Sit back and listen: I’m going to tell you a story about one of the scariest drives of my life.
But I swear this long story has a point at the end!
With my ultra in Page, Arizona, I had debated driving versus flying. Since Will wasn’t unable to come, he was heavily encouraging me to fly, thinking that it would be easier on me. However, the closest airports were in Las Vegas or Phoenix, both of which were a four hour drive from Page. To me, it was a no brainer: why would I drive four hours just to wait in an airport and then sit on a plane? Denver to Page was a solid 10-hour journey but I looked at the road trip with anticipation: lots of time to listen to my favorite podcasts and view some spectacular scenery!
The drive to Page was uneventful and I enjoyed beautiful views and bluebird skies as I took the long way through the San Juans in southwestern Colorado. However, I knew my return trip was going to be different as I checked the weather immediately after finishing the Antelope Canyon race. A huge blizzard was predicted across the majority of Colorado, and there was no way to really drive around the storm. I opted out of the quicker route along I-70, knowing that the highway traverses some of the biggest passes in Colorado. Traffic is terrible on the 70 on good days so I knew that a blizzard would essentially shut down the road. Instead, I chose a route through southern Colorado, rationalizing that the storm would be lesser down that way.
Wrong.
Heidi and I woke up to a freezing rain in Page the morning after the race and I knew I was in for a tumultuous day. We said quick goodbyes and she headed back to Phoenix and I began my trek back north. And at first, everything was fine. Sure, it was drizzling and cold in Page, but it was no big deal; I just felt bad for the 100-milers still running! I continued my drive northeast, eventually crossing the Four Corner area and heading into Durango. It was around here that I realized this was a serious storm: big, fat snowflakes fell from the sky and a thick fog hindered my visibility. Still, the roads weren’t that bad. As a Colorado native, I’m a confident driver in snow and ice and I trust my AWD Subaru Outback. I reasoned that as long as I drove slowly, I’d make it home delayed, but without any problems.
The roads stayed snow packed but easily manageable as I navigated my way from Durango to Bayfield to Pagosa Springs. I stopped at a gas station in Pagosa Springs to use the restroom, and quickly texted Will and Heidi to let them know where I was and that everything was fine thus far. Why is this important? Because it would later serve as a timestamp for how long the next section lasted!
Recycled photo from my Toyota loaner a few weeks ago. PC: Will Rochfort
From Pagosa Springs, Highway 160 continues west as it tours up and over Wolf Creek Pass, home of the famous Wolf Creek Ski Area. Without fail, Wolf Creek annually receives more snow than any other resort in Colorado. And as I began climbing the pass, I realized it was living up to its reputation. The snow was heavily falling and the line of cars in front of me was driving slower and slower by the second. As our conga line of cars crept towards the summit, visibility grew worse and it eventually got to the point where all I could see was the car in front of me.
I was nervous at this point but there was nothing I could do. The ski area is at the top of the pass, but nothing else is up there. I had to drive down either the back side or the front side, so I figured I might as well keep pressing forward. And I was doing fine– until a semi truck crested the summit and began sliding into me.
To be fair, it wasn’t like the truck actually came near me and I’m obviously okay. But as I rounded the corner and saw that massive vehicle sliding across the road, towards my little vehicle, I experienced a moment of panic. What in the hell would happen to me if that truck broadsided me on icy roads?!
To get out of the way, I gunned my engine and zipped around him, thankful for my AWD tires that stuck to the road like glue. I wanted to glance behind me to see if the semi managed to control his vehicle, but I didn’t have time. As I crested the summit and began descending, I was hit smack in the face with a solid wall of whiteness. I couldn’t see a thing!
I’ve driven in plenty of whiteouts before but this one was different to me. Not only could I not see the road, but I couldn’t see cars in front of me, headlights, lines on the road, or even the guard rails indicating the huge drop down the mountain. In that single moment, I became terrified. I was essentially driving with my eyes closed only I knew there were other vehicles on the road. I wanted to stop the car but I knew someone equally blind would likely smash into the back of me. So, I pressed on, driving blindly.
To me, driving in the snow is all about speed, so I stayed at a low speed as I dropped my car into manual mode, allowing me to engine brake down the entire mountain. Y’all, I was seriously going 5-10 miles per hour! I even turned on my flashers so cars behind me could maybe see the back of my car. However, things went from bad to worse when I realized the cold and wet conditions were screwing with my windshield wipers; they were frozen. My window of visibility grew smaller and smaller on my windshield as my wipers turned into solid blocks of ice, smearing water around but effectively doing nothing. It got so bad that I finally rolled down my window and hung my head outside, hoping for better visibility. I wanted to stop but I didn’t dare. There were no pull-offs and I couldn’t stop in the middle of the road. Someone would hit me for sure!
This continued for a solid 30 minutes until I finally crept passed a pull-off on the road. It was filled with other cars, all the drivers doing the same thing as me. I banged my wipers and tried to clear them as best as possible before persisting down the pass. However, the wipers continued to freeze and I had to stop my car every ~10 minutes to clear off the ice. I stopped in a tunnel, I stopped in the middle of the road, and I stopped in the passing lane. At that point, everyone was in survival mode, and we were all in it together.
To make an already long story short, I made it down Wolf Creek Pass–eventually. As I finally crept into the tiny town of South Fork, I spotted a hotel on the right side of the road and immediately pulled in.
The hotel’s parking lot was filled with snow and hadn’t been plowed, leaving no less than 8-10″ of thick snow filling the parking lot. Again, my Outback handled it fine but I was clueless as to where the “real” parking lot was. I finally just pulled out of the way, put my car in park, and let go of the steering wheel.
And burst into tears.
I was so thankful to be off the pass yet the pure terror was very real in my mind. It had taken me 4.5 hours to go 42 miles and my heart rate felt every single minute of the stress. I called Will, crying my face off, and he about lost it when he picked up the phone. Apparently my fear was evident in my voice {along with the sobbing} and he thought something had happened to me. I finally calmed down enough to tell him what happened and where I was. Naturally, as I was describing my situation, a car slid off the road in front of me, landing in the ditch of snow. It was still there the next day.
My poor car after I came back from buying my Lunchable
It was obvious I wasn’t going anywhere although, like an idiot, I still considered it. I wanted so badly to be home with Will, and I knew tons of friends were flying into Denver in 48 hours for our bachelor/ette weekend. However, it was obviously unsafe to be on the roads so I went inside the hotel and got the last room available. And to add insult to injury, the only restaurants in town had closed because of the blizzard, so I was stuck eating a Lunchable for dinner!
{Not what my raging metabolism wanted the day after the race!}
One would think that I’m sharing this story as a lesson to the hazards of solo travel. However, I’m doing it for the opposite reason. It’s been a long time since I was that scared or uncomfortable and I will admit that I felt beyond lonely in the hotel room that night, eating my Lunchable and watching trashy TV. But you know what? It was good for me.
Yes, it was terrifying but it confirmed my belief in my own independence. I didn’t like the drive but I handled it on my own. And yes, I was near tears but I had the inner strength to pull it together and not collapse under crisis. I’m proud of myself for both of those reasons!
{As an aside, this blizzard was the beginning of huge snowmageddon that hit south central Colorado. Thirty inches of snow fell during my 48-hour driving window. In the end, they ended up receiving 100″ of snow in ten days…and I got home the following evening.}
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