Across Continents

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Four pegs

Woken about one am. Wind had risen sharply. Rain had returned. Conscious I’d avoided sinking into the quagmire by pitching on a concrete slab. But only able to secure the tent with a few guy lines. Four pegs. Hoping that’d be enough. Dome appearing top flex alarmingly with the gusts. Amplified by the gloom.

windsigns

Suddenly remembered the signs I’d seen around the park. "Beware falling limbs". Council liability disclaimer for high winds. Thinking I should have pitched in the relative shelter of the camp kitchen as "Two Bob" had suggested. But by then it’d been dark. The tent already wet. Too much hassle.

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