(I'm laughing out loud at the title. I'm notoriously bad at titles. To sum up for the TL:DR folks, we got stuck on I-95S in Virginia. It was not what I would call my favorite experience, but we were completely and totally fine. Feel free to read on, but I'm recording this for my own sake more than anything, for the memories and reminders of God's provision.)
On the morning of Monday, January 3rd, the kids and I packed up Big Blue after a somewhat uncustomary visit to Maryland for the holidays. The week had held its share of challenges, apart from the weather, making the departure a little harder than normal. The forecast the night before predicted a couple of inches of snow where my parents live, with the worst of the storm hitting southern Maryland with 3-6 inches. In Maryland, this is not a major storm, especially since the temperatures had been high even as the precipitation started to fall and pre-treatment would prevent significant delays. With the weather in mind, and knowing that Sam was going to be staying behind in Baltimore for work, we went to the grocery store the night before to fill our little electric cooler with lunchmeat and fruits so we could have at least one meal on-the-go without having to stop and add time to an already-long trip.
Obviously, not leaving would have been a better option, but my kids go to school one day a week on Tuesday, and missing that is the equivalent (in my mind) of missing a whole week. We were determined to get back for that and so we set off, trusting the Maryland DOT to do their jobs and observing that the small suburban roads outside my parents house were still just wet when we left. I anticipated a longer-than-normal trip, but slow and steady was my goal.
As we set off at 9:30am, I took a picture of my parents' snow-covered home and posted on IG and FB with a quip:
The snow scared us. Heading back to Georgia.
The trek to I-95 from my parents' house was four easy miles with a stop at Royal Farms for some caffeine rations for Ben and me. As soon as we hit southbound 95, the trip truly begins. It's 600 boring miles to I-20 where we cut across South Carolina. Under normal conditions with stops for gas, food, and potty breaks, the trip takes around 12-13 hours. As expected, traffic was slower than normal, as one would hope in more treacherous conditions. There was a little bit of slush on the roads, but nothing scary to drive in. After exiting the Fort McHenry tunnel, the road conditions declined, but still I pressed on thinking even if I had to go super slow through that leg of the trip, the worst was supposed to be between Baltimore and Washington and that was nothing new, even without bad weather.
The fastest we went from that point was 30 mph. Any progress was progress though, and I pressed forward thinking only of school the next day. As the ETA on Waze kept updating later and later, I was feeling more discouraged about our decision to leave, but with each mile we progressed, I considered it that much closer to home and, in my mind, that much farther through what was supposed to be "the worst" of the driving conditions. The closer we got to Washington D.C., the worse the roads got. As we made our way around D.C. on 495, there was no more slush to be seen, only a sheet of ice. When we approached re-entry to I-95, Waze recommended every exit as an alternative to the interstate. I eyed the exit ramps that were mostly uphill and considered my precious cargo, knowing full well no one can control a vehicle driving on ice, no matter your experience driving in winter weather. We watched vehicle after vehicle attempt to exit unsuccessfully and end up sideways, blocking exits, and careening off the road. My internal monologue said "just keep going, slowly but surely" with the ever-present promise of the mess being almost behind us as we neared Virginia.
In Alexandria, VA, I spied an exit ramp that seemed passable so I decided to get off 95 and see what things were like on the secondary roads. To sum up, not better at all. The roads had about eight inches of snow on them at that point and were mostly unplowed. The way the GPS took me at the bottom of the ramp was left onto a road that crossed a very steep bridge obviously frozen over. We watched from the stoplight as people slid backward down the road on their attempts to go over it. I opted to go straight into a shopping center and ended up at a Shell station with the least threatening parking lot. Having been in the car for 3 and a half hours to go 76 miles, we got out and used the restroom, unsure when our next opportunity would be. I opted not to grab a coffee at the Dunkin' inside, a decision that would haunt me later that day. I walked out to the pump and cringed at the $3.86/gal pricetag (at home gas was at least a $1/gal cheaper). We'd only used about a quarter of a tank, but since we were stopped and the future was unpredictable, I went against my instincts to be cheap and topped it off. Abby got to work making sandwiches and fed everyone lunch in the backseat.
