First Morning at Cape Perpetua, Oregon Coast

Last night it started raining after the sun completely set. Our neighbors had apparently gone to bed—I saw no more smoke coming from the next camp. As the rain transitioned to a steady shower—too much for having a book open outdoors—we ultimately decided to put out the fire and go to bed.

I was surprised at how much water I had to pour on the fire before it was completely out, with not so much as a single orange glowing dot. I kept returning to the faucet and getting more—it must have been six canteens full. But I enjoyed it, oddly enough. As I poured the water, the diminishing bonfire smoked a bit, in grey billows.

The rain poured steadily, more than a drizzle (well, by Oregon standards) by this time.

It rained all night. I woke up numerous times—I lay in my tent thinking I had to go pee really badly but I didn’t want to walk to the restroom in the rain. I lay listening to the roaring brook in the background and the steady tapping of rain on the tent. I fell asleep quickly each time I woke up, which must have been about five time. On a couple of these occasions, it was raining heavily.

Despite all that, I was perfectly dry in my tent. I had told Audrey about the Society for Creative Anachronisms (SCA) because my previous experience of camping was with the SCA. Technically, I’d done it twice, but on one of these occasions I didn’t have a tent and got in my car and drove off in the middle of the night.

On the other SCA camping occasion, I had a borrowed tent. I remember it was a similar night: temps in the 50s and steady, heavy rain. My tent leaked, and I woke up in the middle of the night shivering convulsively. I wasn’t dressed appropriately—just a tunic and cotton leggings—and didn’t know anything about fleece or not wearing cotton when you’re hiking/camping. My quilt (I didn’t even have a sleeping bag) got wet thanks to the leaky tent.

But on this occasion, at Cape Perpetua, I had a much better tent and remained dry and comfortable. The thermal pad in my sleeping bag was helpful—I made a point of staying on top of it so I wasn’t in contact with the cold, wet ground (through the tent floor and footprint, of course) while I lay in my sleeping bag.

The last time I woke was at dawn. Perhaps 4:30 am. It had stopped raining, so I went out to use the restroom at last. The sky was just light enough for me to walk to the restroom without a flashlight. This is the Pacific Northwest in summer—maybe it was closer to 4 am. I went back to my tent and lay meditating (with a lot of mind wandering) till I heard Audrey stirring. We sat at the picnic table and had tea (her jet boiler, a gas-powered device for boiling water, worked great now), and I munched on cherries and the wonderful granola I had impulsively picked up at the grocery store in Portland: it includes dark chocolate and dried strawberries and dried raspberries.