The Blizzard of 2026: How an HCT staffer battled poor planning and got lucky

By Eric Williams, Harwich Conservation Trust (HCT)

The pre-storm world was so cozy on Cape Cod. Coffee was hot, beer was cold and the closing ceremony for the Winter Olympics was extravagant and thrilling. When we went to bed Sunday night, we made sure to turn out the lights, those delightful illumination devices that dance at the flick of a switch. Life was good.

All heck broke loose overnight. The power was off when we woke up, and the wind made the pine trees look like they were swaying together at a rock concert. The temperature inside the house began a not-so-gentle descent. That’s when certain realizations set in, a sudden clarity about our lack of preparation. I should have known better.

A short history of carelessness

When I first washed ashore on the Cape, Hurricane Bob was looming. But to a loopy young slacker, weather forecasts seemed about as useful as stock market reports. Just before the hurricane, my battered Toyota Celica ran out of gas in the parking lot at the Wellfleet post office. I walked home to my mother’s house and announced that I had found a safe place to store my car for the storm.

Well, she wasn’t buying it. And so, we jumped into her car and zoomed up to Jack’s Gas in Truro, one of the all-time great petroleum providers, and home to the finest delicacy in the universe: frozen Milky Way candy bars. We filled up a gas can, resuscitated the Celica and brought it back to her driveway.

Thus, my car was perfectly positioned to receive a giant locust tree when it was uprooted by the hurricane. That Celica was crushed like a can under a steamroller. On the bright side, I found some antique medicine bottles in the tree’s root ball that I still have to this day. They make nice bud vases.

You would think my glassy souvenirs would remind me to ditch the grasshopper attitude and become more like the hardworking ants in that Aesop’s fable. Those darn ants have generators and wood stoves, and they all sit around in their slippers, watching storms come and go.

But, no. Even as I supposedly matured, got married, had kids and became a homeowner, something was missing. I believe the scientific term is “common sense.” Great swaths of time would go by without a power outage, and even when they happened, the duration was pretty short. And so, I could concentrate on more important things, like Red Sox bullpen issues and finding cool stuff in the woods.

Then an October 2021 nor’easter rattled my cage. We were without power for four days in Wellfleet. The rest of my family decamped to powered friends, but I stuck it out with Melody the Wonder Cat. It got pretty cold, but not like winter. And there was a silver lining: I spent quality time with townsfolk who I hadn’t seen in years, as we filled up buckets at Long Pond to flush our toilets. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that when you have a well, power outages also knock out the water.

After that, we decided to price out some generators. One estimate was about $14,000 for a pretty swanky model that would solve all problems and butter your toast. We hemmed, hawed and forgot about it. Thus, we were almost totally unprepared for:

The Blizzard of 2026

In my dotage, I have become a weather nut. So, I saw this storm coming. Early reports had it veering out to sea, but about three days before it hit, the forecast started to sour. We scrambled to secure wood for the fireplace and stored water for drinking and flushing. The wind estimates looked particularly troublesome, but it’s so easy to have the default setting of “maybe it won’t be so bad.”

It was that bad. Though on Monday, we were able to stay pretty warm in front of the fireplace. But according to the United States Environmental Protection Agency (EPA), “generally, a wood-burning fireplace is a very inefficient way to heat your home. Fireplace drafts can pull the warm air up the chimney, causing other rooms to be cooler.”

I can vouch for that. Wet wood is also big trouble and we battled through some soggy logs. But we had plenty of food and it was exciting to watch the storm. We went to bed Monday night, thinking maybe we would wake up to power. How naive we were!

The sun was bright on Tuesday, but it wasn’t shining on us. We were able to fire up the gas-powered stovetop and make an enormous ham and cheese omelet. This gave us the courage to dig out the cars, so we decided to take a road trip to Orleans to see if we could find more wood. On the way we saw 30 cars lined up on Route 6, hoping to fuel up at the only open gas station in town.

Stop & Shop in Orleans was open, running on generator power. The frozen food aisles were blocked off with shopping carts and it was a bit dim. While I usually love grocery shopping, the chill and fatigue made me feel like a snack-seeking zombie. We bought a few Duraflame logs to inspire our wet wood, but it seemed kind of like a fool’s errand.

I spent the afternoon shoveling, aka New England aerobics. That built up some warmth for the night to come. By then, the temperature in the house was in the 40s, unless you were directly in front of the fire. We worked our phones to try and figure out an escape plan, constantly checking the Eversource outage map and conferring with friends who lived in other towns. At that point Wellfleet was nearly 100 percent powerless.

A lucky break 

Waking up Wednesday morning felt like waking up in an igloo. Although igloos are probably a lot warmer. Buried under giant down comforters, we checked our options again, hoping that something had turned up overnight. Bingo! My sister has a place in Orleans, and suddenly, Eversource was reporting that the power had been recently restored. Could it be true?

It was time for a breakout. We jumped out of bed, grabbed a few supplies and stuffed Melody into the cat carrier. Wow, the heat in the car felt good! We pulled into my sister’s place, found the key, opened the door and it was time for the moment of truth. Never has a light switch held so much meaning.

It worked — the power was on! This was a moment of pure joy and relief. But then you think about the other folks who were still battling it out without power and you feel kind of guilty. It is such a sobering event when the tendrils that connect us to comfort and civilization are snapped by a storm that doesn’t give a hoot about your heat or internet connection.

There is one beautiful thing about this frigid, frightening mess: on Cape Cod, the worst weather brings out the best in our community. People step up to help their neighbors. They share what they have and work together to get through the hard times.

I hope that by the time you are reading this, the nor’easter and all it wrought are receding in the rearview mirror, and the power is humming throughout the Cape. Maybe you’ve had a few hot showers and someone made biscuits. Maybe the shovels are back in the garage. Maybe you’re sitting down with a seed catalog, planning for spring, which is out there somewhere.

As for me, I will be wrestling with the eternal question: Can a professional procrastinator somehow change his ways and turn into a dapper prepper? I am hoping that by the next storm, I can invite everyone over to my generator-powered disco, but we’ll see.

—Sign up for HCT eNews, a great way to stay in the loop about exciting HCT events, guided walks and other interesting news.

—Your tax-deductible contributions help fulfill the mission of the Harwich Conservation Trust to preserve land that protects woods, water, wildlife and our shared quality of life. And your land-saving financial support helps us preserve beautiful properties that can become stellar trail destinations. Find out how to donate by clicking here.