Wild camping in 2 nights of heavy rain
|Notes from Journal
Once I’d reached the edge of the forest I stood in front of the tightly knit trees and stared deep into the darkness ahead as if begging permission to enter. Then I respectfully stepped into the massive realm of woodland, and from the first footfall the whole atmosphere changed. The ground was spongy, like walking on foam, and as I put my full weight down the earth seemed to hug my boots and gently release them with each step. Scent from the foliage, mixed with the dampness and decay, danced through the air and tickled my nostrils, and sprinkles of dew that were lying in wait leaped from their hosts to anoint me with weepy atoms, and cooled my face with their misty kisses.
Day Three (Rain)
After about ten minutes' halcyon musing lying on my back, head sticking outside of my tent, listlessly gazing into the infinite sky, my equanimity was violently upturned. I caught site of a transient dark cloud rolling its way overhead like an imposing metaphor. Its eerie shadow stirred along akin to a mischievous harbinger unable to contain his baleful glee when presaging chaos and disorder. The blackness began to overwhelm the sky's light and correspondingly drained the vivid greens and viridescent leaves and grasses into unflattering hues of grey. Pompous and opinionated flowers, flaunting their blues and yellows and whites, were sapped in their prime, and within a brief moment background and foreground became indistinguishable, mountains and trees alike dissolved into ambiguous shadows. And in the Stygian gloom, the first pearl drops found their way to earth, pit-a-patting ad adagio on my tent, and then sonorous crescendo all around.
A Night in the Rain
The heaviness of the cloudburst and the penetrating thunder, booming and roaring like cannon fire, heckled my peaceful slumber. So I wormed myself out of my sleeping bag and in my half-sleep crawled wearily over to the tent-flap and cretinously fumbled with the zipper, opening it just wide enough to peep into the night's sombre greyness. I purblindly squinted into the thickness of the downpour, tired and irked with the piercing thunder, but half-glad at the protracted illumination from the lightning which spun out far enough for me to catch sight of green fields turning into silver oceans.
The moon, earth’s only natural satellite, how fitting, I thought, and said out loud to myself: “Sat-A-Light.” One can almost imagine spooks and wraiths impatiently peering upward into the cosmos, staring into the cold and frigid sea of unending darkness, fervidly wishing for the moon’s lunar rays to light up their playground so that they can come out and play. And tonight their wishes have been granted. The half-light, an incandescent glow laced with blue beams of horizontal brilliance like wafting silky ribbons wash away the night’s inky blackness. And as though by some fairy-tale magic an all enchanting lower strata of glimmering beams unfurl silent bursts of mercurial light that spread in abundance and betray hidden, sleepy hills. A night light, suspended on its invisible thread, alluring and irresistible, so vivid and clear, perfectly round, like a shiny silver coin, effusing snow-white beams of light that reflect the forest’s canopy as it shimmers in the night breeze. The hypnotic, transient rays dance over the trees like excitable infant spectres chasing their own uncatchable shadows.