Given the widespread winter weather the last few days, I thought this somewhat long tale of a very unpleasant blizzard was fitting.
From George Ruxton:

The sky had been
gradually overcast with leaden-colored clouds, until, when near sunset, it was one huge inky mass
or rolling darkness: the wind had suddenly lulled and an unnatural calm, which so surely heralds
a storm in these tempestuous regions, succeeded. The ravens were winging their way towards the
shelter of the timber, and the coyote was seen trotting quickly to cover, conscious of the coming
storm.
The black threatening clouds seemed gradually to descend until they kissed the earth, and already
the distant mountains were bidden to their very bases. A hollow murmuring swept through the
bottom, but as yet not a branch was stirred by wind; and the huge cottonwoods, with their leafless
limbs, loomed like a line of ghosts through the heavy gloom. Knowing but too well what was
coming, I turned my animals towards the timber, which was about two miles distant. With pointed
ears, and actually trembling with fright, they were as eager as myself to reach the shelter; but,
before we had proceeded a third of the distance, with a deafening roar the tempest broke upon
us. The clouds opened and drove right in our faces a storm of freezing sleet, which froze upon us
as it fell. The first squall of wind carried away my cap, and the enormous hailstones, beating on
my unprotected head and face, almost stunned me. In an instant my hunting-shirt was soaked,
and as instantly frozen hard; and my horse was a mass of icicles. Jumping off my mule-for to ride
was impossible - I tore off the saddle-blanket and covered my head. The animals, blinded with the
sleet, and their eyes actually coated with ice, turned their sterns to the storm, and, blown before it,
made for the open prairie. All my exertions to drive them to the shelter of the timber was useless.
It was impossible to face the hurricane, which now brought with it clouds of driving snow; and
perfect darkness soon set in.
Still the animals kept on, and I determined not to leave them, following, or rather being blown
after them. My blanket, frozen stiff like a board, required all the strength of my numbed fingers to
prevent it being blown away, and, although it was no protection against the intense cold, I knew it
would in some degree shelter me at night from the snow. In half an hour the ground was covered
on the bare prairie to the depth of two feet, and through this I floundered for a long time before
the animals stopped. The prairie was as bare as a lake; but one little tuft of greasewood bushes
presented itself, and here, turning from the storm, they suddenly stopped and remained perfectly
still. In vain I again attempted to turn them towards the direction of the timber; huddled together,
they would not move an inch; and, exhausted myself, and seeing nothing before me but, as I
thought, certain death, I sank down immediately behind them, and, covering my head with the
blanket, crouched like a ball in the snow.
I would have started myself for the timber, but it was pitchy dark, the wind drove clouds of frozen
snow into my face, and the animals had so turned about in the prairie that it was impossible
to know the direction to take; and although I had a compass with me, my hands were so frozen
that I was perfectly unable, after repeated attempts, to unscrew the box and consult it. Even had I
reached the timber, my situation would have been scarcely improved, for the trees were scattered
wide about over a narrow space, and, consequently, afforded but little shelter; and if even I had
succeeded in getting firewood-by no means an easy matter at any time, and still more difficult
now that the ground was covered with three feet of snow -I was utterly unable to use my flint and
steel to procure a light, since my fingers were like pieces of stone, and entirely without feeling.
The way the wind roared over the prairie that night-how the snow drove before it, covering me
and the poor animals partly-and how I lay there, feeling the very blood freezing in my veins, and
my bones petrifying with the icy blasts which seemed to penetrate them-how for hours I remained
with my head on my knees, and the snow pressing it down like a weight of lead, expecting
every instant to drop into a sleep from which I knew it was impossible I should ever awake--how
every now and then the mules would groan aloud and fall down upon the snow, and then again
struggle on their legs-how all night long the piercing howl of wolves was borne upon the wind,
which never for an instant abated its violence during the night,-I would not attempt to describe.
I have passed many nights alone in the wilderness, and in a solitary camp have listened to the
roarings of the wind and the howling of wolves, and felt the rain or snow beating upon me, with
perfect unconcern: but this night threw all my former experiences into the shade, and is marked
with the blackest of stones in the memoranda of my journeyings.
Once, late in the night, by keeping my hands buried in the breast of my hunting-shirt, I succeeded
in restoring sufficient feeling into them to enable me to strike a light. Luckily my pipe, which was
made out of a huge piece of cottonwood bark, and capable of containing at least twelve ordinary
pipefuls, was filled with tobacco to the brim; and this I do believe kept me alive during the night,
for I smoked and smoked until the pipe itself caught fire, and burned completely to the stem.
I was just sinking into a dreamy stupor, when the mules began to shake themselves, and sneeze
and snort; which hailing as a good sign, and that they were still alive, I attempted to lift my head
and take a view of the weather. When with great difficulty I raised my head, all appeared dark as
pitch, and it did not at first occur to me that I was buried deep in snow; but when I thrust my arm
above me, a hole was thus made, through which I saw the stars shining in the sky and the clouds
fast clearing away. Making a sudden attempt to straighten my almost petrified back and limbs, I
rose, but, unable to stand, fell forward in the snow, frightening the animals, which immediately
started away. When I gained my legs I found that day was just breaking, a long grey line of light
appearing over the belt of timber on the creek, and the clouds gradually rising from the east, and
allowing the stars to peep from patches of blue sky. Following the animals as soon as I gained the
use of my limbs, and taking a last look at the perfect cave from which I had just risen, I found
them in the timber, and, singular enough, under the very tree where we had cached our meat.
However, I was unable to ascend the tree in my present state, and my frost-bitten fingers refused
to perform their offices; so that I jumped upon my horse, and, followed by the mules, galloped
back to the Arkansa, which I reached in the evening, half dead with hunger and cold.
The hunters had given me up for lost, as such a night even the “oldest inhabitant” had never
witnessed. My late companion had reached the Arkansa, and was safely housed before it broke,
blessing his lucky stars that he had not gone back with me. The next morning he returned and
brought in the meat; while I spent two days in nursing my frozen fingers and feet, and making up,
in feasting mountain fashion, for the banyans I had suffered.

