Postcard Memories is a series of historic views, stories, and photos of Bradford and the area, a trip down memory lane on a Saturday morning.
The year was 1975. Wednesday, April 2 to pinpoint the date.
I was Sunday School superintendent and was waiting for the teachers to arrive for a meeting. I was living in the former Whiteside home at the southeast corner of 88 and 400 Highways.
It was one of those evenings where there were a few flakes of snow drifting down from a high.
April was here. The tulips were coming up and snow tires were off the cars.
We had a good meeting and snacks and everyone was ready to leave and go home.
We opened the door and there must have been a foot of snow in the drive. The snowplows had been out and the snow cuttings were packed at the end of the drive, and cars were having a hard time getting over them. I donned some winter boots and pushed each car out onto the highway.
After cleaning up the dishes I headed to bed.
The morning saw a real snowstorm outside and no one was moving. As the day progressed, cars were being detoured off Highway 400 and some were heading to the Husky gas station and some to Bradford.
By nightfall I had three French people; two from Beeton and another banging on the door to see if they could come in.
Friday it was still storming with no end in sight. We went out to see if the cars they had abandoned on the 400 were alright. There was not a car visible on the six lanes of the highway. All you could see were car antennas sticking out of the snow. We went to the Husky station and found out there were 150 people lying around and sleeping on carpets. I went back to my shop and got all my sheets of foam and sent them down for people to sleep on.
Getting near noon I got to thinking about what I had to eat for seven guests and myself that evening. I called the local OPP station and they brought me out a roast of beef and a few other supplies on a snowmobile.
One of the guests was from Jamaica and he showed me how to prepare a roast to get wonderful flavours in the beef. Also, how to cook it properly. I have been doing it that way ever since. When we sat down for supper it was so good!
The people of Bond Head also became cooks and pastry chefs bringing meals to the Bond Head Community Centre where there were approximately 150 stranded guests. There was a bit of a party after and then everyone headed to bed.
Saturday dawned, and again we went out to the 400. The snow was stopping and people from Husky were trying to find their buried cars. Word came in that just south of us there was an 18 wheeler upside down and near the Canal road, a small plane had crash-landed.
The snowplows came up Highway 88 and told us when to go to find the cars. The plowman had a man out with a long stake walk on the top of the snowbanks, pushing the rod to hear for hollow thumps. The thumps meant there was a car underneath, and people would start to dig.
By Sunday evening my guests all said goodbye and headed to their destinations.
I headed into Bradford and the main street was like a transport convoy waiting for word they could leave and be on their way.
By mid-week, the snow was pretty well gone as the sun was hot and melting it fast.
At the same time, a group of young men and women decided to leave Ontario and head out west via Wagon Train. There were 53 people, 42 horses and 13 wagons. Leaving Kleinberg Ontario, they also ran into the storm. I was lucky to get to Bond Head to witness the “train” heading north on Highway 27 heading out west.
The trip was to take four months but took eight months spread over two years, covering a distance of 3,200 miles.
They had more misadventures than grand ones with run-away horses; crashes; tornadoes and members who had enough. They were told they could never do it, which made one couple more determined to do the journey.
On Aug. 19, 1976, one lone-covered wagon arrived at the Peace River fairgrounds in the pouring rain with mud up to the horses' bellies.
They found out what our ancestors put up with to find their dream in a new country.