The weather was warm in the 60s and the sun was shining as I waved goodbye to my new friend Murph. Pointing south in Bay Bulls Rd, I soon found myself winding along picturesque fishing communities nestled into coves and harbours. Taking my time and stopping often at the many interpretive signs, it was nice to relax and not be pushing the miles as I'd done many times before.
Around 7 pm, the rain began to fall. I kicked out my campfire and finished the steaming cup of coffee beneath the rain fly and hammock, happy for the shelter. I was dubious of my windswept position overlooking Chance Cove but hoped the weather would haul around from the north. The wind and rain picked up through the evening until by 1:30AM it was blowing pretty seriously. Tied to The swaying spruce trees, the hammock bounced with each great gust of wind. The flap of my fly dispelled wind driven droplets that began to spray my face and sleeping bag. I remained hopeful that things would hold. "Oh please hold strong and fast through the night " I muttered to the shelter. Pulling the bag over my head to stay warm, dry and muffle the flapping sound, sleep nearly returned when the inevitable break of tension came. A stake had worked free sending the fly sailing on the breeze thus exposing my sleeping bag and gear to the elements. "Think. Stay calm" I kept repeating , though unsuccessfuly doing neither. Another quick gust blew the Ruckus on top of me, pinning the hammock and myself below a handlebar . So much for this spot, the beauty of this island depends so much on the weather. Scrambling about clad in a wool sweater, underwear and unlaced soggy boots, I managed to restake the fly but soon found it flying in the wind before I could get the other side in. Quick thinking brought heavy rocks from the firepit to my aid, wrapping their sharp edges with the guy lines. The gusts continue on and I remain hopeful that the heavy rocks will hold the tarp in place despite the winds. on this Unprotected hillside it is much like a sail with no vessel to power. It remains unwise to harness the wind without purpose. If only I brought my tent or had set up in a more protected location. Damp conditions now prevailed inside the hammock but if the fly stays on, I'll stick it out. I may be forced to move before the night is through. But where?
In May 2014 I quit my job to ride a Honda Ruckus over 55'000 mi and counting. Wild camping most nights and cooking most of my own meals, I keep the costs low and the landscape changing.