Winter in the Mountains, courtesy Rocky Mountain Outfit, American Mountain Men

Brrrrrr! Great story of survival. Thanks

I wish all the people fretting over loosing power for a couple days would read this.

Great read

Makes us so grateful for what we have!

Getting buried is likely what kept him alive.

Some years back I was in WY to trap. Late January. Prime cat fur targeting primarily bobcats. Got there early afternoon and drove to the remote ranch I had permission on to talk to the owner. Blizzard came in. This ranch is remote enough there was a public school that consisted of a mobile home with two students. The teacher lived in the trailer during the week. Mail was delivered only on Thursday. When snow got bad a county man went ahead of the mail truck towing a bulldozer to open the road.

I got in a drift I could not see due to the blowing snow while heading back to where I was staying. It was getting dark and snow was blowing under my pickup faster than I could dig it out. I spent the night in a nice warm pickup. Had a few MRE's stashed in it for stuff like this. I had gone about 7-8 miles from the ranch house. Town was still about 25-30 miles away. Wind was blowing about 30 miles an hour directly in my face headed toward the ranch. I walked the whole distance backwards. I had good clothes. A parka that was heavy as the liner was a sheepskin with the wool on it.

Got to the ranch and knocked on the door. Lady of the house saw me, grabbed my lapel, pulled me inside and asked if I had frostbite. I assured her I did not.

Owner was feeding cattle. So I went to help. We got done and headed back to my pickup with a tractor and chain. Got it pulled out and I went around the drift by driving up and around a big hill the snow had blown off of. I Made it back to town but did not get any sets out the day I had planned to start.

I can not imagine trying to wait out a storm like that huddled up under a blanket.

I get a kick out of the jargon of the day. "Fingers that would not perform their offices". "Banyans suffered". And of course, one of my favorites is "tolerable" used as an adjective.

Good stuff K. Had to get a heavy shirt on to read the whole thing without getting frostbite metaphorically myself.