(p.s. this isnt my image, its from google)
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[SHOUTING]
“ADAM!?”
[SHOUTING BACK]
“YEAH!?”
(pause: because nothing can be heard over the lonesome howl of the wind and our silent pleas for mercy)
“THIS MIGHT SOUND STUPID BUT I THINK I JUST FELT THE HEAT OFF THAT LIGHTENING STRIKE!”
[5.36 minutes earlier--my internal dialogue]
“huh, I wonder if its possible to feel heat from a lightening strike?”
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I’m not sure where to start. do i write about how thunderstorms are scarier when you dont hear the violent crackling and whips of lightening bolts? How when asked two weeks ago if we had been in any serious storms, I replied “No.” or how worrisome it is to be above treeline on the continental divide as the sun sets behind the lightening storm that you’ve watched follow you like michael myers or jason for the past 57 minutes and your only hope of clear sky is swallowed up by clouds thicker than the humidity of the south.
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“what do you think?”
“probably the same as you”
“ok so lets list our options”
[more lightening strikes on the horizon like you are on the front row of the NC state fair fireworks display]
“uh…”
“yeah…”
“ok our options: try and find a lower saddle on the ridge and camp, keep going, or descend to those trees below and get out of the middle of the storm before we are stuck.”
“what time is it?”
“9:27pm…HOLY SHIT!” (larger bolts of lightening)
“yeah…its moving our way.”
“what are dirty and numskull doing?”
“dirty wants to camp and numskull is taking a shit.”
“ok. well…what do you want to do?”
“man, i really dont wanna descend into the woods below. thats at least 1000ft in elevation loss but its probably the safest thing to do.”
“yeah. im game to keep going. we can try and out run it–maybe we just get skirted. it’ll be exciting.”
“uh…thats probably not a good reason to keep going.”
“yeah, you’re right.”
“fuck it. I guess we’ll just camp with dirty and numskull.”
“cool. i think the next saddle is lower than where we are now and it looks like there are some flat places to camp.”
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so my “tent” is no tent. it’s called a tarp tent. It’s basically but more minimally an A-frame structure made of silicone impregnated nylon. AKA: lightweight, waterproof, and terrible with ventilation. There is no floor. Only a strip of bug netting lines the bottom to protect me from mosquitos (or mice). There are only 4-6 points to secure the “tent” to the ground. What i’m trying to get across is that I’m about to be scared shitless setting this thing up in the oncoming storm.
MY #1 WORRY: My “tent” will get ripped off me and blown away–for good.
have i mentioned if my memory serves me correctly that it’s pretty much dark by now except for the fractalled strobe lights in the distance.
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[SHOUTING OVER THE WIND]
“YOU GET EVERYTHING SET UP?!”
“TRYING…YOU?!”
“YEAH, PRETTY GOOD…I THINK…!”
“I RECKON WE’LL SEE!”
“WELL…SHIT…I…WELL IT’S BEEN GOOD…!”
“YEP…SEE YOU IN THE MORNING?!”
“HOPEFULLY…!”
[envision two beared dirty ass dudes hugging just in case the metal rods sticking up in each of their "tents" function as successfully as they look like--lightening rods]
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so we made it but not without a long apprehensive night where every relief from the wind was a short lived moment of hope quickly crushed. It’s like the south if you’ve ever lived or been down there during hurricane season. there is the calm before the storm when the humidity thickens and the silence loudens (i dont think thats a word by the way). this is the moment you notice all signs of life taking shelter except for your dumbasses.
you know better but you start to think/believe that it’s not gonna be that bad even though you can see the 27th level sorceror (mike woods D&D character) conjuring up the black clouds adding hints of hatred, spite, and forth coming wet shoes from behind THE DARKNESS (not the band toby but just as badass). You know all of this not because you are watching (since you are hunkered down in your “tent” hoping for mercy) but because you can just feel the doom and destruction looming above. like i said its thick and loud and the only other thing you can hear is Kevin thinking, “OH SHIT…” over and over and over.
eventually deafening silence breaks to the pitter patter on your “tent.” the light from your headlamp illuminates the syncopated rythym of irregular patterned raindrops. hopes of this quickly blowing over are for the 3rd or 4th time (i can’t remember) squashed as the raindrops on the sil-nylon run for each other like we should have been running for the woods. they form blobs that promptly drain off the side since the pitter patter is now a full on “tropical storm henry” with the category 5 hurricane well on her way to meet you.
NOTE: this isn’t even really nerve wracking yet–not even the drips of water that are leaking onto your face.
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Montana and Idaho. we are high on the divide. to the right is Idaho, to the left is…uh…hold on…
“ADAM?!”
“YEAH?!”
“DOESNT SEEM TO BAD?!”
“YET…!”
