"Red Sky At Morn...Sailors Be Warned"

Why you sometimes SHOULD have technology on a camping trip.

We had been out canoeing on the seemingly infinite chain of lakes for the past two days. Tired of rowing, we decided to settle on an island and relax for the afternoon--a seemingly innocent plan.

Seemingly innocent. Like Hello Kitty.

Sodas and snacks in tow, we headed offshore toward our destination: a small island just brief row away from our campsite.

Paddling happily along, it was a beautiful day. Blue sky above us and a light breeze at our back, it was like one of those ridiculously happy 80's montages.

Upon reaching the island, some hicks with inner tubes were trying to blow up our spot. Banjo strumming, wife-beaters, and actual wife-beating came to mind.

There was no way that we were going to let a bunch of tools like them swindle us out of a day on the best island in the whole lake. It's a matter of pride and principle (not to be confused with Pride and Prejudice).

Brazen, bold, and staring oversized mothafuckin' daggers with the intent to burst their rubber bubbles, we staged an awkward psychological battle with them the likes of which could only truly be captured in a Lord Of The Rings movie.

Ever so slowly, and with the most deliberate of maneuvers, we took our sweet, sweet time unpacking our provisions on the island. We might have even been forced to share the spot with them, had their psyches not been shattered by our mental blitzkrieg.

We had our spot at last, perhaps at the expense of the inner-tubers' sanity.

It wasn't much, our little island, but we had claimed it for ourselves. There were a few trees, a big rock with a hardy little tree growing on it, pine needles, some other seasonal detritus, and us.

So there we were, just the two of us, babbling away about nothing, when the darkness began to descend upon us from behind.

At first it was difficult to notice. It could have just been a passing cloud.

No.

As we peered around in our chairs, it was very clear that the atmosphere was about to shit on us with explosive diarrhea. The wind began to stir up whitecaps on the surface of the lake, and trees started to sway as it picked up the tempo.

The wind didn't just freak us out, it almost sank our canoe that was moored off the side of the island. As we ran to the boat's rescue, a truly unfortunate thing happened.

Having noticed my immense popularity, the lake, in a jealous rage, flooded my phone's circuitry with a fatal amount of water.

Now, I'm not one to grieve over technology too much, but that phone had 4 years of numbers in it. You know how you keep the numbers of the people you hate, just in case they ever find the nerve to talk to you again, or in case you want to "accidentally" drunkenly-insult them? Or remember that person you liked a long time ago? Remember that impossible feeling of triumph you got when you craftily got them to give you their number? All of that was snatched from me by a drop in barometric pressure and a clash between hot and cold air.

Despite my tragic loss, the typhoon carried on, in Biblical fashion. Heartless. Ruthless.
Like Hello Kitty.

The rain was horizontal on account of the driving wind, and there was almost no place to hide from the elements. The lake, which was warmer than the air, would have been a tempting option if there hadn't been the constant threat of being viciously electrocuted.

 The sky shat copious bolts of lightning from its sky-ass. Aside from the flashes, the sky was pitch black, and it was only the mid-afternoon. Thunderclaps barely drowned out my girly shrieks of terror.

Freezing, and certain that end was not only nigh, but in attendance, we were amazed to notice that the storm appeared to be letting up. Then, we heard a cry from somewhere out on the lake.

I'd know that screech anywhere.

Mom.

She told us to head back to shore before the storm got it's shit together and continued to pummel us.

Something changed in us at that moment. If this is how we got to the island:

Then this is how we got back:

I don't know where we found the strength to row so fast without the actual help of a space rocket, but we flew, frenzied, to shore, where our campsite had all but been ripped apart. My tent had gotten most of its stakes torn out of the ground and was warped into a shape that would not have been conducive to sleeping, standing, sitting, crawling, or comfortably being dead.

On everyone's phones (except mine, R.I.P.) were phone calls from relatives and messages asking if we'd heard about the massive storm ripping through the area.

Suffice it to say, we hadn't. That evening, as we restored our campsite to its former glory, I brainstormed this post. And so we have come full circle.

D