"There is no pleasure in pathless snow."- Anonymous The Snowmageddon in the St. John's area January 2020 took me back to my university days at MUN in the late 1950's. A deadly snowstorm in mid-February 1959 saw a dumping of 55cm along with 135mph winds, creating seven-foot drifts blocking the main roads and railway, causing 6 casualties, and leaving 70,000 without power. Scores of stranded motorists spent the night at homes along the highway after drifts buried their stalled cars. However, the one that had occurred six weeks previously, impacted our young lives in a more personal way. It started New Year's Eve 1958 with 43.4cm of snow and strong winds. I read about guests from the Bonavista area who were invited to a New Year's Eve party at the United States Radar Station near Elliston. It was January 5, 1959 before they were able to leave the radar site. Home at Old Perlican for the Christmas break, we were set to return to the old MUN campus on Parade Street. The storm had left mountainous snowdrifts; the roads were expected to be closed for a week. Some of the old-timers were taunting us, "When we were your age, we would walk to Carbonear." Feeling equal to the challenge, we decided that was exactly what we would do. Along with my younger brother Max, Frank Cramm, and Gord Robbins, we left around 11 A.M. on Sunday, January 4 for our 30-mile trek to Carbonear. After climbing Kavanagh's, Blow-me-Down and Twelve O'Clock hills, we exited Old Perlican, and lumbered our way into Caplin Cove. Soon we were slogging our way along the craggy and blustery Flamber Head. Lacking the luxury of snowshoes, we sank knee-deep in the soft snow. Descending into Lower Island Cove, we ploughed along by Island Cove Pond, ascended another grade and down into Job's Cove. Trudging through the drifts, we tackled our way through Gull Island and Burnt Point. The wind had piled up snowdrifts so high that occasionally we could reach the crossarms on the utility poles. In Northern Bay we were struck by the seasonal juxtaposition, as our thoughts transported us to the alluring vibrancy and romance of the Northern Bay Sands in the summer. By late afternoon, we had passed through Ochre Pit Cove, Western Bay, and climbed the hill in Adam's Cove; by now, ice crystals were forming, energy waning, and dusk approaching. Upon reaching the pinnacle, Gord fell to his knees exclaiming, "I'm never, never, never going to walk again, pass the bed to me Ned. His plea would become a reality as we soon passed the Blackhead United Church and entered the next town, Broad Cove, where his parents resided. They must have been somewhat startled when four stragglers popped in unannounced. We did not feel too tuckered-out; I guess playing hockey and skating on Beckett's Ditch for two weeks was to our benefit. After a good night's rest and hearty breakfast, we expressed our gratitude to the kind folks for putting us up and putting up with us. With over half our journey completed, we started day two with sinewy strength and renewed vigor. We slogged and sloshed our way through Small Point numb to our surroundings. Somewhere around the Kingston area, we could see the highway, seemingly a stone's throw away, but we were discouraged to find that the road took a much longer circuitous route around a ravine and a body of water. At such times we oscillated between levity, staying positive and staring gloomily at the mountainous drifts confronting us. We next descended into Salmon Cove; plodding through the snow drifts until we came to a fairly steep ridge. After clambering our way to the top, we paused for a brief respite. It was only then someone said, "Except for Gord's parents, we have not seen nor spoken to anyone on our journey."They say life is a journey not a destination, but we were quite happy this particular journey was over and our destination was immediate. We dawdled gingerly down Bennett&'s Hill in Carbonear, where Frank's uncle (who was teaching there) lived. He was surprised to see four vagrants at his door. Whereupon, he proceeded to contact a Moore family (who had two members attending MUN) for possible billeting. I think all four of us went there, at least for part of the night, where we enjoyed playing, I think, board hockey games. The Moore family members were very cordial, hospitable and accommodating. The next day, if I recall, we got a bus to St. John's (although the railway was still running) arriving on the afternoon of Tuesday, January 6. Our exploits pale in comparison to remarkable feats of our sealers or Captain Bob Bartlett's expeditions. But they serve to evoke a sentimental journey as well as provide life lessons that no matter how arduous the errand, we dare to conquer by pushing on with perseverance and tenacity. Charles Beckett Gambo, NL   Submitted By: NULL