Bloggin' Umholtz

The Storm

Wow, thunder and lightning! Heck of a storm moving through right now. Slow mover. Gives you plenty of time to stand on the back porch and admire it. There's just something about thunderstorms at night. It's a strange mixture of the darkness of the night, the danger of the storm and the bright flashes illuminating the shadows just enough...but not quite enough, if you know what I mean.

Years ago, I used to take annual fishing trips to Canada. On a lake, in Central Ontario I was treated to a thnderstorm I shall never forget, and few will have the opportunity to see.

We camped on an island on that lake, in tents, in tents covered with large poly tarps. Our trips were pretty routine. pitch camp, drink beer, swim in the lake, explore the wilderness. Towards evening we would launch our boats and go fishing for walleyes. On a normal night we would come back to camp around midnight, drink some more beer and sit around the campfire watching the dancing flames. One year on the last night, when there were only two of us left, everyone else had broke camp and headed home, we were chased off the lake be an approaching storm. We got to the island, buttoned up the camp, grabbed a couple of cold Molson's and went out to the point to watch the show.

There were these great fingers of lightning that danced among the storm clouds and balls of light that would illuminate those clouds, showing there huge billowy grayness against the black of the sky. The wind blew warm at first...then turned colder and more vicious. All around us lightning bolts reached out and touched the ground. Huge thunderclaps followed the flashes almost instantaneously. My friend and I were so entranced by the show that we forgot all concern for our own safety and sat, riveted to the granite point taking it all in. The waves of the lake broke in two and three foot white caps against the shore below, tossing spray up into the lightning lit sky. Rain whipped across the lake illuminated by the almost constant light show. At times it could pass for daylight. Not high noon daylight, but the willowy first wisps of morning for sure.

The show went on for almost thirty minutes during which time not a drop of rain fell on us. In fact if you looked directly overhead you could see the stars in a clear circle of sky surrounded by the tumultuousness of the storm. It was, similar, I'm sure to being in the eye of a hurricane, only instead of crossing over us the circle opened and passed to either side of the island.

When it was all over, we sat there for the longest time
listening to the waves lap the shore and watching the crystal clear northern sky. Somewhere, off to the north, on the mainland a wolf or a coyote howled, breaking our moment of self meditation. Slowly we left our vantage point and made our way back to our tent, knowing we would never see such a sight again for the rest of our lives.

The following morning after breaking camp and motoring to the mainland we met up with my parents who were staying at a lodge along the shore of the lake. When I asked them if they enjoyed the storm, they said they never saw it. They heard some thunder in the distance, but that was all.

Still today, almost twenty years later I can close my eyes and see the whole scene vividly. I can feel the air, taste the ozone and hear the waves break against the granite. I know, if I'm ever lucky enough to stand once more on that granite point, I will search the night sky for just a glimpse of the majesty of that storm from long ago.