The Storm (Sept. 15) Part 2.

I was surprisingly comfortable in my scant shelter despite the hurricane quality of the winds.  In truth the windspeed would barely have made a category 1 hurricane, but there had been no news or weather alert (or warning at all).  People all over had been caught unaware.

I considered going to sleep.  Only the lightning and the possibility of a tornado still troubled me.  I was too high up and too exposed still to deal with either.

Then I saw headlights moving slowly along the road.  The moment I left the shelter of my rock the wind nearly ripped the tarp from my hands.  I sped back towards the roadway.  Someone must have seen my headlamp because the headlights slowed further.

The headlights became a van and the van stopped.  My pants got caught in the barbed wire fence.  The wind died down a hair.  I struggled for a minute, and the van began to pull away.  I broke free, tore a small hole in my tarp, and ran up to the vehicle.

"Is this tornado weather?" I shouted as the passenger window rolled down.

"Yes! What?" came the reply.

"Is there shelter at the camp site?"

"Yes?". He sounded hesitant. "You staying there?"

"I'm going there.  I'm on a bike.  Is it far?"

"Not far.  You can go there."

There were three young men and a lot of fishing gear in the car.  I was having trouble hearing due to the wind and, as good as their English was, the accents made me think maybe it was their second language.

"Is there shelter there?"

"Yes, and other people that can help you.  It's right back there.  You want me to drive you?"

The lightning lit up all around us.  The land was visible for a moment, high, open, and flat.  The dust was mostly gone, but the wind picked up again. 

"Sure," I said.  Final rule invoked.  Motorized vehicles are acceptable in the case of immediate physical danger, and a high plains full of lightning is a deadly place to be.  Beyond that, "Yes!  What?" was not a reassuring answer in regards to asking if it was tornado weather.

I left my bike behind and my pack out in the darkness.  I started to go back for the pack, but the fellow driving got a confused look as if maybe I didn't want a ride after all.  I decided not to chance it, and there wasn't much in the pack that wouldn't dry.

The camp site was just over a mile away.  When they pulled into the camp I reached for my wallet.  They waved me off. "No money" they said, so I reached for my travel book and wrote down their names instead.  I have since lost that book and, sadly, their names as well.

I got out and looked around.  The van pulled off.  There was wind and rain, but also trees and windbreaks, small hills and galleys.  It wasn't so fierce here.  There also was no ranger station, pavilion, or any other "shelter" that I could see.  I reached for my phone to tell Pat I was alright.  It wasn't there. In my mad dash for the road I had left it with my pack.

So there I was, standing in the rain with no phone and no gear other than my rain poncho. 

The rain picked up again.  There were already branches strewn along the ground and more began to fall from the trees.  To be continued...