Dakota Driving Tale Teaches Winter Survival Lessons

By Annie Persson
Contributing Writer

There I sat, in the driver’s seat of my not-so-trustworthy truck, pulled over on I-94. Sitting next to me was my good friend, who brought a familiar comfort to this unexpected situation. The two strangers occupying my backseat made us feel tense and apprehensive.

We knew it was midday on March 11, 2011. However, our location and which direction we were facing were unidentifiable. In a short period of time, my windows had accumulated a thick layer of ice which, when cleared, only revealed a white cloud of blowing snow.

I felt frustrated for not obeying the “winter survival” rules every North Dakotan stores in the back of his or her mind during these cold months. After a few hours I acknowledged this to be a remarkable experience, unaware that the worst was yet to come.

Tip No. 1: Know your environment.

Whenever I tell people I’m from North Dakota I always get the same responses. People always say they don’t know much about North Dakota, besides their false perception of our lives mirroring the 1996 film “Fargo.” But something that nearly everyone recognizes about the Peace Garden State is winter months that are long and bitterly cold.

Until that moment, I hadn’t fully grasped how savage and relentless winter can be and how preparation and common sense can be lifesavers or make an experience less miserable.

Tip No. 2: Always check the winter travel forecast by calling 511. And listen to it!

It was the day before spring break and everyone was eager to get on the road. My friend Inga and I decided to carpool. We were both were anxious to leave Fargo en route to Bismarck, as we each had vacation destinations to reach the following day.

Foreboding talk of a blizzard headed our way didn’t concern us. It seems that, in North Dakota, there are always predictions of horrible storms with ridiculous amounts of snowfall which turn out to be anticlimactic or nonexistent.

We left Fargo without listening to the forecast. “It’s not the first time we’ve traveled in the winter,” I said. “If the weather gets ugly we’ll just drive slowly.” The first 100 miles or so of our journey gave us clear skies which fed our arrogance, as the roads were dry and pristine. I passed the city of Jamestown without stopping despite my knowledge that it contained the last gas station I would see in about 30 miles. Our levity clouded our common sense; we were oblivious of danger.

Tip No. 3: During winter travel, always keep your gas tank full!

Everyone understands the importance of having a full tank of gas when traveling, especially in the below-zero temperatures. Everyone, apparently, except me. My less-than-half-full tank was not a concern until I encountered the abruptly visible wall of snow on the highway.

The weather turned within seconds and I realized I had no choice but to pull over. Unable to identify the road’s shoulder, I parked my truck and hoped for the best.

My primary concern was that a traveling car would skid and collide into my parked car—a situation I witnessed moments earlier. However, a large semi parked behind us blocked oncoming traffic.

We were told repeatedly that the white haze would clear up. Three hours later, we concluded no one had any idea how long this would last, and we let go of the promising statistics.

Tip No. 4: Have a winter survival kit with necessary items such as water, food, blankets and a first aid kit stored in your car.

We realized we had very little food or hydration. We had a banana, a small wheel of Laughing Cow cheese, half a bottle of water and a can of Mountain Dew. I had a coat but nothing waterproof or insulating. A mummy-style sleeping bag in my backseat would later prove to be an object of disgust rather than warmth.

I was astonished at how under-prepared I was considering my 19 years of experience with North Dakota cold. The absence of control actually brought a calm to my friend and me, as we knew there was nothing we could do.

We found it easy to create entertainment. We laughed as the woman behind us struggled to stand in the high wind in an effort to scrape her useless windshield. Then, there was a tap on my window that would alter the situation, and the poor, innocent sleeping bag, forever.

Tip No. 5: Be cautious of who you let into your car.

As I struggled to break the ice separating the open window from the exterior, I could hear a woman’s frantic pleas. This alarmed me because there could easily have been someone hurt under our circumstances. Relieved that that woman was okay, she said her vehicle was out of gas, and asked if she and her son could come into my truck. I’m usually not one to turn people down, so I agreed.

My “Good Samaritan” act turned into a huge mistake. Within seconds of entering my car, she said, “How long does it take to die of shock?” and “I have hyperthermia, help me!” I was too exhausted to explain to her the difference between “hypo” and “hyper,” so I remained quiet.

She constantly complained—“It’s too cold in here!” or “I have hyperthermia!” or “I’m hungry!” She didn’t like the banana and water we gave her. Two hours later, we reluctantly decided Mother Nature was now our public restroom and took turns leaving the car to relieve ourselves.

When it was the woman’s turn, she refused to leave and asked, “Can’t I just go in your sleeping bag?” Unwilling to consider these details, I mentally shut down. She never left the car, so her question weighed on me.

Five hours later, she confessed she had a full tank of gas in her car, but wasn’t willing to “waste her money.” Astounded, I said, “I think it would be better if you left.” She pointed to her son and said, “How about I go to my car, but leave him with you?” I started laughing, because I thought the kid was better behaved than his mother.

About 13 hours later, on a near empty tank of gas, help and hope arrived. The North Dakota National Guard led us to the small town of Medina, where we lodged in the school’s gymnasium. The interstate didn’t open until the next night, but we were grateful to be off the road. When the weather cleared, the woman and her son went their way, taking their own car and full tank of gas with them.

In the end, I consider my time on the highway to be worthwhile. From now on, I will have a proper winter survival kit in my car, and will have more respect for Mother Nature. Surprisingly, I don’t regret the company of the woman and her son during those long hours. I wouldn’t consider denying someone under those circumstances. However, I did realize that if I feel uncomfortable about a person or situation, there is probably a good reason for it.

One more problem needed to be solved—the sleeping bag. When I finally made it home, I told my Mom about our adventure. Her only response was, “You do realize there’s no way we can keep that sleeping bag, right?”

I left the sleeping bag in a dumpster, freeing myself forever from worries about its unknown contents.

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[Editor’s note: Annie Persson is an MSUM sophomore majoring in mass communications]