The weather forecast and my travel itinerary for Nov. 6, 2008, seemed to be on a collision course. My final destination was Bismarck Municipal Airport in central North Dakota. But judging by The Weather Channel's morning projections for the early-season blizzard blowing south and east across Saskatchewan, I figured I'd get as far as the Minneapolis airport before I'd be stranded for a day or two.

But what could I do? I had a plane ticket to Bismarck and a booking to hunt waterfowl for five days with Tim Frantz of Coteau Lodge in Goodrich, N.D. The sky was clear and blue as I drove to Harrisburg, Pa., International Airport for my departure. Blizzard warning or not, I was going.

The flight to Minneapolis was as smooth as glass. Upon leaving the jet way, I quickly checked on the status of my connecting flight to Bismarck. I was quite surprised to read "On Time" on the video screen.

An hour later, I was buckling my seatbelt on a plane, listening to the pilot say he expected high winds and clouds as we flew west to Bismarck. But he made no mention of snow.

"I guess The Weather Channel was off," I said to the man seated next to me. "I thought I'd surely get stuck here because of the big blizzard."

I snoozed on the short flight to Bismarck, waking only when the flight attendant announced it was time to return seats to the upright position and turn off all electronic devices in preparation for landing. The wheels of the plane touched down on dry pavement and not a snowflake was in sight.

For the first time that day, I stopped worrying about the weather and started thinking about the awesome adventure that lay ahead -- five days in the heart of the North Dakota prairie, hunkering down in fields calling to flocks of migrating ducks and geese. It was a hunt I'd been dreaming about ever since I booked it eight months earlier.

My excitement was boiling as I picked up my gun case and duffel at the baggage claim area and headed outside to catch a cab to the car rental facility. I had only been inside the airport for about 20 minutes, but when I walked out to the taxi-staging area, tiny snowflakes stung my cheeks.

By the time I reached the rental car lot a few blocks away, the snowflakes had grown bigger and were falling at a steadier pace. I took a quick trip to a nearby supermarket to pick up a few personal items, and when I left the store I was greeted by a full-on blizzard. Barely an hour had passed since my plane landed under gray, snowless skies, but now I was dealing with white-out conditions.

"This isn't good," I thought.

Goodrich is about 90 minutes northeast of Bismarck. I was leery of making that trip for the first time ever in a blizzard, so I called Frantz to get his opinion.

"I'd stay there tonight," he said without hesitation. "They'll probably close the interstate here in a little while anyway."