Last night at Warderick Wells, we rode out the greatest storm we have ever encountered. I was scared. Katie was scared. Reggie was scared. Louise, terrified. The four of us laid in bed silent, yet wide eyed and sweating because we had every vent and window closed. Katie nor I admitted to being nervous for hours, until we both reached our limit and started jabbering as a distraction. I pleaded guilty to eating cookies and a banana in the dark like a fat kid to settle my gut. She laughed and decided to eat some cookies herself.
The amount of water dumping on top of Louise felt heavy enough to overpower her displacement. It felt as if the weight of the rain alone would naturally sink us beneath the surface of the water. The frequency of the lightning was so intense, not even a fraction of a second could distinguish the time in-between the flashes and bone-cracking rumbles of thunder. When I was a kid, I used to count “Mississippi’s” in-between lightning and thunder. I would see the flash and start counting… “One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi… ” until I heard a rumble. However many Mississippi’s you counted in-between the two, indicated the distance of the storm in miles. Counting Mississippi’s told me how close it was, and if it was coming closer. I made sure I was near someone in the house when I got down to “three Mississippi.”
Let’s just say there were no “Mississippi’s” to be counted for an entire hour. We were in the middle of it, it was on top of us, we were underneath it, and it was relentless. It kept me praying to whoever it is that I believe in, to keep us safe. Nick and Hillary were on the mooring ball next to us. Just Tara and Louise viciously bobbing around with nothing in the area to absorb a lighting strike except our masts. Trying to sleep under a 45 foot stick of metal, was kind of a joke. Neither of our boats are properly grounded, and I’m pretty sure if that lightning had anything to strike, it would have been either of us.
The entire time I was within arms reach of several wooden plugs to plug any hole created by the spider veining effect of a strike. Which is a really funny thought process. Because I am sure that if we were struck by lightening, my brain would be fried. I would then be trying to plug holes with a fried brain. I don’t think that would work. Oh well, I figured it was worth a shot. A week later, we learned that we had survived the first “named storm” of the season. That’s the last time I will lay down on a glassy night assuming I will get a great nights sleep.