Is it behind us, now?

It will be good to see the end of March. March is a cruel month in Nova Scotia. It always has been. It's the month when, in 1900, the South Shore had one of the worst storms on record, with hurricane-force winds destroying wharves and breakwaters along the coast, blowing vessels ashore and rain flooding homes and businesses.

In March of 1902 rain fell for five solid days, with the Mersey, Medway and LaHave Rivers overflowing their banks. People said that never in recorded history had the rivers been so turbulent. The next year rain and wind cleared ice out of the rivers early and brought the scourge of mud to the towns, the ladies having to haul up their skirts and the men having to roll up their trousers. Roads were described as veritable mud baths (in case you want to complain about today's pot holes).

There was so much snow in February and March of 1905 that trains were unable to run for almost two months, and it wasn't until the end of March that the tracks were cleared between Liverpool and Halifax. Men from towns and villages set to and cleared parts of the tracks themselves, and up in the Valley the Dominion Atlantic Railway publicly thanked the professors, teachers and students of Acadia, Horton Academy and other schools for their help in clearing the lines.

The first train from Halifax in almost two months pulled into Bridgewater and Liverpool on Wednesday, March 29. It was a freight. Two days later a passenger train left Liverpool on the first regular run to Halifax since the snow blockade began, only to derail near Blockhouse, with all of the cars but the engine being thrown from the tracks. The passengers were said to be alarmed but unhurt.

I don't mean to imply that all of the bad March weather happened a century ago. The wettest day in the history of the city of Halifax occurred on March 23, 1972, with 90.2 mm of rain bucketing down. There was a blizzard on March 19, 1976, but the next day it was warm, over 15 degrees Celsius.

In 1984, Friday, March 9 was the last day before March break. My wife and kids were already in Toronto, visiting family. I was working at the schools in North Queens, as vice-principal, and we were worried because of warnings of a big storm on the way. At two in the afternoon, word came that the storm had started in Shelburne County, next door, and that schools there were shutting down early.

As soon as the busses left our schools, the principal, Dave Winaut (who lives in Liverpool now) and I headed for our cars, the first flakes of snow in the air. He also was heading for Toronto. When we got to Bridgewater, the snow was swirling around, but we made good time until we got on the highway between Halifax and the airport. By then there were whiteouts and high winds.

We made it to the airport. We got seats aboard Flight 639. Outside, the storm got worse and worse, and before long it was announced that the flight was cancelled. We got into line to find out about flights the next day, but Air Canada had no real interest in our plight, the man behind the desk grudgingly putting us on a flight out the next evening. He told us to go home, even though the blizzard was raging outside and it would have been suicide to face the storm.

By now everything was cancelled and incoming flights were being diverted to Moncton. We bought some magazines and staked out space in the upper lounge, joining hoardes of others on the floor, some of them families who had come in off the highway seeking shelter. The lights were dimmed but the kiosks stayed open all night.

We got up at four and had our names placed on a standby list for Toronto, only to discover a couple of hours later that there was no such list. We raced to the departures area to find one flight just leaving, but got first in line for a flight out at 1:15. As we waited, people behind us were called forward and given the extra seats. We made our case, over and over, and finally were given the last two seats, the clerk saying he hoped we wouldn't mind, but they were first class seats. A man behind us shouted that he would pay double for those seats.

Take-off was rough, as the last of the storm moved through, but once in the air the stewardess brought us glasses of champagne, followed by scallop and steak dinners, topped off by Irish cream liqueurs. After that storm, you could really appreciate first class travel.

- Tom Sheppard can be reached at twsheppard@gmail.com