“Biblical” . . . “devastating” . . . “incredible” . . . “spectacular” . . . Four words which, as with quite a few more, are routinely tossed around these days with no real justification whatsoever.
Far from exaggeration, however, they barely begin to do justice to one of the most momentous events in our history, which paralysed Britain and propelled the nation to the edge of starvation and economic disaster.
Seventy-seven years ago this month, and just two years after the Second World War had ended, the snowiest winter ever recorded in this country began. It was seven long weeks of Siberian weather before it ended.
Huge snowdrifts buried whole houses. Railways and rivers froze over, factories closed down and there was massive energy disruption and a farming crisis, with crop failures and livestock deaths on an epic scale.
Channel 5’s recent documentary, The Big Snow of ’47, revived my interest in that unique white-out and recalled my own childhood obsession with the white stuff.
Not unusually among little boys, I suspect, I even used to PRAY for snow. Whenever there was any prospect of it, I would listen to every word of the weather forecast on my Dad’s old wireless set.
Always, however – or it seemed like always – any forecast of snow heading our way would inevitably end with the heartbreaking words “except in the far south west” or “extreme west of Cornwall.”
And nine times out of ten that ended up meaning us in the Falmouth-Penryn area!
So just how, I wondered, did the district fare back in ’47. Surely it had some of that snow?
To find out, I sifted through the Falmouth Packets (usually all of four or six pages, broadsheet) of the time.
Nationally, the seven-week big freeze began on January 22 or 23, depending on which account you read, but there was no weather news in the Packet on the 24th. (Friday was publication day then.)
Come the issue of the 31st, however, WHAM!!! It was blindingly clear that, had I been a snowy-eyed boy then rather than being born two years later, I would have been convinced all my Christmases had come at once!
FALMOUTH AND DISTRICT SNOWBOUND was the Page One splash headline.
And here are just a few extracts from that report which must have run to 2,000 words or more.*
The heaviest fall of snow recorded in Falmouth since the great blizzard of 1891 took place throughout Wednesday night and yesterday morning, according to Mr W T Hooper, curator of the Falmouth Observatory. Ten inches of snow had fallen by 9 am yesterday (NB: that will have been the “carpet” depth, not the drifting – MT) and this depth was increasing as the snow fell steadily, if not heavily, throughout the morning.
The snow followed a week of exceptionally cold weather, during which the lowest temperature recorded since 1868 was reached at 9 am on Wednesday, the thermometer registering 19 degrees (Fahrenheit), with 13 degrees of frost.
Records at Falmouth Observatory were commenced in 1838 and are continuous since 1871.
The previous lowest reading that could be found during a quick survey of the records with Mr Hooper was 22.4F recorded on January 18 in the aforementioned year of the great blizzard.
The effect of the snow has been to paralyse the transport services so vital to this part of the country. Steep, narrow country roads are filled with drifts many feet deep and vital services have been suspended.
Many houses had pipes burst and frozen. Staff at shops and offices residing outside Falmouth were unable to reach their places of employment. Cattle and poultry were snowed in in country areas and considerable difficulty was experienced in feeding animals.
The majority of taxi services were cancelled. A tractor was seen delivering milk. Daily papers were received by newsagents at 3 pm yesterday. Familiar landmarks in the town presented a strange experience in their garb of white. Road sweepers and private individuals set to with spades and brooms to at least clear entrances to shops and houses.
Workmen employed by Messrs Freeman and McLeod Ltd proceeded to work through Penryn town in single file yesterday morning following a narrow pathway through snowdrifts.
Except for the ferry services, which were operating normally, St Mawes was cut off. A correspondent said residents were worried about supplies of bread, which it was stated were almost exhausted. There was a big demand for flour.
Milk was delivered by sledge by Mr W C Mitchell of Waterloo Farm. Drifts at St Mawes Castle were reported to be five feet deep.
Helford . . . was completely isolated. One adventurous resident who visited Cury on Wednesday afternoon arrived back at 4 am after a nerve-wracking journey over steep, narrow, snow-blocked and slippery roads.
The Convent at Tremough, Penryn, was completely cut off by drifts many feet in depth. The children were stated to be exceptionally happy.
The train carrying newspapers, due at Truro at 7.30 am yesterday, reached there at 12 noon, and a mail train, due at 8 am, came in at 1 pm. There was between six and nine inches of snow reported on the line between Penzance and Plymouth. At 11 am yesterday, no trains had left Falmouth.
All possible lorries were fitted with chains at the Co-operative Milk Creamery at Penryn and sent out with supplies of milk.
At Mylor, snow was over a foot deep with normal traffic at a standstill. One jeep only passed through the village yesterday morning. Farmers were having considerable difficulty in tracing and feeding livestock.
End of extracts
* All praise to the Packet journalists who compiled the report. They would have done so, from scratch, on one and the same day as their paper was going to press and would have been armed with just the phones (landlines only), notepads and typewriters, their feet and – provided they could move anywhere – their cars or bicycles. No non-stop monitoring of social media, news websites, local radio or regional TV news in those days!
Anyway, that’s how the big snow of ‘47 started for the Falmouth area. What else was in store as those historic seven weeks unfolded? Watch this space!
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