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Tales of Whoa! Tales of weather

I was packed. Trailer with its brand new awning hooked up behind the truck. All that remained to do was get a hair cut.

My motorcycle trip this year started a little differently. We had decided to go back to Tellico Plains, Tennessee. Wayne (my husband), would join me a week later on the bike. I had decided to tow the toybox and join Chris (the General) and Cath who were leaving a week early.

The General and Cathy were patiently waiting while I got my new hairdo. I could have planned this a little better, I suppose.

As soon as I pulled up, they revved up their truck. The diesel engine rumbled, the turbo whistled, he was ready to roll! Chris gave me the thumbs up as he pulled away. I pulled in behind him and turned on the two-way radio. It was noon and we were on the move. The entire drive would take about 14 hours and we planned to finish about nine hours the first day.

Our first three hours, however, proved to be the worst. The drive to the US border in Windsor has to be the most boring stretch of asphalt ever designed: a perfectly flat straight piece of highway cutting through Ontario farmland.

At the Peace Bridge, the US customs officer quizzed me as to my destination, how long I was staying, why I was travelling alone and whether I had any uncooked chicken in the toybox. He never did ask me for my passport, and luckily I wasn't carrying "uncooked chicken". No bird flu carried into the US of A by Kit!

I wonder if travelling alone is against the "rules"? The implication conveyed was, "where is your man." The nerve of that guy! I wonder if he asks men the same question or just middle-aged women pulling RV's? I wonder how many middle-aged women pull RV's alone? I had already decided that if I were alone someday I would still travel with my trailer. Maybe I'd get a dog. All campers have a dog. Funny what goes through the mind when driving alone.

I lost Chris at a traffic light but didn't worry. I would catch up. Soon I heard his voice over the radio warning me that there had been a traffic accident. It had just occurred.

"Move into the centre lane as fast as you can," he told me, "Glass and metal are all over the roadway."

Now it is a little tricky to move a trailer and truck over two lanes in a hurry during the beginning of rush hour and so I only managed to move one, when in front of me shattered glass and chunks of metal covered the lane. I avoided the metal but drove over the glass.

Thankfully I had harassed Wayne the week before to get a Canadian Automobile Association (CAA) membership for me. I figured if I got a flat tire, well, I had CAA!

Eight hours down I-75 we were looking for a campground to spend the night. We pulled in just as darkness settled. The camping looked clean, and at US$23.40, it was very inexpensive. The proprietor bid us a good evening and as we left the registration office, he mentioned that there was the odd train that would be coming by.

After a quick meal we turned in. No sooner did I get comfortable than in the distance I heard a rumble. It became louder and seconds later the whistle of the oncoming train nearly blew me out of my skin! I sat straight up and I honestly feared the thing was coming through the trailer. MY GOD! The tracks were just on the other side of the road! Every hour another one rolled by. By the time morning came I was beside myself, not having slept my eyes burned, my head pounded. I was not a happy camper!

Chris and Cathy had little more sleep than I did and so the three of us were pretty quiet at breakfast, nursing headaches.

We had another five to six hours before we would arrive in Tellico and life would be good again.

Early afternoon, we arrived in Madisonville to pick up groceries. We had arrived safe and sound and I hadn't needed to call the American Automobile Association, CAA's sister organization, for any issues. Wayne would be annoyed having spent the money for no reason!

I registered at the KOA said hello to all the staff who we had met the previous year. The temperature was hovering at 95°F (35°C) while I set up camp. I dripped with sweat, which is not a pretty sight, but I managed to get the trailer all organized, including my new awning rolled out, with no problem.

Having spent some time working in a large garden for the owners of a trailer park, I had bartered for the new awning and it looked pretty cool: a black and white checkered flag blowing in the wind. I was pretty pleased with my deal.

The pool at the KOA is rarely busy during weekdays so we all enjoyed the water without being splashed by little ones. Sorry to those with kids but once you have finished raising your children, one seems to have less tolerance for Marco ….Polo , outside voices and the like.

That evening dinner was a simple steak and while eating one of the employees of the park drove up in his electric golf cart (a must for retirees) to give us the latest weather forecast. "Storm expected to roll in by about 8:30 tonight," he informed us, "but don't worry they tend to bypass this valley most of the time and if we don't have anything by 9:00 pm, we should be clear." That sounded OK to us. Furthermore, the sky was blue and there was not a cloud to be seen.

The fateful hour arrived. Other than a few clouds over the hills, it seemed liked we would miss this "storm."

Cathy, Chris and I were enjoying the evening looking out over the mountains in the distance from the wraparound porch at the campground office. There were a few rumblings of thunder in the distance and I commented that the storm might be coming in after all. Chris wasn't convinced. At that very moment, I felt a strange gust of wind that felt "odd" to me. In a sudden rush of panic I started to walk, then run toward my trailer and more importantly my NEW AWNING!! It was a mere 100 yards away but suddenly it may as well have been a kilometer. My traveling companions were walking behind me. By now I was running full tilt. The wind was like a wind I have not felt before. It was 9:15 PM and our trusty weather guy was wrong!

I fought to undo the brackets holding my awning upright. Chris had just reached their site but I couldn't see how they were making out.

The fellow across the road from me had just managed to get his awning rolled up. He struggled against the wind to come and assist me. My awning was jammed on one side. With all the muscle I could muster, I held onto it, all the while shouting "no, no, not my new awning!"

I finally managed with Steve, the neighbour, to get it rolled up.

Tremendous gusts picked up gravel from the roads and whipped it literally sideways. I tried to look around the front corner of the trailer but the wind allowed me only a quick glance. My outdoor area carpet was flapping and I decided to prevent it from becoming air bound. With one hand, I dragged the picnic table closer and then on top of the rug I was holding down with the other hand and my foot. Adrenaline allows one to do the otherwise impossible tasks, I found out that evening.

With those two feats accomplished, I retreated into my trailer, decided to sit on the floor while lightning, thunder and torrents of rain came down all around us. The lights flickered on and off and I have to say I was distraught not knowing whether to stay in my portable home or run to a ditch. I looked out my rear window and to my dismay saw Chris and Cathy's awning flapping in the wind. It had broken away from the trailer. He was sitting on his steps just hanging on, trying to salvage the remains.

Half an hour later, the wind subsided, the lightning stopped and the rain sprinkled. I had survived and my awning was in one piece! Living in a tin box gives you a completely different view of storms. I can't imagine those people living through a real hurricane like Katrina. This was not even half of the weather they had to endure.

Chris was able to do a fix on his awning for the remainder of the vacation. The next day, the news reported that the wind reached 60 miles per hour (96 kilometres per hour). This would be the first of many more days where weather played with my mind. I rolled my awning up and down like a yo- yo over the next three weeks and never again will I laugh at that cute little man riding around on his golf cart giving us his weather warnings. I learned to listen each and every time.