Camping has lately become synonymous with rain for me. Four straight trips have had issues. The first one of the streak was a horrendous 12 hour deluge; this latest one was a 12 o'clock dash to the nearest hotel. Hot humid weather not surprisingly gave way to a storm at night. Though I have been in tents several times while a storm outside has raged, never can I remember a time when I have tried to wait out the storm all the while trying to figure out if the weight of our bodies was enough to keep the tent from blowing away.
When the rain began to seep in not only at the floors but also at the roof, there was little to do but puddle jump to the car. A few more mad dashes back and forth, a broken and water logged canopy, a decision to abandon the t-shirt sandbagged tent, a dark/foggy/twisty road, and a suite with direct access to the indoor pool...finally led to a warm, DRY albeit very firm bed with promises of a deep whirlpool tub and continental breakfast in the morning.
It's hard to believe, I know, but 3 girls are rather ineffectual against a dripping mesh ceiling when only armed with 2 old towels that lived a good life in the glory days of college.
"When all is said and done, the weather and love are the two elements about which one can never be sure." Alice Hoffman