Day 14 comes in two parts, because Night 13 came before, and it was brutal! I’ll tell you about Night 13, but bear in mind that this is an adventure and there will be days and nights like this, and life is not a bed of roses and sometimes it’s definitely not a chocolate box filled with choices.
When I arrived at Mount Currie campsite, as you know, it was idyllic, with carpets of autumn leaves and zebras peacefully grazing against a backdrop of rolling hills. It started to rain softly and I was enjoying the sound of the rain on my tent. At first. Then it started to rain a lot harder, the wind picked up and the lightening started to flash across the sky. Crashing thunder followed every 9 seconds, then 6 seconds, then 3 seconds. I was doing the maths and becoming extremely concerned. In my endless quest to become a Darwin Award winner, I’d pitched my tent under the trees, mostly in case of the predicted snow. I thought, in my limited camping wisdom, that I’d be more protected from the snow under the trees. And then I noticed water dripping through the flaps of my tent, on both sides, and I just knew that this was going to be a Bad Night at Black Rock.
At first I tried to use towels to minimise the leaking but that wasn’t going to help if it rained all night, which was the weather forecast. Well, they didn’t know. They were saying heavy rain, snow, light rain, cloudy, thundershowers, clearing. Clueless! But, back to the lightning. I was seriously scared when the number dipped below three, so I decided safety first and I gapped it to my car, and sat there dripping and counting for a while. It’s tricky because if you’re still counting when the next flash comes, what do you do? Do you abandon the first count and start again? It took my genius brain a while to realise I should stick with the first count. But you know how easily I get distracted! Anyway, eventually the flashing wasn’t followed by thunder and I figured it was sheet lightning by then, so I ventured back to my poor leaking dysfunctional tent. What a disaster! The towels were soaked and my bedding was wet and I knew that there would be no sleeping anytime soon. But what to do?
I was freezing by then and needed to boil water for my new hot water bottle and for coffee, but I couldn’t light a gas fire in a nylon tent (even I know that much!). It didn’t make sense to sit in the pouring rain and boil water to get warm. But then I remembered that there was, of course, an ablution block made of cement and bricks with a solid roof at the campsite. Concrete floor yes, but a roof. And dry. Decision made. I would run there with my mini cooker and kettle etc, get soaking wet on the way, boil said water and make my coffee and fill my hot water bottle, then run back to the tent, getting re-soaked, and sit in my wet tent with my hot bottle and coffee. Decision unmade. What to do?
I had to move my bed. The choices were my car or the ablution block. My car was packed with my travelling stuff, so not an option. The ablution block… well, just the thought of it made me feel uggghh. But, there seemed to be only one chocolate left in the box, so I reluctantly moved my mattress and bedding and setup my Ablution BnB out of the reach of rain and lightning. While I was squishing through the mud I was wondering why on earth I was in this ridiculous situation, and I had to remind myself that this is an adventure and not a holiday as such. So I thought, how do I turn this crazy disaster into something that is framed as an adventure, and not just a night from hell? And that’s when I remembered “Under the Tuscan Sun”. I’d copied some movies to watch on the road and I’d been sure that there would be a time when I would need to watch my feel-good movie. It’s like my comfy movie blankie. I take it with me everywhere. And if ever I needed to watch my movie it was then. So at 1:30 in the morning, I was cosy on the concrete floor of an ablution block, with coffee and chocolate (just the one topdeck bar), watching “Under the Tuscan Sun”. In the movie there is a scene where Diane Lane’s character, Frances, is running from lightning (doing the counting thing as well) and her washing machine gets nuked and then she discovers an owl in her room, also sheltering from the storm. I laughed and laughed at that irony. Owls btw are symbolic for me of my late Dad watching over me, so in that moment I felt strangely protected and that it would all be ok.
I felt very exposed though, being in a public place, even though there was only one other camper in the site. I didn’t feel ok about falling asleep, because I had my laptop and other valuables with me and was concerned about them being stolen (by who, I just don’t know? Crazy thoughts!) and it got me thinking that this is what it must feel like to be homeless. My heart broke for all of those people who don’t have much, but the little they may have is constantly under threat of being taken from them. That was a real eye-opening, crossing the boundary of us Haves and them Have-nots, moment for me.
This story doesn’t have a happy ending. Yet. But it is a journey so let’s see what happens next.