Town Gives Warm Welcome During Blizzards : Community: Limon, Colo., is used to putting up strangers, and that’s lucky for the travelers who get stuck there every winter.

This Colorado town is right in the middle of the Great Plains, that vast, treeless expanse that defeated many of the 19th-Century pioneers.

In summer, Limon is just another food and fuel stop for travelers hurrying down Interstate 70 to Denver, 70 miles to the west, or to Kansas, 90 miles to the east.

In winter, when the Plains are visited by fierce blizzards that may blow for days, this town of 1,800 people--with just one stoplight and no automatic teller machine--comes alive as a haven for the stranded.

And everyone who is marooned here gets a place to stay, a blanket and something to eat.

“The thing about Limon is, if they say it’s going to snow, you prepare for a blizzard. That’s just the way we live,” said Mike Liggett, a native of the area who is mayor pro tem. “Out here, it’s bad. Drifts drift over people’s homes.”

From October until May, Limon stands ready to serve. Thousands of motorists may find themselves stranded here when blowing snow closes I-70 with drifts that may fill an underpass.

“That’s the big question: When are the roads going to open,” Police Chief Jim Trahern said. He coordinates the efforts of police, churches, the school and the Colorado State Patrol to get motorists off I-70 and safely into temporary shelter.

Trahern has trudged through waist-deep snow to deliver sandwiches to motorists waiting out the weather in Town Hall. He played referee among testy travelers and has been accused of closing the highway just to force people into the town.

Limon takes its role in stride.

“We don’t have any system,” Liggett said. “It’s gone on so many years, everybody just pitches in and knows what to do.”

In January, the highway was closed three times within eight days. On Jan. 7, after the 10 local motels were filled up, about 600 travelers were bedded down in Town Hall, the Baptist church and the school.

“I tell you, they were stranded here from noon until the next morning,” said city worker Alice Harren. “But they had a good time. Everybody left with a good attitude.”

She said that most of those passing through are skiers, and they come from all over the world. They bring with them their pet dogs, cats, ferrets, birds--even a monkey. And they often lack appreciation for the power of the elements on the Plains.

“I listen to the forecast before I get on the highway,” Harren said. “Living out here, you get into that habit. But a lot are city people and ski buffs. They want to go have their fun and aren’t concerned about the weather.”

Equipped and ready to take in up to 2,000 strangers, Limon residents face their hospitality mission with stoicism, as they do the weather.

As farmers and ranchers round up their livestock and turn a wary eye to the gray clouds, Trahern and town employees await news of I-70’s condition.

When will the highway close? What hotels have vacancies? How long will the storm last?

State and local police direct motorists first to the motels, which together can house about 750 people, Trahern said. When vacancies are gone, they are referred to Town Hall. There, city workers distribute pillows and blankets to as many as 100 people on a snowy night.

After Town Hall fills up, Trahern calls school custodians and tells them to turn up the heat and prepare for guests. As people settle on the floors of the gymnasium and two cafeterias, officials may seek lodging in private homes for elderly wayfarers and families traveling with infants.

Next in line to provide shelter are the churches.

“As soon as we can get everybody indoors, the happier we are,” Harren said.

Liggett said the bad weather isn’t all bad for this farming town, since the fast-food franchises do well during storms.

“We garner quite a few bucks during one of these things,” Liggett said. “People stranded in Limon spend their money, and that’s kinda nice.”

Liggett could not say whether the town breaks even on its hospitality; it doesn’t keep track of how much is spent to help stranded travelers. The cost is covered in the general budget, but not as a separate item.

Mostly, visitors pay for their food. The school and churches cover whatever costs they incur. The blankets and pillows are donated.

Much of the bedding now in use arrived in June, 1990, after a tornado struck the town and caused more than $19 million in property damage. The twister ripped through the downtown business section and flattened the town hall. Many Coloradans who had taken shelter in Limon in past winters figured it was their turn to help, and sent blankets and pillows.

When townspeople talk about blizzards, they’re likely to recall the winters of 1982-83 and 1983-84.

During the first winter, I-70 was closed 14 times for days at a time. It trapped Thanksgiving and Christmas travelers, who, at one time, numbered 2,000.

That Christmas Eve, local roads were so bad that police picked up cafe employees at their homes and drove them to work so they could cook for stranded travelers.

In the shelters, city workers took up collections among travelers for food. After a few days of closed highways, supplies in town were running low. Even the school’s pantry was almost depleted.

“I didn’t think we’d make it,” Trahern recalled. “I thought people will have to go hungry until the storm quit.”