flat where they sat on the ground, and that everyone thunked along the road until their tires warmed up. I had no frame of reference to ponder temperatures so cold , water vapour in fog would form ice crystals that hung in the air. Barely able to catch my breath; snow rollers assaulted the house. Far from scientific my explanation of this phenomenon is summed up as high wind blowing across the prairie picking up snow, this snow forms balls, pushed by the wind and growing as they roll along,  they smash into the side of your house with a rather astounding thwack.

Officially hooked on weather, I sought it out rather than waiting for it to come along. While extremely cold weather seemed to offer the most excitement, I wasn’t picky. Any weather rush would do.

Hail storms fueled my hunger. Driving through “tornado alley” in the states gave me goose bumps. One night as we drove across South Dakota a tornado was visible between the lightning flashes. I see my first flash flood as if it were yesterday. We were at the Monument Valley on the Utah/Arizona border when massive thunder clouds started to build on the horizon, within minutes the wind was blowing sand  with such force it stung. All around me people scrambled for cover as hail and rain fell with force beyond imagination. I didn’t move, I couldn’t take my eyes off a red rock cliff; transformed into a muddy waterfall. Out of nowhere an old Navajo man appeared, he talked to me, explaining why mother earth had sent this storm. Never before or since have I felt as “spiritual” as I did that moment.

Last summer in Cuba, tropical storm Emily passed over Havana. Sitting at the edge of our hotel’s roof top pool, I felt the storm before I saw it. Oblivious to the pounding rain, wind, or frantic appeals by hotel staff to clear the roof; I smiled as funnel clouds formed, dropping down and retreating, teasing me with their elegance and power. The hotel staff literally pulled me from the roof as lightning lashed with a fury that surprised and rejuvenated me. Deposited in my room just in time to witness a lightning bolt strike the building next to us. Every hair on my body stood on end, the building rocked as deafening echoes bounced off the battered city. It was incredible, one of my best days.

So now I’m off to Battleford. A tiny blip, planted squarely in the centre of the Canadian prairie. A place where freezing rain, blizzards, and wind chills are a fact of life. I’m going to visit a place where weather changes in the blink of an eye, and best of all; a place where the endless sky, unobstructed by mountains or city lights will give me a front row seat to auroras. The northern lights show will hopefully be the icing on an extreme weather shot in the arm.

Snow Rollers –