The Truth About Snow in Tucson

Arizona Daily Wildcat Illustration by Jeff Barfoot

Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale, a tale of a fateful trip, that started from this desert school aboard a tiny truck. The driver grew up in the sun, the passenger in the Nordic north, the camera chick she knew of snow, what a group us three, what a group us three. The weather started getting rough, and the tiny truck did spin. If not for the courage of the fearless three the Ranger would be lost, the Ranger would be lost. The Ranger hit the guard rail of a tiny mountain road with the highway patrol and the snow plow dude, the lost family and their phone, with the flashers on and sliding down the hill, all on top of Mt. Lemmon!

The above is the short version of the following tale of the fearful journey that three Arizona Daily Wildcat reporters endured the afternoon of Jan.14. We started our journey at the auto parts store, three fearless, yet naive with regards to snow chains, journalists off to investigate the snowy conditions on Mt. Lemmon.

Little did we know that our adventures would lead to much more than a simple snow report.

We started out much like the passengers of the S.S. Minnow (Gilligan's Island, for those non-television-watching readers) - we envisioned playing in the snow and casually interviewing Ski Valley enthusiasts.

What we should have done was turn back the moment the Highway Patrol informed us that there was an accident ahead and that the road would be closed for an hour.

We decided to wait out the accident and enjoy the snow. The truth about snow, which almost everyone knows except Alicia Caldwell, is that it is a novelty that expires in about five minutes. But she learned fast.

Our second mistake was trying to put the snow chains on the little Ford Ranger. The biggest hint to us should have been when Alicia did not know if the truck was front- or rear-wheel drive. Once again we ignored the hints of the snow gods. They knew the truth, that at least one of us was snow moron.

Once we figured out that we needed to read the directions in English and not French, we started to make some progress.

The chains were a bit loose according to the highway patrolman, who did not offer to help in any way, but what did we know about loose snow chains? He told us to have a safe trip, and we proceeded with caution up the mountain-the steep, icy and really scary mountain.

Then we came upon a fender bender of sorts. Being the ambitious journalists that we are, we ignored the hair-pin turn which caused this accident and attempted to defy God and the laws of physics and attempted to go around the car, in the opposite lane, to make the turn. During this endeavor Alicia, the Snow Moron, noticed we were beginning to lose traction and slip and slide.

At this point it was time to pass the wheel over to the Nordic North

(a.k.a. Jennifer Fitzenberger), who having experienced driving in the Minnesota Arctic, could bravely take charge of the Ranger.

We noticed that we might be in a little bit of trouble when the truck did not stop when the brake was applied, and we plummeted towards the icy cliff only to be saved by the "Hello Jesus, thank you!" guard rail.

The next problem was trying to keep Alicia from having a minor heart attack for fear of damage to her truck. That's right, she was worried about the truck, not the fact that we almost flew over the very steep cliff.

After we pulled the truck away from the cliff, Alicia decided there was a need to go and find the snow chains; after all they weren't ours, and the paper might be upset if we lost them (By the way, they were laying 20 feet behind the truck as we slid into the rail; maybe the highway patrol dude was right after all).

During all of this our photo chick, Tanith Balaban, seemed to be very calm. Her only wish at that point was to have a cigarette-it had been a rough day.

After inching down the mountain with Nordic North at the helm, the tiny truck did slip again. And again, Alicia freaked for fear of paint loss and insurance troubles.

This time, however, we were not moving away from the friendly little guard rail with the help of God. We were stuck. As if our prayers had been answered, a man named Mark (is he from the Bible?) rapped upon our window and offered to pull us out with a rope.

This required the three of us to dig a path for the tires. For lack of a better tool, Tanith and Alicia borrowed the plastic beach shovels of a family who was stranded nearby. The more we cleared, the more the road seemed to ice over again. This was not the exciting time that you may think.

Once the path was somewhat clear, the rescue attempt began. And to the surprise of us all, it actually worked. At this point our savior suggested putting on the chains again. This time he showed us how to do this so they would not fall off again and nearly cause our demise.

Now came the real decision-making moment. We had to decide if we should leave the little Ranger on the mountain and ride back to Tucson with Mark, brave the mountain road, or just wait for a snow plow. We chose number three after seeing many smaller cars traveling at high speeds down the mountain, which almost took our lives.

The snow plow came and went, and we decided to brave the death road once again. This time we made it all of 10 feet with Tanith and Alicia walking beside the truck pushing it away from the ledge. But the 2,000-pound truck won.

We were going nowhere very fast, and it was beginning to get very cold and very dark. For lack of anything else to do, we began the chorus of "Ridin' Along in my Automobile" until none of us could remember the words. Then we switched to Christmas songs.

Then the sky opened up and snowed down upon us. The snow plow dude was back, and we flagged him down. He generously showed us how to ride the emergency brake, which stopped the truck from slipping and sliding and then continued to plow the road just in front of us.

After about six hours on the God-forsaken mountain we were finally in the clear. We went, we saw, we slid, and then we left. So much for a ski report. We were just thankful for our lives and no paint loss. Thank you, Jesus. Amen!!

The preceding has been taken from actual events. None of the names have been changed for the protection of the innocent or snow morons.