…so yeah…to the left is montana. and the reason lightening storms are scarier without thunder and the reason at this moment camping on the ridge is like hurricane season in the south is a slight breeze they call gale force winds.
Idaho was mad for reasonings we knew nothing of, but after about an hour of her venting we reckoned that montana must have fucked up some how. this was all deduced because the slight breeze from the right reaked of potatos. how could i ever know that?–well…it’s because the right side of my “tent” was literally blown over onto and into my face with each ventiong of her Idahoan scorn. I didn’t catch really any reasoning because i was too worried about my “tent” flying away and sticking my arm out to tighten the guy lines.
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“OH SHIT!”
“YOU ALRIGHT KEVIN?!”
“ONE OF MY STAKES CAME OUT!”
“SHIT…YOU NEED HELP?!”
“WHAT!?”
“NEED HELP?!”
“DONT KNOW YET?!”
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there is the eye of the hurricane when everything instantly gets better–the winds die down. if there was the sun it may have peaked out. the stars, well i think in all honestly they were too nervous to get in the middle of Idaho’s beef with Montana so they kept their eyes shut and pulled the clouds up over their heads.
this is the maybe the 5th moment you mistakenly get your hopes up that things are getting better.
but…
but montana hasnt gotten his chance to respond to Idaho’s scorn.
and…and the eye of the storm always passes
but meanwhile the left is about to roar back–in voice and in a light show.
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[STILL SHOUTING...]
“DUDE?!”
“I KNOW!”
“HOW IS YOUR TENT HOLDING UP?!”
“WELL CONSIDERING IT HAS BEEN ON MY FACE NONSTOP…SO FAR SO GOOD I GUESS…!”
“YOURS?!”
“BETTER, ONCE I RESTAKED IT OUT OF THE COW PATTY IT WAS PREVIOUSLY STAKED INTO!”
“YOU THINK ITS OVER!?”
“NOPE.!”
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so the left. the left began in its defense and there was no tiptoe-ing about it. he, montana, dug right into Idaho and into my “tent.” the intensity between idaho and montana was so great that besides the stars keeping quiet, the rain knew “mum” was the word and i wish i would have known their [the stars and rain's] little secret.
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“HOLY SHIT!!!”
“WHATS UP?”
[silence]
“ADAM!?”
[more silence]
“ADAM!!!”
“YEAH…HOLD ON…!”
my tent pole/lightening rod guy line had blown out of the ground and i was holding on to the slipping sil-nylon ever so tightly so it would not catch a big gust and fly away into the night.
montana was livid and was letting idaho know. sorta like witnessing a denis and heather blow out (i love you guys). unfortunately my “tent” took the brunt of the animosity. and all i remember is functioning on auto pilot. before i knew it i was outside restaking my tent in the middle of Idaho’s and montana’s windy argument.
“ALL THINGS AOK KEVIN. MY TENT BLEW OVER AND ALMOST DISAPPEARED!”
“SHIT DUDE, THIS IS PRETTY HEAVY!”
“I KNOW!”
“HAVE YOU SEEN THE LIGHTENING!”
“NOPE. IVE BEEN TOO BUSY HOLDING ONTO MY TENT WHEN IT HASNT BEEN BLOWN ONTO MY FACE. YOU?!”
“WELL I CANT REALLY SEE IT BUT MY TENT GLOWS FOR A CRACKLING SECOND WHEN IT STRIKES!”
“KINDA STRANGE THEIR IS NOT ANY THUNDER, HUH?!”
“YEAH…WELL YOU COULDNT HEAR IT OVER THE WIND RIPPLING NYLON ANYWAYS!”
“TRUE!”
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this was only the first 42 minutes and 26 seconds that felt like it was all night long even though all night long was well on her way setting the back drop for Idaho and Montana’s 2009 CDT blow out. the shouting match continued and the right and left side of my tent took the direct blows but miraculously held up (thank you henry shires).
at some point you have to give up when caught in the middle and not having the ability to do anything. you basically close your eyes and throw the remaining night’s fate to the wind–literally.
so thats what i did.
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“KEVIN!”
“YEAH!…”
“G’NIGHT!…”
“NIGHT!”
[long pause. even longer moments. long enough to finally drift into the twilight zone of sleep.]
“HEY ADAM?!”
“YEAH!”
“THIS MIGHT SOUND STUPID BUT I THINK I JUST FELT THE HEAT OFF THAT LIGHTENING STRIKE!”
That was an epic story!
Damn man, that sounds more epic than I care to encounter. Glad youre alright. Onwards!
DOH! So stoked to hear your story!
Awesome write-up. You guys really have to put a book together after this. Glad you made it out to write it up.
I was going to say great photo, but then I read you p.s. Anyway, sweet story, and the erst of the photos are badass.
Damn, nice work. I love the last line.
I’m going to claim that story for my very own to tell my grandchildren. They’re going to think I’m so cool.