MP's comment about enjoying storms but having his pants blown away by one bad one made me think this might be a good topic for a little humor or enlightenment.

  I like a good storm but only when I'm battened down dry and safe somewhere.
Never had any of my stuff blow away because I have a habit of tying everything off even when there is no storm in sight. A lesson learned from the misery of others.  ;) ;D ;D

This happened years ago when I was a tandem paddler with 3 other guys. We were on the St Croix River that runs along the border of Maine and New Brunswick Canada.

We were on a section of river that was about ½ mile wide. Basically a wind tunnel depending on weather conditions.

It was just starting to get buggy and when we stopped for the night one of the guys decided to pitch his brand new tent on the little sand beach take-out rather than up in the woods near the fire-pit area.

  We started making dinner as the rain clouds rolled in and the wind picked up. I asked him if he was sure he wanted to camp there and he assured me he was glad to be away from the bugs and had used all his stakes so his tent was good to go.

     Pretty soon there were whitecaps on the river and the wind was starting to howl. His tent was shaking pretty good and I asked him again if he wanted me to help him bring it up to the sheltered site?

     He was right in the middle of telling me he was getting “tired' of me second-guessing him when his tent tore loose and headed down the river like a runaway beach ball.

     I didn't want to go out in the storm, but he was going alone so I went with him. We put on PFD's and hugged the shoreline following the errant tent. About a mile down the river, it made a sharp dog leg and the tent was hung up on the shoreline.

     The thing that saved his bacon was he had it all zipped up and when it flipped upside down his sleeping bag and clothes went to the 'keel” and that kept the tent from filling with water.

     All his gear was intact, although soaking wet. He didn't even lose his tent stakes. They were the thin wire type, not meant for sand but had the loop on end so they stayed with the tent body/guy lines.

     We waited till the storm passed, loaded the tent in the canoe in one piece and paddled back to the campsite and hauled it up into woods. Dried his gear on the campfire and ALL had a good laugh at his expense.

     Needless to say, he learned his lesson but realized he was a very lucky guy. If not for that dog leg we would have never caught that tent until it reached the river's mouth on the Bay of Fundy.