Blizzard of Sand

The winds had been wicked for four or five days in a row, gusts to 50 or 60 MPH.  Our heading via motor home is easterly towards Rochester by early May.  We have been driving long distances each day, the high winds tiring us out with the effort of staying centered in the lane.  Our location, Interstate 40 through Flagstaff, Arizona heading east scheduled to reach the Flying J gas station in Winslow, AZ with an assumed 1/4 tank of gas upon arrival. 

The winds continued with  such vengeance, whipping at our awnings, rocking us almost boat fashion, blowing sand in swirls and sweeps,  tumbling tumbleweed brushing across the highway in our path.  We were 21 minutes from Winslow, mid afternoon and Paul had just taken the wheel.  In the distance the sky was filled with sand, reducing the sunshine to a misty light.  The traffic ahead was congealing, red brake lights flashing.  We came to a full stop.  We could see flashing emergency lights ahead of us and the signs for the coming rest area, now closed in Arizona’s desperate response to the economic downturn.   

Time passed, we tried to shelter ourselves along side large trucks in the right lane, but our awnings continued their threat to come undone in the high winds and we rocked and swayed, as one trucker on the CB declared, he was “going to be seasick.”  An official in a truck drove down the left side of the highway updating everyone that there was indeed a multi car/truck accident and that the road was closed due to the accumulation of sand.  It could mean many hours of waiting.

NPR  reported the forecast  that the winds were due to cease in a couple of  hours, that officials had been escorting travelers through the sandstorm, but they ceased that operation and completely closed the  sand-filled road.  17 miles of Interstate 40 were closed from Winslow westward and traffic was being diverted from the highway.  Some 4 wheelers drove over the median heading westerly, but we are indeed in the “boondocks” near Meteor Crater and Two Guns, locations without services available.  Rumors passed up and down that we’d be here until 8:00PM, 10:00PM, Midnight. 

Ironically, in the sky ahead were two contrails “marking” an X over the rest area, the trouble spot ahead.  

Stuck on the road in a motor home offers many advantages, a rest room, kitchen and room to get up and stretch the legs.  Many 4 wheeler drivers risked the winds to stretch or walk or walk into the desert to “pee.”  3 hours after stopping, I made a simple dinner—the end of Pesach, matzah and omelets, not the planned finishing meal.  More waiting, more rumors.  At 8:15, red tail lights were lighting.  We were being escorted down the road, picking up speed, the winds still blowing, but at a lesser speed. 

Traffic moved on its own after a few miles and we arrived in the Flying J.  We filled the gas tank, not desperate for gas but happy to be here and then parked for the night.  We shared stories with other travelers, heard the tale of ripped awnings and other adventures and settled down for the night.  We were packed tight together, but the swaying in the wind had stopped.  The blizzard of sand provided yet another adventure to impact our dreams.