I write this post finally dry looking out at the rain rather than drowning in it. My partner (renowned artist and Disney Channel star Hillary Duff) and I embraced water in its many forms since we left our last Airbnb. As we made our way back to nights in campsites and tents, we foolishly assumed that with all trails closed for forest fires, we'd at least have some sunny dry days on the beach. Wrong.
Pro Travel Tip: Visit Nova Scotia when all the trails are closed AND there's an endless downpour. One night, I saw only 4 sites used in a 200 site campground. You get the whole place to yourself! I'll be starting a new Travel Channel show called Forest Fires, Flash Floods, and Free Time, stay tuned.
The first two nights were bearable, with some moderate rain that made a couple damp spots in the tent. But we got Sasha on a couple beach runs with total freedom and made the most of it reading etc.
Night three was the tipping point. We finally gave up on cooking in the rain, and made our way into Pictou, Nova Scotia for a wonderful meal inside. The rain even seemed to be slowing down on the drive into town! As we finished up creamy chowder, crisp salads, and chocolate cake, my eyes kept looking out the window. The rain was getting harder and harder. Sheets were coming down across the bay, and I could barely see the car across the parking lot. I had to drag myself out of the warm embrace of the restaurant, fearing what awaited us at the campsite.
Sure enough, the tent was already sagging under its own drenched weight. The sides were soaked and covered in mud from aggressive raindrop splashes. The temperature had dropped again to below 50 F. It was at this moment we should have turned back and found a warm and dry room in town. Alas, we ignored all the sage wisdom from my last post about being flexible and not being a hero and entered the tent.
The inside of the tent was already starting to get seriously wet on the sides. We tried to read for a bit, but eventually succumbed to sleeplessly tossing and turning, trying to avoid any contact with the sides. Ranger asserted dominance and claimed the only truly dry part of the tent, dead in the middle, pushing us further to the sides. The bottom of the tent was a puddle beneath the ground pads by the end of the night. I probably slept negative three hours.
We scrambled out as soon as we felt daylight seep through. The world outside showed how intense this rain really was. The babbling brook next to the campsite had become a raging river that was now cutting the beach in half so deeply we couldn't walk over it. Lawns and farm fields had become pools and ponds. Everything was completely saturated with rain water.
We've definitely turned it around since then with a pre-planned Airbnb with a wood fired stove, a stop at a Nordic spa with hot pools / saunas, and hot meals cooked inside. The chill that seeped through our bones has finally melted away. Now we head back into some camping, but it's looking only cloudy not rainy. I'll take it!
Sasha sidenote: You may have been wondering, where was Sasha during this Biblical flood? Sasha unfortunately has a habit of suffering very silently. Just a few weeks ago, we had to get a tooth removed that we hadn't noticed decaying because she continued to gnaw bones, sticks, and tennis balls directly on it without any indication of pain. So what did she do when the tent became a marsh? She curled up in the puddle at the foot of the tent, which generally is a very dry section. When I checked on her a little later, half her body was soaked and shivering. I quickly pulled her up protesting onto my ground pad with a blanket. I'm not sure what causes her to ignore pain and discomfort. Could be part of her breed, designed to survive harsh elements with the military. Maybe she sometimes doesn't think she deserves comfort. Either way, I'll keep pulling her up into my sleeping bag to keep her warm and dry whether she wants it or not.
Pro Travel Tip: Visit Nova Scotia when all the trails are closed AND there's an endless downpour. One night, I saw only 4 sites used in a 200 site campground. You get the whole place to yourself! I'll be starting a new Travel Channel show called Forest Fires, Flash Floods, and Free Time, stay tuned.
The first two nights were bearable, with some moderate rain that made a couple damp spots in the tent. But we got Sasha on a couple beach runs with total freedom and made the most of it reading etc.
Night three was the tipping point. We finally gave up on cooking in the rain, and made our way into Pictou, Nova Scotia for a wonderful meal inside. The rain even seemed to be slowing down on the drive into town! As we finished up creamy chowder, crisp salads, and chocolate cake, my eyes kept looking out the window. The rain was getting harder and harder. Sheets were coming down across the bay, and I could barely see the car across the parking lot. I had to drag myself out of the warm embrace of the restaurant, fearing what awaited us at the campsite.
Sure enough, the tent was already sagging under its own drenched weight. The sides were soaked and covered in mud from aggressive raindrop splashes. The temperature had dropped again to below 50 F. It was at this moment we should have turned back and found a warm and dry room in town. Alas, we ignored all the sage wisdom from my last post about being flexible and not being a hero and entered the tent.
The inside of the tent was already starting to get seriously wet on the sides. We tried to read for a bit, but eventually succumbed to sleeplessly tossing and turning, trying to avoid any contact with the sides. Ranger asserted dominance and claimed the only truly dry part of the tent, dead in the middle, pushing us further to the sides. The bottom of the tent was a puddle beneath the ground pads by the end of the night. I probably slept negative three hours.
We scrambled out as soon as we felt daylight seep through. The world outside showed how intense this rain really was. The babbling brook next to the campsite had become a raging river that was now cutting the beach in half so deeply we couldn't walk over it. Lawns and farm fields had become pools and ponds. Everything was completely saturated with rain water.
We've definitely turned it around since then with a pre-planned Airbnb with a wood fired stove, a stop at a Nordic spa with hot pools / saunas, and hot meals cooked inside. The chill that seeped through our bones has finally melted away. Now we head back into some camping, but it's looking only cloudy not rainy. I'll take it!
Sasha sidenote: You may have been wondering, where was Sasha during this Biblical flood? Sasha unfortunately has a habit of suffering very silently. Just a few weeks ago, we had to get a tooth removed that we hadn't noticed decaying because she continued to gnaw bones, sticks, and tennis balls directly on it without any indication of pain. So what did she do when the tent became a marsh? She curled up in the puddle at the foot of the tent, which generally is a very dry section. When I checked on her a little later, half her body was soaked and shivering. I quickly pulled her up protesting onto my ground pad with a blanket. I'm not sure what causes her to ignore pain and discomfort. Could be part of her breed, designed to survive harsh elements with the military. Maybe she sometimes doesn't think she deserves comfort. Either way, I'll keep pulling her up into my sleeping bag to keep her warm and dry whether she wants it or not.