Crestline: A State of Emergency
Last week, I wrote about the distraction of the snow. The struggle continues.
Here, in the small town of Crestline, California, 100 inches of snow has fallen. It is impossible to describe, in any truly meaningful way, how snow has affected the lives of those of us who live here. The snowfall ended more than a week ago and we are still struggling to dig out.
It is a grind.
I have seen many comments on social media regarding our situation. The most irritating are ones that say we choose to be in the mountains and we should already be prepared or evacuate ahead of time. We’re just being overdramatic.
In an ordinary Winter season, Crestline receives around 31 inches of snow. This is only slightly above average for the US which is 28 (source). This has not been an ordinary season.
San Bernardino County was not prepared. Road maintenance got away from them and the accumulation became too deep for their equipment to be effective. The damage was done. All roads to mountain communities were closed for two weeks. Even now, 10 days after the snow ended, photo ID and a utility bill are required to be granted access to the mountain. You must prove residency here for access. That’s better than nothing at all. My next-door neighbor still hasn’t been able to return. She left for work weeks ago.
You can see some pavement. Vehicles drive by, hit the berm and make road conditions worse.
Plowed roads are still barely passable. SB County claims 95% of them are clear. Their definition of clear is weak for those of us who need to use them. Either the roads still have snow on them or the berms are so large on the sides that only one vehicle can travel at a time. Larger pickup trucks have to fold in their mirrors in order to squeeze through. If you meet someone going in the opposite direction, one of you has to do quite a bit of backing up.
Three weeks into it, we are tired and broken. Trash service hasn’t occurred in nearly a month. Vehicles remain buried. Shoveling never ends. Roofs and decks have collapsed. Fires and explosions have continued. People have died.
Help is here, though. Those who need it are receiving donated food. National Guard, neighboring fire departments and volunteers are aiding in the shoveling and snow removal duties. Even Dave Sparks, of Diesel Brothers fame, has come from Utah. While I don’t agree with everything Dave does, I certainly appreciate the help.
News crews, though.
I won't look at news reports the same way again. We’re used to seeing reporters standing with a disaster area as a backdrop. Hurricanes, tornadoes, floods, earthquakes. It is normal. We’ve made national news every day since the storm. Reporters are everywhere. They were here when residents weren’t allowed to return. I saw them as I traveled by foot for supplies and others were trapped completely. My irritation had reached new heights. Grab a shovel or go away.
Goodwin and Sons has seen better days. News crews are utilizing black SUVs.
The psychological toll has been more than I expected. Sunday afternoon, Mrs. Bald Rider told me that part of Ace Hardware was open. Our power was out (11 hours) and I was tired from shoveling all morning. So, I geared up for the trek and walked there to get supplies. Even though I was already aware of Goodwin and Sons being destroyed by roof collapse, I was not prepared for it in person. It was truly devastating to see the center of our community boarded up and broken. I just stood in the parking lot for what felt like an eternity, staring. Continuing on my journey, I walked by at least two other businesses with extensive damage or total loss. The landscape of our town has changed, maybe forever.
Progress
Snow will dull the blade but the berm will make me go insane.
Mrs. Bald Rider and I have been digging every day. I broke out my chainsaw Tuesday to tackle the ice wall (berm) between us and freedom. The chainsaw starting was a miracle after dealing with the gunked-up carb on the snowblower two weeks prior. It was Wednesday afternoon before enough snow was cleared to gain access to the garage. The Ural sidecar is our only usable source of transportation now. I’m kicking myself for not buying tire studs last Summer. I thought it was overkill.
To increase the likelihood of being successful in traversing the poor-quality roads, I mounted a new Heidenau K37 on the pusher from my stash of tires. The process nearly broke me completely. At one point, and about 4 hours into mounting, I was struggling to get the valve stem through the hole in the rim. I nearly broke into tears. Weeks of shoveling drained my resolve and this uncooperative tube was the last straw.
The effort to remove snow off of the post office an be seen in the background. At least with a Ural, you can squeeze into places to park.
I completed the tire installation with enough time to make my first trip to the post office in two weeks. There was a large crew of people clearing the roof and parking lot. Snow was being hauled away in dump trucks. I nearly returned home without incident. The front wheel washed out traveling through deep slush while going uphill on a left-hand turn. The sidecar rode up a snow bank and it was sketchy, not the sketchiest, but still sketchy. I made it home, though. That’s what matters.
It is warming up now. The next band of precipitation is staying mostly north of us, a break we desperately needed. I had hoped to dig out the truck by this weekend. There is nowhere to put the snow.
My birthday is coming up in a couple of weeks. The temperatures are going to be in the 50s with no snow.
Best birthday present I could ask for.
I wouldn’t be surprised of a reporter put this flag here for effect. It is effective, though.
Afterthoughts
Memories are a funny thing. I grew up in Delaware. The ‘Storm of the Century’ in 1993 and the Blizzard of 1996 were big deals. I looked them up for this article and was shocked at how little snow actually fell. Until 2023, they were the biggest storms in my mind I had ever encountered. Each of those storms only dropped 20-30 inches and I remember them paralyzing the community. At 10 and 13, respectively, I didn’t think I would ever go back to school.
I can only imagine what children will think of this storm when they are adults. I hope they don’t have to deal with the unpreparedness of San Bernardino County like their parents did.
