US 395, East side of the Sierras, many blown over big rigs. We hunkered down between to hangers at the local airport for two days till they opened the road again. Even parked where we were I had to lower the jacks to stop the rocking.
I also have a winter Mt. Shasta story. In the seventies, two lost climbers at Christmas in a huge storm. I was on a search team and had to stay on the mountain when dark fell. Snowing hard and in the middle of the night the slope slid with my partner and I in the tent. A ride of less than fifty feet but then the wind caught the loose tent and we went for another ride, this one longer. We both got caught in another slide on the way down next morning but managed to snag the rope on some rocks and safety. I don't like Shasta in the winter.
My most vivid memory of the whole thing was how quick hot Jello froze, almost faster than you could drink it.