In less than three
weeks, we're going camping in Wales. The current week's forecast for the area
where we're staying is between 16 and 19 degrees, with more rainy days than dry
ones - I haven't dared to look further ahead, but I'm not feeling too optimistic!
I try not to let the weather spoil a holiday but it has to be said that camping
isn't a whole lot of fun in cold and/or rainy weather.
We've definitely had
our fair share of bad camping weather over the years. We've never been brave
enough to camp any earlier than the end of May (or later than August) but even
the summer months don't guarantee good weather. In the past we've headed south
in France, with the aim of getting some sun, but that still doesn't always work
- we've had torrential rain in Spain and the French Riviera! The worst weather
we ever experienced was several years ago in Andorra. Yes, it's in the
mountains, so we were prepared for it to be a bit colder, but we weren't
prepared for a storm that saw us desperately trying to hold down the tent in
case it blew away. We didn't sleep much that night, and the following morning
saw a campsite full of sleeping bags hung up to dry after tents flooded.
More recently, we
camped for a few nights in Hastings at the end of May. It was the first time we'd
camped in the UK for five years and only the second time we'd camped in May
with the kids (the first time was so cold I worried about the boys getting
hypothermia). The forecast got worse the closer we got to going away - the
temperatures weren't too bad, and the occasional rain cloud I could cope with, but
the lightning bolt was starting to worry me.
The storm hit just
before bed on our second night. We'd been playing cards outside the tent,
listening to the distant thunder and hearing the wind pick up. By the time we
were in bed, the wind was howling, the tent was shaking and I was worrying. You
can tell yourself that it will be fine, but I remember the 1987 hurricane - if
the chimney down the road couldn't stand up to the wind, what hope did our tent
have?! I told myself that the tent had survived the storm in Andorra and tried
(unsuccessfully) to get to sleep.
The wind eventually
died down, although the thunder and the rain picked up. I relaxed a little. I was
slightly concerned about the rain but the tent had survived torrential rain
before without leaking. The thunder and the lightning didn't bother me, though
- they may be loud and bright but they couldn't hurt me. Right?
But as the storm got
louder and we realised it was right overhead,
I remembered that
lightning absolutely can hurt you. And I was beginning to think that the thunder
might also be able to. I have honestly never heard thunder so loud, and every
lightning flash (they were constant) lit up the tent so brightly that it hurt, even with my eyes closed. I was actually genuinely terrified.
It was at around this
point that the other enemy of camping started to kick in - the need for a
nighttime wee. I don't get it - it rarely happens at home so why does it always
happen when I'm in a tent?! It could be the cold - nights get pretty chilly when
you're in a tent, and I'm sure that doesn't help if you need a wee. It could be
the jiggling on your bladder during the walk back from the bathroom before bed.
More likely it's just Sod's law. It's bloody inconvenient to go for a wee in
the middle of the night when you're camping, so it's Sod's law that you're
going to need one. Unfortunately, this wasn't just inconvenient, it was
downright impossible. Nothing was going to get me out in that weather - I'd end
up wetter than Michael Gove and probably struck by lightning to boot! I
resolved to lie there and hope it would go away. Fingers crossed I'd fall
asleep soon and everything would be fine. Of course, I had no hope of falling
asleep in a thunderstorm. The incessant thunder and lightning meant it was like
trying to fall asleep in a nightclub (but with better music).
It all came to a head
when there was a sudden piercing scream, followed by a sob, coming from Dylan's
bedroom compartment. Lee and I both sat up instantly. Was he just frightened by the storm or had the tent started leaking over his head? But as we waited for more noise from Dylan and heard nothing, we realised he was simply talking (well, shouting) in his sleep. But by this point there was no going back for me. There wasn't a hope of me getting to sleep until I'd had a wee - and I REALLY needed it.
I prayed for the She-Wee, which I'd bought for just such an occasion, to magically float out of the car where I'd inconveniently left it and into my hands. I prayed for a bucket to magically appear in front of me. Needless to say, my prayers weren't answered. Lee was laughing as I frantically searched through everything we'd brought with us, but I was nearly in tears by this point. Eventually, I came up with a saucepan - it was the biggest container I could find. Would I be able to aim straight? Would I be able to balance over it and not fall A-over-T or knock the damn thing over, like Mr Bean? Would it be big enough (I REALLY needed a wee)? And would we ever be willing it to use it again? I realised I didn't much care - the price of a new saucepan was a price well worth paying by this point.
Just as I'd pulled down my PJs and was stood poised and ready, we heard from Dylan again. 'I need a wee!' Seriously? A little background information: Dylan has never been good at such things when camping - he worries about splashing himself, being seen, etc., so the logistics of a nighttime wee with a half-asleep Dylan were never going to be good. Add this to the fact that he would have had to stand at least slightly outside the tent - in the middle of the storm - to be able to aim and ensure the tent didn't get flooded in a whole different way. The final straw was that I needed it so badly that I didn't think my body would be able to cope with hearing him go - and there definitely wasn't room in that saucepan for two.
I finally realised that we had no choice but to go out in the storm. I swapped my PJ trousers for shorts and put on my raincoat (which, unlike the She-Wee, thankfully wasn't in the car). I made Dylan take off his onesie and put on his raincoat. 'But everyone will see me in my pants!' whined Dylan. 'It will be embarrassing!' Don't think you really need to worry about that in the middle of a thunderstorm, Dylan. Everyone will be safely tucked up in their tent where I want to be, and not wandering the campsite at midnight in the rain... But actually, he was right. As we ran across the campsite in the pouring rain, trying not to listen to the thunder or think about how long (or short) there was between the lightning bolts and the thunderclaps, we were watched with some interest by a man who obviously thought it was a good idea to stand outside and watch the storm (or wait for mad women who needed the toilet in the middle of the night).
The good news is we both made it on time, which was a bloody miracle. The unsurprising news is we were both soaked by the time we got back to the tent (thank goodness the towels weren't in the car). The slightly surprising news is that it was actually weirdly exhilarating running outside in a thunderstorm. The reassuring news is that the tent made it through the rest of the night without leaking, breaking or blowing away.
Lessons for next time: Storms normally sound worse from inside a tent than they actually are. Tents can stand up to quite a lot (but make sure those guy ropes are tightly pegged in). Never leave the She-Wee in the car. Always bring several large, lidded containers in case of nighttime emergencies. Given the forecast for Wales over the next few weeks, I suspect we'll be putting these lessons into practice...!
