Ernesto came a calling

Every Labor Day we have the tradition of tent camping with family and friends in Vermont. Last Monday, The Weather Channel was calling for sunny weather Saturday, Sunday and Monday. As the week progressed the forecast was for rain. Still, we'd camped in the rain before. So off we went packing extra warm clothes and socks.

Friday was fine. Cloudy, but fine. We arrived at the campsite around dusk, set up camp (our tent and screen house with our kitchen set up and table), ate dinner with family, sat around and visited then went to bed. That night the mud flaps on the tent caught the breezes and kept thrumbing against the ground. So, Saturday morning we found some rocks to hold the flaps still. As it turns out these rocks probably saved our tent.

Saturday afternoon, Ernesto came a calling. First, with a few brisk breezes and then, in the evening, the campfire flames were being driven sideways. Before turning in, afraid when the rain finally came everything would get soaked, I packed up all our dishes, and put everything that we normally keep out, back in its storage bin. The only things left out were the two lanterns. They were sitting on the table.

That night, the cool air and whoosh of the wind kept the kids fast asleep while my husband and I laid awake watching the tent top being pushed all over the place. Finally I nodded off still wondering if we'd be awoken by having the tent collapsed on us. What woke me was the soft tinkling sound, like something hitting up against a tent pole. My Dear One got up to investigate. Within seconds he made a brief return to the tent door, "The screen house is blown over." My first thought was for the lanterns. One of them was new, but the other was from my Grandfather. I could remember camping with it when I was a little girl.

In the pitch dark, I groped around for one of the four flashlights, but couldn't find one. I found a a small sweat shirt, a tiny t-shirt and finally a pair of jeans. I slipped them on. They were my Dear One's. Despite my apprehension about the screen tent, I was delighted they fit, thinking, maybe I'm not so fat after all. Next I found a jacket. It turned out to be my eldest. That fit too. I did manage to find my own shoes, and with them on I was out the door, looking at a mangle of screen and poles.

"Your Grandfather's lantern is fine, but the globe on the other is smashed."

A miracle.

As we burrowed through the debris, our friend emerged out of the darkness. She had been calling to us, offering us bed space in her trailer, but we hadn't heard her with the gale force winds that were still howling.

Since I had packed up the night before, it took us no time to untwist the screen house and put our belongings into the car.

Back in the tent we tried to go back to sleep. It was then HE said, "You know I heard two trees snap off around midnight." I thought about getting everyone into the car, but if one of these trees feel on our vehicle we'd surely be killed as if it fell on the tent. Why worry everyone. So, I said my prayers, we had a few laughs and soon I was back to sleep.

In the morning, Ernesto was still flexing his muscles, but there were longer lulls between the gusts. The kids up, we set up our stove, made hot cocoa as usual, and then cooked bacon and eggs for breakfast. After breakfast, we assessed the damage: two poles snapped like dried twigs, a few rips in the screen tent, three out of four legs broken off our kitchen unit, and one broken lantern. Later, while the Dear One set up a lean to out of tarps, I walked around the tent. At least three pegs were pulled out completely and several others were being worked out. If it weren't for the rocks, I fear the tent would have gone over like the screen house.

In the end, we got very little rain, the wind died down by Sunday evening, and we had a lovely campfire. As they say, "A bad day at camping is still better than a good day at work."