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What were you thinking?
Great story Mark, I guess we could on and on with our winter adventures!:o)) I know we're getting a little out of the topic (this thread started its life here -- but was moved as per the suggestion of Gen to this topic!), but it's so much fun to remind ourselves of those stories...Now that they're behind us and we can laugh at them!:-) Here's another one :Finally, I was able to grab onto the tire, and pull myself hand-over-hand to the mirror support and then gradually upright -- it was like a bad Grouch Marx routine.
The rest of the evening was OK -- but yeah, ice storms can be amazing.
About 8 years ago, I heard that there was an orthodox Russian community living near the VT border in a secluded area near Mansonville, Qc. They apparently built a gorgeous small orthodox church in the middle of nowhere. It was the middle of February when I heard about it. I decided to go check it out anyway.
I was going to have dinner with a friend in Sherbrooke and I had a couple of hours in front of me to get there. So I decided to go find the church. It was getting dark, but I managed the find the church and the monastery. Very impressive!
The narrow dirt road that was leading there was icy and covered with a thin layer of snow. The road was going a little bit further and I decided to check it out. There were absolutely no tire tracks anywhere. I should've known what was coming. On my way back to the church, there was a hill. It wasn't very steep but there was a sharp curve right in the middle of it, meaning : I couldn't speed up to make it to the top. The rear of my car got stuck in a pile of snow.
I got out of the car and fell down of my knees. The minute after I was laying down at about 50 feet of my car at the bottom of the hill. I only had some fancy boots on with high heels, no winter hat and no gloves!
In order to climb that hill back to my car, I had to take off my boots and walk in the snow by the side of the road, because even when there was a lot of snow, my boots would slide on the ice under it. I got back to my car and tried everything I could : shovel, traction aid, nothing would do. Each time I had to go from my trunk to the front seat, I had to grip the doors handles or the doors themselves.
Finally, I decided to try to get some help. I had no cell phone at the time and there's no signal whatsoever in that area anyway. I used traction aid to pull myself up to the top of the hill. On my way there, I didn't see any houses nearby, only that monastery. I prayed there was someone in there with a phone. It was getting very dark, the moon was rising and I couldn't help but thinking about those horror movies I saw as a teenager.
I knocked at the door and rang the bell (an actualt bell with a rope). Nothing. I heard something in the garage so I went in there. It was creepy. Boom, a big yellow cat jumped on the hood of a car. My heart was racing. No one in there.
So I got back on the road and tried to see if there was another place I could go to. I finally located something that looked like a house, although I couldn't see any front door. There was some light inside. The driveway hasn't been taken care of and there was about 2 feet of snow. I didn't mind. I stepped in there with my fancy boots and fine fabric pants and went around the house. I knocked on the door.
An old man with a long white beard stared at me through the window. Suddenly, I wished I never knocked on his door. That guy was a serial killer for sure or belonged to some kind of sect. Now let's hope he doesn't speak only Russian. He opened the door and I was so nervous I asked him in English "do you speak English". He said in French "no but I speak French". Whew, what a relief. I was a mess, my hair was wet, my mascara was leaking, my pants were covered with dirty snow, my hands were bleeding and my jacket had some questionable stains.
I explained the situation, he let me inside to call the towing. I met his lovely wife who was born in Paris. They had the most complete French books collection I have ever seen (not in number, but in diversity). I asked him about the community. He told me he was a "white father", meaning he was the only one who could be in contact with the rest of the world and who could get married, plus he provided me with a great deal of other informations about the religion itself. He invited me to come back and visit the church which I gladly did a few months after. It was a great privilege since the public (and especially women) is never allowed into that church.
When I got to my friend's house for dinner she was discouraged but not surprised. She just said "what were you thinking going to that place at dark in the middle of February?" I'm just curious I replied. Needless to say that ever since I always carry a hat, gloves, scarf and my cell phone with me when travelling during the winter.
Gen
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