1947 was the year when a February snowstorm wreaked havoc in the West

At this time of year, when it seems too late for a big fall of snow, I console myself by remembering that in 1947, the Big Snow fell on February 25. I like snow, you see, and each winter I secretly hope for another such spectacular fall.

I am lucky enough to have grown up listening to a first-hand account of the 1947 blizzard. My dad lived through it. In fact, he was in his prime at the time and loved to reminisce about it. By all accounts, it was an amazing weather event, giving rise to excitement and hardship in equal measure and its impact still echoes in the Ox Mountains.

Forecast 

My dad said there had been freezing conditions for a period of about a month in advance of the actual snowfall. The landscape was burned red and the ground was as hard as concrete. There had been constant frost, freezing winds and occasional snow showers during this period. While it was little surprise that a snowfall was on its way, the real surprise was its magnitude. In a 2023 article, Irish Central paints the scene.

The snowstorm began on February 23, 1947, and continued for several weeks, with the heaviest snowfalls occurring on March 1 and March 2. Temperatures plummeted to -15°C, and the winds were so strong that they created snowdrifts up to six metres high, blocking roads and making travel impossible.

Farmers were unable to tend to their livestock, and many animals perished in the cold weather. Power lines were downed, leaving many without electricity, and water pipes froze, leaving communities without water.

Dean Ruxton, writing in The Irish Times in 2018, dug out some very interesting references to the storm and showed how people were affected by it at the time.

“Worst blizzard for 25 years hits Ireland,” is the headline on the front page of this newspaper on February 26th that year. The report is a catalogue of snowbound goods trains, blocked roads and general chaos in the face of the blanketing. Temperatures had been low for weeks, but the 12-hour deluge had been unexpected.

“It was another freak day,” a weather expert is quoted as saying. “I think I will give up trying to forecast what the weather will do.” 

Farming 

While much was made of the loss of electricity and phone contact in urban areas, it must be remembered that many parts of rural Ireland had neither service at the time. As a result, rural people who were caught out by the freak weather conditions were completely isolated and out of contact.

In his article, Ruxton takes the story to the West of Ireland and gives harrowing accounts of such isolation.

By the beginning of March, a CIÉ rescue convoy was sent from Dublin into snowbound areas in Connacht to bring provisions. The rescue team, made up of 20 men, were penetrating a route through the blocked roads to Ballina. As they passed through towns, in many cases, they were the first vehicles seen for a fortnight.

When the groups arrived at Roscommon, entire houses had been almost completely covered in snow. One worker reported stopping into one of the snowed-in dwellings in search of hot water. Inside, he discovered an entire family “in a stupor, without food or heat, and unable to move. He did what he could for them, then left for assistance, which arrived a day and a half later".

Aftermath 

There was chaos for days. Recovery took weeks and there was still snow on the ground in the month of May. My father’s account of dealing with the crisis gives some idea of how the snow storms of 1947 impacted on the farming communities in the Ox Mountain region.

He told me that when it snowed, starting on the night of February 25, it snowed for about 36 hours. The snow fell on heavily frozen ground. As soon as the massive fall settled, it was immediately whipped into a series of blizzards by high winds. My father said that this left some places as bare as the road while others were piled high in snow drifts.

At the time, he had nine of ten cows housed for the winter. Some had calved and were milking. All were being fed on dry hay so the need to water the cows daily was essential. Storage tanks around the house were either frozen over or long exhausted. In advance of the snowfall, he had driven the cows each day to the Moy, having first smashed a hole in the thick ice that covered the river from bank to bank. But now, the road to the river and the river itself was covered in several feet of snow. He cleared a path to the river, a distance of about 500 yards. He then uncovered the ice-topped river and sledged a fresh hole to expose the precious water underneath.

His next story of adventure came when he untied the cows and led them out into a white world they had never seen before. The cows were immediately overcome with a strange excitement and they frolicked and kicked and danced their way to the river, wildly out of control and completely ignoring the path that my father had spent a hard day digging out. While the novelty value was high, my father’s anxiety was higher.

His memories went on to tell of neighbours who died at the time and whose loved ones had to wait almost a month before they got to bury them. He spoke about the huge snow drifts that were packed in the outer valleys of the Ox Mountains. He described days the following May when temperatures increased and the drifts out on the mountain eventually began to melt causing the River Moy to magically flood. Carried along in the flood were the carcasses of sheep that had perished while seeking shelter from the storm in the mountain hallows that became massive tombs covered by tons upon tons of drifted snow.

Praying for snow 

Will such a snowstorm ever come our way again? It might but it seems global warming has different challenges in mind for us. We will have more heat, more rain, more floods but it seems the prospect of extreme cold and drifting snow is more and more unlikely. Even if it were to arrive now, we would be better equipped. Sure, haven’t we electricity and the phone and all sorts of modern conveniences?

I love snow. My love of it is linked in some way with my father’s accounts of the spectacular events of February and March of 1947. Snow creates novelty in our world. It’s like magic; transforming our accustomed landscape into a wonderland. To tell the truth, I often pray for another spectacular fall of snow and that is why I never give up hope until February is out.