Snowbound in Canaan Valley: A Winter Survival Adventure to Thomas, West Virginia

It wasn’t supposed to go this way.

What started as a winter getaway to Thomas, a tiny mountain town in Canaan Valley, West Virginia, turned into the most harrowing night of our lives. Our kids - ages 10 and 6 - were in the backseat, full of excitement for snowshoeing, hot cocoa, and the promise of a cozy mountain motel. But Mother Nature had other plans.

The powerful snowstorm hit hard and fast. By the time we reached Interstate 68, it was clear we were in trouble. Traffic thinned and then disappeared completely. Word spread through the radio: the interstate was closed. We made it past Cumberland and saw the barrier dropped across the three lanes in the blizzard. We had no choice but to take the mountain backroads.

Into the White Abyss! We have driven through snow before, but nothing like this. As we turned off the main highway, it felt like we were entering another world. The snow came down in thick, blinding sheets. Visibility? Zero. It wasn’t like looking through fog or rain. It was like someone had stuffed white cotton balls over our eyes.

We had to drive by ear. It was already around 11 PM. In the whiteout of headlights in pitch-black of West Virginia backroads, we couldn’t see where the road was, or ended and the mountain dropped off. So we listened. The SVT Raptor’s tires gave subtle clues. When we heard the crunch of snow from the right shoulder, we would steer gently left. When the sound shifted again, we would veer right. Back and forth, creeping forward at 5 miles per hour, in 4-Low, a little traction provided by Nitto Trailgrapplers, praying we wouldn’t skid or end up in a ditch.

The kids were silent in the back, sensing the tension. Occasionally, the youngest asked, “Are we gonna be okay?” We swallowed our fear and said, “Of course, buddy. Just a little adventure, that’s all.”

We pushed on through a total whiteout. Snow piled up fast, and the road became nothing but a memory under it. Every turn felt like it could be the last. It was 2 AM when we finally reached our motel in Thomas. Relief washed over us as we saw the building's dim lights flickering through the storm.

The Night Gets Stranger! Our relief was short-lived. The motel parking lot was empty, and there wasn’t a soul in sight. It was a ghost motel. The door was unlocked. We went to the front desk, hoping for a night clerk. The lights were on, but the desk was abandoned. There was no bell, no phone number - nothing.

We called 911, desperate for advice. The dispatcher, her voice apologetic, told me there was no way a police officer could drive out to assist. “You’ll have to stay in your truck for the night,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”

The truck wasn’t an option. We’d already been in it for hours, and the temperature was dropping to life threatening levels. We bundled the kids in extra blankets, wondering what we’d do next.

Then, around 2:30 AM, the night got beyond strange into the surreal. A young man stumbled out of a shack near the motel. He was clearly drunk, but he noticed us right away. I flagged him down, desperate.

He grinned and said, “I know how to get you inside.”

I wasn’t sure whether to trust him, but we didn’t have many options. He grabbed a credit card from his wallet, walked to the nearest motel room, and showed us how to pop the lock with a quick slide of the card into the crack. “You’re welcome,” he said with a wink before disappearing into the snow. And thus we broke into a room in a motel!

We hurried into the room, turned on the heat, and collapsed onto the bed. The kids were asleep in minutes, and we finally let out the breaths we had been holding all night.

Morning finally arrives in Thomas. When the motel staff arrived around noon, they seemed completely unfazed by our ordeal. “Oh, you’re already in a room? That’s good,” the manager said, as if it was perfectly normal for guests to break in. We signed the paperwork, got some coffee, and stepped outside to take in the view.

And what a view it was! The Canaan Valley is incredibly beautiful, always breathtaking over numerous trips to this favorite mountain holiday location of ours. The valley is a snow-covered paradise in winter, a vast expanse of white framed by rugged mountains. Even after a night like the one we’d just survived. The valley is home to ski resorts, wildlife, and some of the best cross-country trails in the region. In the summer, it’s all about hiking and wildflowers, but in winter, it’s a wonderland.

Thomas itself is a quirky little town with a rich history. Once a coal town, it’s now a haven for artists and musicians. The Purple Fiddle, a local café and music venue, is a must-visit spot, though we admit we didn’t get to enjoy it much on this trip. Still, there’s something magical about the blend of history and creativity in this tiny settlement.

Looking back, that night was terrifying. But it was also a story we will tell for years. The kids now talk about “the time we survived the snowstorm” as if it were an adventure straight out of a movie.

Would we do it again? Not exactly. But yes, we would brave the backroads to return to Thomas. There’s something about that little mountain town - its beauty, its quiet, and its resilience - that makes it worth the journey. Even if it’s in the middle of a blizzard.