While I had experienced thunderstorms previously in California and even Kansas, the thunderstorms were especially remarkable in North Dakota back in the 1970's. Of course, the blizzards we had back then were also unbelievable. I was stuck out on alert three times during my four-year tour: once for four days, once for three and a half days, and once for three days.
Generally, once a blizzard begins, you are advised to simply stay where you are. If you get lost, you can die. You cannot see very far and the wind chill is sometimes 100 degrees below zero. You will not survive for long no matter how warmly you are dressed. Even if you momentarily see lights in the distance, you typically will not live long enough to reach them and safety. Vehicles usually get stuck or stall, and you often cannot walk your way to safety with any certainty.
Under the old 36-hour alerts, the first crew and my crew simply changed over repeatedly for the full four days, every twelve hours, until the weather lifted and the relief crew finally arrived. By the end, we were walking zombies who actually had to read every line of the changeover procedure because we were insensible at that point. The site was running out of food so we had to ration. Everyone ran out of cash and coin, and the Coke machine ran out of product. One time one security team fortunately made their way to a barn after their vehicle became stuck. They felt their way along its sides and luckily soon found the barn door. They road out that storm in the barn and survived.
Weather could not be taken lightly in North Dakota. And even thunderstorms seemed, to me, a metaphor for something much more deadly.
North Dakota Thunderstorm
I understand now
the worship of weather.
I, who have no gods,
marvel at the display
and the stumbling ability
that seems to understand conclusions so firmly.
Yes, an unravelling power to rival our missiles.
Yet behind the most stubborn and rugged front
there is no simple thought.
This opposition is a kind of force
to lean on for comfort.
You never think it brings relief.
Off balance, but it works.
Releasing all other forces
building elsewhere.
Generally, once a blizzard begins, you are advised to simply stay where you are. If you get lost, you can die. You cannot see very far and the wind chill is sometimes 100 degrees below zero. You will not survive for long no matter how warmly you are dressed. Even if you momentarily see lights in the distance, you typically will not live long enough to reach them and safety. Vehicles usually get stuck or stall, and you often cannot walk your way to safety with any certainty.
Under the old 36-hour alerts, the first crew and my crew simply changed over repeatedly for the full four days, every twelve hours, until the weather lifted and the relief crew finally arrived. By the end, we were walking zombies who actually had to read every line of the changeover procedure because we were insensible at that point. The site was running out of food so we had to ration. Everyone ran out of cash and coin, and the Coke machine ran out of product. One time one security team fortunately made their way to a barn after their vehicle became stuck. They felt their way along its sides and luckily soon found the barn door. They road out that storm in the barn and survived.
Weather could not be taken lightly in North Dakota. And even thunderstorms seemed, to me, a metaphor for something much more deadly.
North Dakota Thunderstorm
I understand now
the worship of weather.
I, who have no gods,
marvel at the display
and the stumbling ability
that seems to understand conclusions so firmly.
Yes, an unravelling power to rival our missiles.
Yet behind the most stubborn and rugged front
there is no simple thought.
This opposition is a kind of force
to lean on for comfort.
You never think it brings relief.
Off balance, but it works.
Releasing all other forces
building elsewhere.
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