All Through The Night – Conclusion of Day 1

The wind’s a blowin’ and the tent is on the ground.  I shove my ultra-light tarp under the tent and finish with an extension jutting out in front of the door.  Unzip said door, plop inside (except for legs), wipe, dump, and shake sand onto the tarp.  Keep that infernal stuff out of my stuff!

Captive gear is sprung from their sacks and in minutes everything is as it should be.  But it wasn’t. Will the tent hold or be ripped to shreds?  No, but seriously damage is possible.  My best solution is to turn the tent parallel to the tempest, allowing  it to pass into one door and out the other. The saying, “No rest for the weary” is magnanimously applicable right now.  I haul myself outside to do chores, AGAIN!

I crawl back inside as before and try to rest.  This body wants sleep, sleep, sleep.  Oh, no.  This is not working either!  Zip! Zip! Zip! yet again.  I close the screens and open the doors, peeling them back as far as possible and tie them to the tent’s poles.  And once more, this body plops down while faithfully maintaining the keep out the sand ritual.

My mind becomes quiet.  But not for long, as a sarcastic chuckling surges up from within.  This is like jumping into a ditch while a tornado passes over, except the extreme airflow relentlessly slams into me.  I  now know what it feels like to be a mountain in the midst of a storm.  The only escape is to bury myself below the surface but I don’t like the sand.  (I learn so much on these outings!)  An explosion of laughter bursts on the scene and keeps on until sleep overtakes it.

The infernal beast wakes me on three occasions throughout its trek from southwest to south southwest and finally only from the South.  At least it’s warm and not a bone chilling cold. I grudgingly get up each time to drag the loaded tent so it remains parallel to the wind. Thankfully, I easily fall back to sleep after each rousting.

 

The profile of my tent has little surface.  So, I figured that presenting it this way into the wind would work.  Seeing the sides being pressed together was something else.  As they say, “There’s a first time for everything.”

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About Just Jude

I grew up on a small farm in Michigan but have always felt the urge to wander and began doing so as a teenager. Since that time, I've hiked, biked and paddled in every season; not for sport, but for the journey.

Posted on December 22, 2014, in Casco Bay, Kayaking, Maine, Maine Coast, Richmond Island, Solo Journeys, Twenty One Days at Sea, Weather, Wind and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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