I Survived the Big Shake: My Story of Escaping an Earthquake in Nazko Cone
- Chelsie Huang
- Mar 18, 2024
- 4 min read
It was a bright summer day in 2007 when my family set off for Banff National Park. At just seven years old, I was buzzing with excitement to see the astounding sights that awaited us. Little did I know, this trip would become one of my most unforgettable memories—a high magnitude earthquake was about to shake the ground beneath my feet! Though, it was only 4.0 but it was my first time to learn earthquake.
As we drove along winding roads framed by towering mountains and vibrant forests, I couldn’t help but marvel at the scenery. The glistening lakes mirrored the rugged peaks, and colorful wildflowers carpeted the meadows. Every twist of the road brought new beauty, and my heart raced with anticipation of the adventures ahead.
Once we reached our campsite, we set up our tent right next to a crystal-clear lake. While my parents unpacked our gear, I roamed the area, pretending to be a courageous explorer venturing into unknown lands. The warm sun and the soft sounds of nature made everything feel perfect.
I spent the afternoon watching clouds lazily float by, blissfully unaware of the upheaval that lurked below the Earth's surface. Later that evening, we settled around a campfire, roasting marshmallows and sharing tales. My dad entertained us with a funny story about a bear that had nabbed his sandwich years earlier, and we all laughed until our sides hurt.
Suddenly, as we were enjoying our time, I felt the ground tremble. At first, I brushed it off as my imagination or perhaps a passing truck. But quickly, the shaking grew stronger. Trees began to sway, and my mom’s face showed fear. My heart raced as I realized this was not just some simple disturbance.
The campfire flickered, casting eerie shadows on our faces as my parents shouted for us to stay low. “Get down and cover your heads!” they urged. Confusion and fear filled me. Why was this happening? My young mind wrestled with understanding as the world around me trembled like an angry beast.
While we huddled together, I heard distant cracking noises and the rush of rocks tumbling down hillsides. I glanced at the majestic mountains that now seemed like enormous threats, and a deep fear settled in my heart. “Is this how my adventure ends?” I worried.
After what felt like an eternity, the shaking finally began to diminish. My parents carefully led us outside the tent to assess the situation. The calm that followed was both eerie and surreal. The wildlife had vanished, seemingly aware of the danger and wisely hiding away. I looked at my parents, searching for comfort, but their worried expressions showed the gravity of our situation.
In the distance, other campers emerged from their tents, displaying a mix of confusion and fear just like ours. I clutched my mom's hand tightly and asked if we would be okay. “We will be fine, Chelsie,” she reassured me, though I could still hear a quaver in her voice.
Quickly, we packed our belongings and moved to a safer area away from the mountains. We didn't want to risk being caught in another quake that could trigger falling rocks. Despite my fear, a tiny thrill of adventure surged within me. This was a real-life experience, something straight out of a thrilling storybook.
Finally, we found a flat spot clear of the towering cliffs. My parents set up a temporary safe zone, and I took a moment to breathe. I could see other families doing the same; a feeling of solidarity filled the air. We were all sharing this unsettling experience, united by our nerves and the need for safety.
As the sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, the ground had calmed. The world, though shaken, remained stunningly beautiful. I could hardly believe that just hours earlier, I had blissfully enjoyed the day unaware of the chaos to come.
That night, we fell asleep to the sound of gentle waves lapping against the shore. I felt grateful to have my family around me and thankful for our safety. This experience taught me valuable lessons about resilience and the unpredictable nature of our world. I was just a young girl who found herself in a true adventure during an earthquake. More importantly, I learned that love and support can turn terrifying moments into memories of bravery.
Reflecting on that experience, I recognized the importance of preparation and staying calm during a storm, both literally and figuratively. It was a story I would carry with me, not as one of fear, but as a badge of courage from the adventure of my childhood.
As weeks turned into months, the memory of the earthquake remained with me, shaping who I am today—a once timid girl who faced down real danger. No matter how strong the earth shakes, I know I can weather any storm, especially with my family by my side.
Sometimes, it takes a powerful jolt to remind us how precious our lives are. My time in Banff wasn’t just a vacation; it was a lesson in courage against a backdrop of breathtaking nature. I hope to inspire other kids that even in scary situations, their loved ones can be their strength and safety. I will always treasure my story of escaping the wild during an earthquake, knowing we are all braver than we think.
* * *
*Note: This is just a novel, I try to use this storytelling method to let more people remember that earthquakes may be right under our feet. We should not think that earthquakes are far away from us.
A series of small volcanic earthquakes measuring less than 4.0 on the Richter magnitude scale took place in the sparsely populated Nazko area of the Central Interior of British Columbia, Canada, from October 9, 2007, to June 12, 2008. They occurred just west of Nazko Cone, a small tree-covered cinder cone that last erupted about 7,200 years ago.
No damage or casualties resulted from the Nazko earthquakes, but local seismographs recorded them. The earthquake swarm occurred at the eastern end of a known volcanic zone called the Anahim Volcanic Belt. This is an east–west trending line of volcanic formations extending from the Central Coast to the Central Interior of British Columbia.
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