There’s the net, and we know what we know,
But if something’s uncertain, it’s snow
Is it foolish or bold,
To make a trip in such cold?
Or just plan on making it slow?
Synopsis: I’m a Family Practitioner from Sioux City, Iowa. In 2010 I danced back from the brink of burnout, and honoring a 1 year non-compete clause, traveled and worked in out-of-the-way places in Alaska, Nebraska, Iowa, and New Zealand. After three years working with a Community Health Center, I went back to adventures in temporary positions until they have an Electronic Medical Record (EMR) system I can get along with. Assignments in Nome, Alaska, rural Iowa, and suburban Pennsylvania stretched into fall 2015. Since last winter I’ve worked in Alaska and western Nebraska, and taken time to deal with my wife’s (benign) brain tumor. After a moose hunt in Canada, and short jobs in western Iowa and Alaska, I am working in Clarinda, Iowa. Any identifiable patient information has been included with permission.
I kept an eye on the internet weather predictions on Thursday preparatory to the drive back to Sioux City, and I could see snow predicted for the evening, but the really hard snow wouldn’t start till after midnight. Bethany and I talked about the trip over lunch. We decided to try to get as far as we could, and, if necessary, stay the night in a motel in Onawa, about 50 miles from home. We left in light rain mixed with sleet. Our neighbors called before we reached Omaha. The blizzard had engulfed our destination.
We talked it over some more. We decided that even if we could get to Onawa, a closed Interstate at that point would mean full motels.
If we’re going to get stuck, we said, we’d rather get stuck in a town with a variety of good restaurants and an overabundance of rooms.
We dined at the Jaipur, and while we tried a couple of dishes we’d never had before, the snow-covered the car to a depth of 3 inches.
We crept down icy streets to a nearby motel.
We hadn’t even brought a change of clothes, but the front desk had toothbrushes with tiny tubes of toothpaste.
We slept hard and deep and awakened rested to find, after breakfast, the car encrusted with ice and coated with heavy, wet snow. The trunk, frozen shut, required a good deal of coaxing to open.
As I pulled onto the Interstate in Omaha, a car intending to take the same ramp from the other direction spun out while I watched.
Between the two of us, my driving talent lies with traffic, and Bethany’s with snow and mountains. I got us out of Omaha and headed north on I-29. At the first rest area we changed drivers.
On the way to Sioux City we saw two more spin outs and a half-dozen cars off the road, one on its roof.
The drive took twice as long as usual. But we arrived, safe and grateful.
It snowed and it blew but the cold didn’t approach the negative double digits we’d planned on in Fairbanks. Still it’s all part of the adventure.