We snaked around the little town trying to find passable roads en route back to the interstate. I considered my options: (1) turn around and go back to White Marsh, (2) stop wherever I was and look for a place to stay, (3) press on. We had already invested hours on homeward travel, and I was still convinced the worst of it was right where we were. The businesses at that exit were dark, and the parking lots snow-covered. I couldn't fathom even finding a hotel in those conditions. I audibly prayed as we made our way up and down a few questionable hills. We passed an on-ramp for 95S, another uphill ice rink. Three cars were already blocking it, disabled and sideways, and as we made the decision not to go up it, we watched another car coming down the ramp from the interstate. Things were looking bleak. By sweet Providence, a snow plow turned in front of us at a stop light and we followed it to an entry onto 395S which I considered a win. Time, of course, would determine that was a lie. The remainder of Monday beginning at 1:36pm yielded a total of 24 miles.
At 4:30pm, we got stopped near Triangle, watching the sun set and the roads turn into 4-inch thick ice-skating rinks. We began watching the VDOT twitter page for updates on accidents. We could see across the interstate median that the situation northbound was absolutely no different than the parking lot southbound. The few exits we passed in those short miles were in no better shape and clogged with disabled vehicles, making exiting or turning northward unfeasible. It seemed our only option was to carry on and so we did. Watching the semi-trucks next to me continue to slide wherever their weight carried them after coming to "a stop" was about as unsettling as reality could be in that moment, but no better picture to describe the reason I was absolutely terrified. I verbalized to my kids that I would do everything I could to drive safely and carefully and to be frank that wasn't much when you're on ice, but what everyone else did was completely out of my control. And that's why I was scared. I probably said too much in my attempts to keep myself calm.
As long as I can keep even one tire on pavement, I'll feel better. As long as I can keep creeping and not stop, I'm good. As long as I can get to the top of this hill, I know I can get down the other side. At least we're loaded down with as much traction as possible with this van full of who-knows-what from Grandmom.
Sam was on the phone with me for the bulk of the day, the contractor he was working for having told him not to come in due to inclement weather. He was, as always, the voice of calm and reason. I felt almost worse for him than us because of how helpless he felt. I put on my brave face for my kids, who clearly saw right through it, but I always broke down when Sam got on the phone. He's my safe place, and it's hard to be vulnerable in secret when you're on speaker phone in a giant van with eight kids listening in. The gravity of the situation settled in when we crept along with the sight of the Marine Corps Museum remaining in our view for hours. Sam would ask for an update and I would resist telling him. Memories of stranded motorists in Atlanta ran through my head from years prior, an event which made a laughingstock of the south in a scant snowstorm that crippled the interstates for days. I just kept thinking that Virginia, by snow standards, is decisively not Atlanta, and they have means of pretreating roads. I further thought over and over again, "This is a colossal failure by the state of Virginia. It shouldn't be like this." I was mentally preparing myself for a night on the interstate. For me, imagining the worst case is a coping mechanism. Reality is rarely as bad as I'm capable of imagining. And, in truth, it really wasn't.
By 7:30pm, we were stopped for what would become the entire night about a third of a mile past Exit 143 in Garrisonville, VA. The next exit was three miles south. When we passed 143, it was closed due to a combination of untreated roads and disabled vehicles. The stretch beyond the exit was so unnerving due to the plummeting temperature, icy conditions, and hills that my nerves were completely shot. It was literally a relief to come to a stop.
On the bright side, my kids got to see me scared and praying audibly because there was nothing else I could do but pray and plead. At this point, I need to give full credit to all eight of my passengers because they were absolutely awesome. I'm sure they could sense my anxiety. I'm sure some of them were unaware of how very few miles we'd actually traveled and were quite tired of being in the van already. I'm also sure they really are good kids. I don't want to forget all of the sweetness of those hours stranded together. For a spell, Ben attempted an uncharacteristic optimism in Sam's absence to keep my spirits up. Abby worked her magic to keep the younger children entertained and not crying. Noah, Hannah, and Zachary took turns napping. Noah did not get carsick or ornery. Sarah and Leah were just their normal, good selves. They took care of me more than I took care of them.
