My wife and I had arranged to spend a weekend camping with some good friends from our, then, recent college days, circa 1974. They were to arrive at Orchard Beach State Park two days behind us. It was a beautiful area. The campground was situated on a bluff overlooking Lake Michigan so access to spectacular sunsets every evening was the norm, or at least would have been had the weather cooperated. It looked somewhat threatening but we could not be certain if it was going to rain or not. No matter however; we were quite prepared, and a wet night in our cozy little tent was still an exciting venture.
At that time we didn't own much in the way of camping equipment. In fact, the tent we did have was on loan from my wife's parents. It was an ancient dark green canvas umbrella tent with a center pole. It was older than dirt and darn heavy. You would never close the windows and the doors in this thing. That was like putting a plastic bag over your head… suffocating. And in hot weather being inside that thing was akin to being the Pillsbury Dough Boy in an Easy Bake oven! But at night it afforded more than adequate protection from the elements and provided a safe environment.
Late that evening as we lay resting in our sleeping bags, I on one side of the pole and my wife on the other, (NOT convenient), we noticed the patter of light rain on the top of the tent. We were not concerned, of course, because our tent, the impenetrable precursor to Kevlar, would protect us. As the rain continued, we drifted off to sleep for a spell. It could have been a couple hours later when I was awakened by a somewhat steady drip of water on the side of my head. Grabbing the flashlight I noticed a tiny little hole around the center grommet at the top of the pole. It looked harmless enough but certainly was enough to allow just a small bit of water to drip into the tent. Our solution for that was to stuff a towel over the umbrella supports below grommet to catch the water so that it wouldn't interrupt our sleep. It rained relatively hard but we remained dry. As the rain subsided so did any concerns that we had. That is, until the wind came up! The walls of the tent heaved intensely as the wind, accompanied by more rain, lashed at us. Still I felt secure albeit a bit uneasy. All we could do was attempt to go back to sleep which proved to be altogether futile. Suddenly, there was a --RRRRIIP!-- The grommet at the top of the tent gave way completely and the entire tent collapsed on top of us! I scrambled out of my sleeping bag and made my way to the front of the tent. Holding the tent up with one hand and grasping at things with the other, I worked feverishly to salvage what I could from the pouring rain. Susan, wrapped snuggly in her sleeping bag, giggled as I did what I could to make the best of a really hopeless situation. She did not seem to grasp the severity of the situation. When she caught the stack of wet napkins I tossed back at her, it became more clear. Needless to say, we abandoned the tent for the rest of the night for the relative comfort of the car.
The morning greeted us with sunshine and fair skies. We were in good spirits, regardless of our situation. Even then, we were old pros at this camping thing. We knew that there were too many good times yet to be had to let a little nasty weather alter our outlook on the great outdoors.
An Umbrella In Name Only - by Gene Haulenbeek
