SHELTER FROM THE STORM (Part II)

“Most of the time it was probably real bad being stuck down in a dungeon. But some days, when there was a bad storm outside, you'd look out your little window and think, "Boy, I'm glad I'm not out in that." --- Jack Handy

DISCLAIMER: Due to significant isolation and the onset of potential bloodborne viruses, exact times of events described in this post may be slightly inaccurate.

Some folks may feel like Jack Handy about an impending storm, however others may almost find a solace in the elemental experience of nature, even in the stings of mosquitoes.

Scratch, slap, spray (eucalyptus spray that is)...scratch, slap, spray...scratch, slap, spray. This sequence of activity was rapidly becoming our new routine as clouds billowed to the east.

Approximately 5:45 p.m. EST / We could feel the gradual inhalation of the clouds and knew the storm would be upon us soon, so nourishment became the priority. Our menu for the evening consisted of Kashi bruschetta crackers topped with pesto from a tube, babybel cheese, spaghetti with tomato/basil sauce, and a Stone Brewing company Ruination IPA.

We enjoyed our delicious meal marsh-side as the wind picked up and the sky darkened to an ominous level. I strolled out the path leading towards the bay. The breeze not only brought with it imminent winds and rains but also relief from the unrelenting bugs.

We figured this would be a significant storm, yet brief in nature and then the night would create a planetarium of sorts in this dark Delmarva nook. About 6:45/7:00 p.m., we heard the distant thunder rapidly gaining volume and shortly after the first rain drops hit.

We had prepped our camp. Tent anchored. Surfboards in the "chateau". Kayak hatches on. Headlamps at the ready. Now, we could enjoy the show. Tom and Paul brought cameras and went paparazzi.

We decided as the heart of this first storm was over us to take shelter in the old cabin. There were some loud cracks and some good booms, but it wasn't too bad. We briefly entertained the idea of darting to the beach for a quick surf as the sun even poked through a bit.

Then the thunder rumbles began again. It was about dusk...the sky was getting dark and we were losing light fairly quickly, so we opted to stay put.

We crawled into our bags round 9:00 p.m. Paul crashed. Tom seemed to follow suit shortly. I drifted in and out, but around 10:15 p.m., the artillery fire set in. I could hear the thunder miles away inching towards our location.

It sounded like two things. One. A train moving closer and closer, which made me think of one thing....tornado??? The second sound it resembled was artillery fire. I felt as if I was sitting in a fox hole and the bad guys were "walking" their shells onto my position. The situation was extremely eerie, but absolutely fascinating.

I've never encountered such calmness in the immediate air around me, and such unruliness in such close proximity. It was surreal, but I was digging it.

As the storm moved almost directly overhead, the Pink Floyd concert began. Lightning flashes illuminated the island. It was like we were on the inside of one of those electricity spheres looking out as arcs permeated in all directions.

We hunkered down in the tent for about 15 minutes, then Paul and I made break for the cabin with our sleeping bags. Tom stalled for a bit in the tent, however he shortly joined us.

From the cabin's doorway we watched the sky light up, and I am certain that numerous strikes hit the island. The intensity of the storm was initially a bit unsettling, however I got past that as the night lingered on.

One thing that did dwell in my subconscious a bit, that I must admit was partially due to the isolation and the darkness of the island but more likely a result of my imagination. As I gazed out the windows into the storm from the rustic old structure, I kept seeing that image of a flash of lightning, and then a crazed stranger standing outside of the window looking in.

Finally around 1:00 a.m., we crawled back into our bags in the refuge of our little tent, and we drifted off to the hum of skeeters peering in through the mesh.

The next morning provided us with glassy water conditions, a slight off shore wind and mostly blue skies. We broke camp in the most efficient manner to avoid being Sunday morning brunch and began the paddle for the main land.

Shelter comes in many forms; a sturdy cabin, the light of a headlamp, a good friend. In many ways, a trip like this provides one shelter from the daily storms of life.

Look, listen, feel, enjoy,

Ostrich