Since we moved to Townsend in 2002, memorable weather events have occurred. Longtime year-round residents like Jon and his Big Door Prize (me) have acclimated to the moods of Mother Nature, but there can be challenging surprise arrows in her quiver.
When you’ve lived on the land and in the woods as we have all our lives, you know climate change is real. What is also apparent is that the Earth Mother does not like what human beings are doing to her. She routinely stages rain, snow and wind events to remind us who’s boss.
These “rehearsal” storms test our mettle and keep us prepared for the big ones. The latest monster happened in mid-March when Blizzard Elsa dumped 34 inches here. As if that wasn’t bad enough, hurricane strength winds whipped the snow into 10-foot banks. We were literally snowed in.
Even as the storm raged, valiant snowplow drivers braved blizzard conditions to keep the main roads passable. With grit and determination, they enabled vehicle access to those who had to venture out. Alas, some foolhardy folks who should not have been on the roads ignored the authorities.
Their idiocy meant courageous public servants had to rescue travelers who ignored explicit orders to stay home. I will never understand why irresponsible individuals endanger rescue crews who are on duty for life-threatening emergencies that happen at the worst possible time.
Another extraordinary group of Elsa responders were the power crews who worked in blinding snow, hellacious winds and killer cold. Here at Otter Run, we never lost electricity, but that’s probably because our power lines were buried years ago. Thank you, WPS.
When the storm concluded, residents did what they always do: pitched in to help clean up. Volunteers with plows, snowblowers and shovels dug out neighbors, friends and strangers. Abundant sunshine helped immensely by melting most of the 34 inches that fell. That proves my beloved father-in-law was right. “Don’t worry about that frozen white stuff. The same guy who put it there will take it away.”
Blizzard Elsa ranks with another weather event that occurred at 4:30 p.m. June 7, 2007, when an EF-3 tornado touched down 5 miles south of Townsend. That wicked storm left behind a path of destruction almost a mile wide. When it was safe, Jon and I took a drive down Highway 32 to the Town of Riverview.
Wherever we looked, there was basically nothing left. A national forest pine plantation was leveled. The town hall and fire department were essentially blown away. Commercial businesses were reduced to rubble, and nine homes had extensive damage. I stood in shock as tears rolled down my cheeks. It was like a war zone.
The immediate devastation was shocking, but Riverview’s response showed the resilience of our neighbors to the south. The town built a beautiful new municipal services center. Business owners reinvested in the community. Residents rebuilt and repaired their homes. Even the land and the forest have healed. Though the terrain has a very different face, it’s still wild and beautiful.
Elsa also brought to mind another epic storm that occurred in northern Oconto County on July 19, 2019. With tornado sirens screeching, Jon and I sought shelter in our lower-level family room. I checked Sparky, the Weatherbug widget that displays the presence of lightning.
“Look at this, honey,” I said. “It’s beautiful; like a starburst.”
What was I thinking? That lightning was embedded in a storm called a derecho, which the weather service said contained a “blowdown.” Well-named. Straight-line westerly winds exceeding 80 mph blew down tens of thousands of trees in the Northwoods. We were lucky. Our home is partially built into a hill and faces southeast so the winds basically blew over us.
When the storm had passed, we ventured out to check the damage. Dozens of trees lay sprawled across the driveway and our half-mile gravel access lane to Nicolet Road. With no power and no way out, we went to bed. The next day, we cut our way out to Nicolet.
Power lines and huge trees lay across the asphalt. Trees were snapped off, many down on houses and garages sporting newly caved-in roofs. Trees and power lines were twisted around each other. It was like the day after the end of the world. I sat down on the pavement and wept. Yet seven years later, the town and forest are healthier than ever.
Natural disasters force us to revisit an often-unappreciated reality. It doesn’t matter where you live. You cannot survive without dedicated public employees, committed private sector workers and willing volunteers. They are heroes and should be the ones making millions instead of athletes who drop a perfect pass or let strike three sail by without swinging the bat.
Kathleen Marsh is a lifelong educator, writer and community advocate. She has published eight books, four on the history of Townsend, where she and husband Jon are happily retired on the beautiful Townsend Flowage.
