I set up camp and checked the radar. Sure enough a small but powerful storm was moving east of Brainerd and I was directly in the path. I turned on my weather radio and heard the familiar squelch of the hazardous warning. That small storm was tornadic with spotted funnel activity and approaching at 50 mph. Wow. I built up the fire and had the wherewithal to start cooking my rice and beans to supply energy for this most arduous day. The wind grew more ferocious and I decided to erect the tarp to stay dry and keep cooking while the storm passed. Jugs were positioned at the end of the tarp to collect rainwater for cooking. What happened next was the most frightening and powerful storm I've experienced outdoors. The telltale freight train roar overhead signaled it was finally here. A 50 mph gust came in from the south unexpectedly and nearly blew my tent away despite the stakes. Shit. This wasn't just some summer storm. Above me trees bent and cracked in the onslaught and rain flew sideways beneath the tarp. I kept moving the jugs to keep then filled. Eventually, I realized I was likely to lose the tent if I wasn't in it so I dashed through the wall of water and falling debris to my tent door where Murphy kicked in and the zipper got stuck. I slid underneath and was soon inside soaking wet. I consolidated camping gear into dry bags in case the rainfly blew off, a real concern as corners of the tent lifted off the ground. The flapping of my tarp signaled I had busted a grommet but at least I was two gallons richer. Trees snapped throughout camp and the wind made dramatic changes in direction guiding me from one corner of the tent to the other. After about 20 minutes, the system had passed and sunshine illuminated my yellow tent. It felt like a ray of positivity after such a tough day.