Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Chasing Black Beard


A stormy history continues...

The wind whipped up grains of loose sand that peppered my face as I drove stakes into the ground in what would ultimately become a feeble attempt at securing the awning that we carried with us for shade. Ash steadily snapped photos of the storm front as I smugly secured the camp site for the evening. “That should hold” I thought to myself, “besides, we have crossed this path before, it’s just a thunder storm”...




Fast forward to 3am the next morning, the tent began to shake and rattle but nothing that would cause alarm; the guy lines were secure and dispersed the weight of the wind as it whipped around the tent. Then came the rain, not just any rain, and while it’s hard to describe this kind of rain, rest assured that it was comparable to what one would envision if they were camping under a waterfall.

I sat up "Indian style" on my Thermarest pad and observed the fact that “Blitzy” our 60 pound Pit-Bull had wrapped herself around me with her head in my lap apparently cowering because of the deafening noise of the rain beating down on the tent, “She’s not afraid of anything, this is so weird”, curiously enough, Ash was sleeping comfortably beside me with the notion of "I can't do anything about the storm now"...

Ash was right, and the storm kept coming, between the flashes of lighting I tried in vain to see through the walls of the tent to get some measure of what was going on outside. “Damn, we are downwind from the gear”, I grabbed my “Osprey” pack and stood it up between us and what I assumed would be the flying debris from the camp site to give us some protection from projectiles. A strange whoosh noise left me wondering what had taken flight in the pitch black night.

Finally the rains dissipated enough to where I felt comfortable enough to stick my melon out without worry about receiving a head wound.

I stumbled outside to find the awning had totally failed. To give you some idea of what I mean by total failure, it looked as if a giant took his hand and "palmed" the camp site into the sand. Nothing was spared, as everything got a piece of the action.

Ash and I spent the next few hours regrouping...

As is always the case, the sun rose the next morning and we reconfigured the site to accommodate our needs. This was day one of our trip to the island but we were rewarded with one of the most relaxing and romantic ventures we have yet to take.


Sunset over the sound


July 4th on an East Coast beach without another soul in sight, remarkable


Red wine by candle light


While any fish of note continue to elude me, my hopes of filleting a fresh catch then throwing it on the grill are only part of what makes this place so special and why we are already scanning our calendars for the next trip.