A few things I wish to remember:
- Thanks to Noah's history of carsickness, we routinely pack a barf bowl/hurl holder/puke pot/vomit vault. We've fine-tuned the receptacle over the years and landed on an 8-cup measuring cup with a handle. While he did not need to use it for puking, the rest of the family was able to use as a makeshift toilet. Inglorious, yes, but necessary. For the record, no one needed to go number two. (I've been asked, and I may as well answer.)
- Thanks to a combination of a grocery run and my mother's desire to send all of the junk food in her house with us when we leave, we had no shortage of food to eat. Not Whole 30 or anything, but we definitely did not starve.
- While driving on ice and driving on dirt roads are not the same, I applied some similar principles Sam taught me in an attempt to stay a little safer. I could hear his refrains echoing in my ear: "Whatever you do, keep moving. Don't come to a stop." (And so on.)
- Around 9pm, Sam suggested that I put out some feelers on Facebook for anyone who might have connections near Stafford, VA. Though we were stuck, there was hope we could start moving at any time, at which point a driveway to park in for the night and maybe a legitimate bathroom would have been absolutely amazing. The outpouring of concern and offers of help were above and beyond. I had multiple friends offer me hotel rooms with their points. I had a friend searching tirelessly for a solution, even tracking down a friend of a friend within miles of us (if only we'd been able to move) that was literally offering to open her home to all of us with beds enough for everyone. She also called the hospital at the next exit and got permission to park there for the night (which became our goal, had we been able to get rolling). I had a friend who lives in Virginia offer to drive to the nearest exit and walk provisions to our car. I had friends I hadn't spoken to in years reach out with encouragement, concern, and prayers. God sustained my spirits through prayers and the tool of social media which I have so often wanted to scrap altogether. When I think back, even now weeks later, I'm overwhelmed with gratitude at the love we were shown.
- Determined to stay awake in case we started moving, I finally decided to turn Waze back on around 1am. (I had turned it off because the ever-increasing ETA was depressing.) Someone on map chat said they'd walked the entire length from exit to exit to see what was going on and multiple semis had slid together blocking the entire interstate with no hope of being moved likely until daylight. The truck drivers were all sleeping, so I was able to give myself permission to close my eyes and sleep.
- The entire time we were parked, a total of 16 hours, we were never low on gas. We were able to keep the van running and our bodies warm despite the temperatures in the teens. It was 16 degrees overnight. We had a lot of blankets and body heat, but grateful we were never without heat. Furthermore, grateful we did not have to walk out of the situation like in Atlanta. I packed only my well-worn, slip-on, knock-off Toms for the trip with a hole in them no less, and those would not have fared well on an icy hike.
- I really did not do anything in particular to keep us occupied or pass the time. We couldn't stream anything like audiobooks or music or movies because phone service was in and out. (I guess everyone else was already watching Netflix.) What I did do was allow them a whole lot of tablet time because I'd had the foresight to charge them all the night before we left knowing we had a big trip ahead. Parenting win or loss, depending on your perspective.
- When we started to get low on water the next morning, our big kids took turns trekking over well into the median to grab water bottles full of fresh snow. Bekah enjoyed it by the handful from her perch in between the front seats.
- Rebekah woke up screaming from her car seat around 1:30am. Given my opportunities to snuggle with her are growing increasingly more rare, we managed to squeeze together in the driver's seat for a couple of fitful hours of sleep. Then, together, we watched the sun rise over the snowy horizon. I can probably count on one hand the number of sunrises I've seen in my life. It was breathtaking. (But I'm still partial to sunsets.)
