This group of friends wanted to spend four days and three nights camping. There is no internet or cell phone service out there. For some this was a little concerning, for if any emergency might arise we would be unable to dial in for assistance. This is what Dave and I love about these trips!
The second day of our trip rain came in the morning and lasted on and off all day. Dave is the tarp master so we were all hunkered down much of the afternoon under a tarp, playing cribbage and eating too much. As the evening gray turned into the dark of night the storm intensified and the rain became torrential! The wind picked up and began to howl. With the rain pounding the tarp and the wind smacking into it we could barely hear each other talk. We all stood in our head-to-toe rain gear, staring out into the darkness, marveling at the streams of water running off the tarp. The ground under our picnic tables was awash, making it impossible to really stay dry. Dave closed the tarp down and secured it; we all knew we were protected until we got brave enough to head to our tents.
As I stood there with everyone, feeling the power of this storm, I had this intense need to get out into it ... to escape the protection of the tarp and stand in the dark alone with this storm surging and pounding my solar plexus! As I walked out into the abyss everyone gasped and began yelling for me to come back, that I was crazy! Maybe I was at that moment. But what these people didn't know about me is that I've always gone out into the storm.
Growing up my siblings and I would go down to the beach when the tropical storms of August, remnants of hurricanes further south, would come up the coast whipping the ocean into a frothy frenzy. We would strip off our protective outerwear and go out into that surf with its gigantic waves! Holding hands, digging our heels into the sand to keep from being swept away by the undertow, we would scream and duck the oncoming giants.
I've also been one to go straight out into a blizzard, with winds that turn soft, feathery snowflakes into lashing little knives that cut into my bare face. Leaning into the gale I would turn to the sting of the harsh snowflakes and walk into the storm. Always feeling more alive.
And so, I walked out into the night as rain pounded our little campsite and the wind whipped the lake into caps of white topped waves. I screamed into the gale, knowing my friends couldn't hear. Opening my arms to the torrential rain I felt that storm beating into my chest and the rain streaming down my exposed face. I felt more alive in that wild moment. I was a wild child opening to the power of the night, the power of the storm, and embracing it.
In the morning the lake was calm and like glass. Loons called warnings as an Eagle flew over. Clothes and tarps were laid out on rocks in the sun to dry. Over breakfast everyone made a comment about my going out into the storm, "Mary, last night you were drunk!".
I only smiled.
Perhaps I was drunk, drunk on the power of that night. Drunk on the feeling of being so alive when standing out in the storm. Drunk on the gratitude I felt about my life at that moment and being able to stand on this secluded beach with great friends and experience being wild!
