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If you’ve slept in a tent more than once you know that you never leave the rainfly off. If you’re pitching the goddamn thing in the middle of the Gobi Desert or on the moon or in New Hampshire with a forecast of clear skies on into eternity, you still drape your tent with the rainfly. If you don’t, you’ll regret it.
Last night I left mine off. At 11:30 I was awakened from a sleep so deep there were no detectable brain waves by the patter of rain. Leaf litter, I prayed. My imagination, I hoped. No, simple rain drops.
In my underwear, I scrambled from my dark tent into the featureless outside, and shuffled in the direction of my nearby truck. I willed myself to move slowly in spite of the cold rain so I wouldn’t collide with the tailgate where I prayed Matt had placed the rainfly pole. I grabbed the pole and the fly and lurched back to where my tent should have been, but it had disappeared. The flashlights I’d bought at Walmart on my way up were still at Walmart. I’d remembered to lift from the carrousel the bags with the coffee, the paper towels and the water, but not the nifty new super-powerful lights.
As the rain pelted down, I made it back to the truck, fired it up, and turned the lights on, but the headlights illuminated bushes and trees  away from the tent, and I had neither the time nor the space to turn the truck around. I jammed the shift into reverse to engage my backup lights and yanked on the emergency brake. The same hand brake I’d repaired myself in order to pass my last inspection. Oh lordy, I thought. Here I am –  blurry of mind, wet, worrying about a soggy sleeping bag, and now I’m about to turn my back on my two ton idling truck while I try to find the right side of the fly, the right end of the tent, and the five plastic catches to secure it all.
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Small group this time. Robby, Joe, Matt and Kyle arrived on Friday, and I drove up Saturday as Joe returned for a family trip to Cirque De Soleil.
Rak, there is the most amazing mouse nest in your wood stove. Also, the hinge on the door broke so it’ll have to be repaired before another winter’s fire.
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Jen
I literally am laughing out loud. Nice visual, Mike. And why does Robbie have a gun? Water pistol I hope?
mattmatt
not a pistol, but a pellet gun. no damage done, and if our friends were not the people that they are there would have been a lot more of us. too bad they all take cues from the same blind man.
michael
Robby asked, “If I point the gun like this, does it look like I’m shooting Matt in the head?”
True, Matt, but if your friends weren’t the people they are, we wouldn’t have had those two huge group trips.
Jen
Still begs the question. Why do you need a pellet gun? What are you planning on bruising besides each other accidentally?
rakkityed.schmahl
If it were me escaping the rain, once I got into the truck, I would have slept there!
The mice broke the stove door hinge–just for a warm place to live? Let ’em have the stove!
michael
The back bed is too small and the seats don’t recline far enough. I got the fly on and had a darn good night’s sleep.
adam
Supersweet macro!