A big storm was coming in from Texas and I decided to remove the awning from The Tiny. The awning was ridiculously expensive at $425, but the quality is impeccable, as is the company that makes them. This camping trip was only my second time using the awning, and only my second time camping in The Tiny. I wanted to prevent regrets about actions not taken.
Based on advice from a T@B Facebook group, I decided not to risk the awning getting broken or torn. Most everyone said: take it down. One guy said he always leaves his up, using all the guy lines and staking points provided, and he never had a problem. I looked at his FB page and saw that his profile picture shows him whitewater rafting in Canada. He’s obviously a risk taker. Me, not so much. So down it went. And stowed it was.
Then I turned my attention to the Clam Pavilion. The friend I had been camping with suggested before she left that I set the guy lines on a least three sides of my Clam. The Air Force neighbor in the 40-ft. RV who came by for a tour suggested I roll up the tarp so that it was inside the perimeter of the Clam. His advice was sound, but the execution was sloppy. I wasn’t careful enough, it turns out, on the side where the kitchen table is set up.
By the time I went to bed, everything was battened down and secure. The rain started up around 10 and I cracked open a window to let in the fresh air. It didn’t seem to me like it rained all that much.
The Clam and The Tiny in the morning, after the storm.
In the morning, I check out the scene: lots of standing water in the campground. Later the Air Force guy said it was a nasty storm with lots of rain. I’m starting to believe that this little T@B with its 2 in. of solid foam insulation and fiberglass shell is pretty solid. I have no doubts going forward that The Tiny is a storm trooper.
I checked out the Clam. It looked like a bunker with all it’s solid panels zipped down. It’s a mighty good thing my friend suggested the guy lines to secure the walls. Had I not done that, the Clam would have collapsed in on itself, a process that is pretty sweet when you’re packing up to leave and you can collapse it and stow it within literally 3 minutes. But when camp is set up, you don’t want those walls collapsing.
On the tarp, there was some water from where I got sloppy rolling it up. Now I know: Stormwater doesn’t mess around. You give it an opening, it will take the opening. So I took some time to mop that up. Other than that, everything was dry on the writing desk and the kitchen counter. I opened up the solid panels, the sun came out, the birds seemed extra happy, and my writing today went well. I turned in stuff and served my clients.
When I saw my Air Force guy and his wife out walking their dogs, he noted that the Clam had held up well. I started to mention my bad tarp action and the water on the floor and he kind of waved it off. The message I got was: Let’s focus on the positive. This guy doesn’t mind when things go right for other people. He even celebrates it. More like him, please.
In the morning, I had to decide if I should reinstall the awning. I will be leaving tomorrow and I wondered if it was worth it. Luckily I was thinking straight and I took the 10 minutes required to have a covered front porch for the day.
Having been through this storm, which was neither weak nor massive, I know what to do and I know I can do it. Sitting in my woodland writing studio while my dog rested on her bed on the covered porch between walks, listening to the birds, taking in the acres of trees, I found myself pondering, thinking, going inside, getting into that writers mind that isn’t always easy to get into. I thought: Yes. This is it. This is what I wanted.