As the morning progressed, we watched the sun begin to melt the ice ever-so-slightly, despite the temperatures still in the upper teens and 20s. (And goes to show how pre-treatment would have totally changed the situation.) We watched the double-long Amazon truck get UNstuck from it's uphill perch on the northbound lane. We started becoming a little more optimistic. Sam found us a hotel room in Fredericksburg off Route 1 which seemed to be cleared from all information we could find. We were exhausted, but hopeful to be out of the situation before another night came. Having a destination seemed to revitalize us.
We received a text message from some sort of emergency alert system around 9:30am saying that crews were working to get vehicles unstuck and that they were coming up and down the interstate going vehicle to vehicle to make sure everyone had water and supplies. We never saw anyone, and we didn't need anything, but I hope they were really doing this and that people who actually needed help were able to get some. It did help to know that we weren't simply waiting and that work was being done to get things moving.
And move, we did. At 11am, we finally began the 3-mile trek to the next exit. It was 30 and sunny. Roads still coated with ice, and only when we were almost off, did we finally see any plows clearing the way. Lanes were non-existent, every vehicle was doing the best they could to not get stuck. We passed multiple tractor-trailers that had jack-knifed or were simply stuck spinning wheels. We watched a rogue truck driver with seeming reckless abandon scoot past everyone in the treacherous left lane, only to realize he was singlehandedly stopping at all of the other disabled trucks to try to help them. He was literally pouring jugs of salt under their wheels and bashing ice on the road by the tires with a giant wrench. Once dislodged, he'd pop on down the road to the next disable vehicle. It was a sight to behold. His kindness, resourcefulness, and willingness to help moved me to tears. (Even if, later on down the road he would verbally assault me at a stoplight for getting too close to a vehicle I did not realize was abandoned. I'm over it because we were literally all exhausted.)
The moment we got off the interstate, the conditions of the roads were instantly better. By 2pm, we had made it to our hotel. The parking lot was an icy mess, but we were not daunted. We trekked up the hill through the foot of snow to find out their computer systems were down and they told me to check back in a little while as they were having it worked on. We used the lobby restroom (HALLELUJAH!), grabbed some complimentary coffee, and went back on the road to discover that most of the businesses in Fredericksburg were without power. No computer system was a small problem to have by comparison.
We landed at a Taco Bell for a feast of Taco Party Packs and chips & cheese. There were no leftovers.
We passed some time by building a snowman to assuage my guilt over having rushed off and not letting them play in White Marsh and not letting them play on the side of the interstate.
After Taco Bell, wiper blade replacements at Autozone, and a few groceries at Weis, we returned to the hotel where I filled out the necessary paperwork to confirm that I did indeed have a reservation despite their ability to verify on their computer. Then, in what felt like an episode of American Gladiators with physical and verbal assaults flying from a lobby full of disgruntled, miserable folks, we got the second to last room in the hotel for my crew, and in an uncharacteristic move, I went about as Mama Bear as I get when they attempted to give it away out from under me. Bless those workers though. They came in from homes with no power, bringing their kids with them and attempted to serve a host of angry folks. They did everything they could. Thank the Lord we got a room. Plan B would have been another night in the van in the parking lot or a little more trekking down Route 1 to Richmond. We all agreed that was the best shower and night's sleep we could remember.
The next morning, we got on the road.
The last order of business was a stop for gas. Unfortunately, all the nearby gas stations were out from the influx of travelers down Route 1. I looked at my gauge, and Ben noted that we exactly a quarter of a tank in reserve - the very same amount of gas I almost decided not to top off two days prior at that first Shell station. I almost cried (again). God is good. That quarter of a tank got us to Richmond where the gas stations were fully stocked, and the roads were perfectly clear like nothing had ever happened, a mere sixty miles from where we were stuck.
The rest of the day went like any other trip home with the added bonus of Ben taking a long turn at the wheel. We were so grateful to get back to Georgia safely.
We arrived home around 10pm that evening to a home that had been "broken into" by dear friends who left us food in our fridge. And another friend who had breakfast delivered to us the next morning. We are so, so grateful to be surrounded by such an awesome community of loving, kind people. To God be the glory.
(Let's not do that again.)
Imagined up by
