A Camp and Windy Weekend

I love camping.  It is an utter idyll to sit by a firepit with a glass of wine and good company.  You don’t have to go out because you are already out and in prime position to watch the sunset, hear the dusk chorus, spot the bats flitter past and catch sight of the first star.

Last summer Perran and I camped near Avebury.  This July, Carenza and I were to stay at the excellent Woodfire Camping site at Westlands, East Sussex. 

We planned walks on the South Downs Way and Serpent Trail and sightseeing at Petworth House.  However, most unfortunately, we forgot to book good weather.

The forecast said fair on Friday night, downpour Saturday. 

‘We have to pack all my favourite bits of camping into Friday night,’ I said. 

So we ate looking out over acres of woodland, I painted a watercolour and Carenza read. As night fell, we lit the firepit, opened a bottle of wine and switched on my bat detector (pipistrelles were passing).  Even the air stayed in our airbeds and we were woken early by a family of noisy woodpeckers. (Outside the tent, not in it.)

We also had a solid plan for the rainy Saturday evening.

1)      Go to pub

2)      Stay in pub

3)      Return to tent at bedtime

BUT I had not paid sufficient attention to the forecast – not only was there to be rain.  A MIGHTY WIND was on its way.

The blasts bent the tent poles double and forced rain in through the seams.  I could not see Carenza in the dark, but I imagined her lying like me with eyes wide open, listening to the buffeting of the storm and wishing we’d checked the guy ropes before turning in…  Every time I fell asleep, the side of the tent blew in and slapped me awake. 

In the morning our tent was still standing, but we couldn’t help noticing not all the other tents were where they had been the night before. Some gazebos were missing altogether.

At the time, we enjoyed the first night way more, but it is the second night we will still be enjoying years from now as we continue to recount the tale of the scary gale.