Port In a Storm

Posted on by Wynne Leon

On this past Saturday morning, I was sitting on my meditation cushion on a dark, blustery morning in a room lit only by candles, listening to a storm lash the branches against the side of the house and the rain hit the windows of the French doors in front of me.

There’s nothing like a storm to make me grateful for being inside. In fact, sitting inside with a blanket, a cup of tea, and a book during a storm is one of my favorite things. It’s probably because it’s an automatic path to gratitude for me.

It makes me think of the worst storm I endured on a mountain. We were climbing Mt. Whitney in the winter of 2005. Mt. Whitney is the tallest peak in the lower 48 of the United States at 14,505 feet. When we arrived to set up camp at a wide flat shoulder on the mountain at around 12,000 feet elevation, the guide let us know we would not be climbing higher in the morning. A storm was coming in. It was predicted to bring 60-90 mile/hour winds.

So we set up the tents with a foreboding feeling of waiting it out. Usually, we’d set up a kitchen spot as well. I don’t recall that we did that or a meal as a group that evening although it could be that what came next was so dramatic that I don’t remember.

When the storm started raging, the three of us in our tent: my friend, Jill, another climber on the trip, Patti, and I sat with our backs to the windy side just to prevent it from flattening the tent altogether. It felt like we sat like that for an eternity, feeling how thin tent material actually is no matter what its durability is. The angry and threatening sounds that whipped around our little camp could have inspired the scariest of horror stories. In fact, I’m guessing similar storms probably have.

When morning came and the storm died down, we all emerged from the tents like Zombies. Transformed by the night, we were all a little startled to still be shuffling along.

And yet the tents held and no one was injured. We spent most of the day climbing down, and out to the town below. Once there, we discovered that the top wind speed was like 63 mph. In other words, it could have been way worse.

Yep, I couldn’t be more grateful for my couch and fuzzy blanket. Just thinking of this gives me warmth from the inside out.

(featured photo from Pexels)

33 thoughts on “Port In a Storm”

  3. You’re there waiting out a frightening storm, making sure to help your fellow climbers. How would I have reacted on top of the mountain? I would’ve been on my phone, calling 911. “What do you mean you can’t come get us?” If no service, yup, I would’ve been the guy curdled up in a corner, giving up and making a nuisance of myself!!! Wow, yes, I’m very grateful Wynne. Thank you for the powerful reminder!!!!

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    1. Ha – you’re hilarious, Brian. My experience tells me that being too exhausted to panic is a big factor in the reaction. I think your clear communication experience would kick in and you’d be leading the pack! 🙂

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  6. I feel this! I arrived in Vancouver Friday night as that same storm system was doing its worst. I had to wait almost an hour for a hotel shuttle because the taxi line at the airport was about 100-deep. By the time I arrived at the hotel, I was damp and cold. Luckily my daughter had some nice herbal tea bags with her and there was a kettle in the room. Bliss!

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  10. That sounded like such an intense evening, Wynne. I can imagine both how frightening and exhausting it was but also a good bonding experience.

    I’m with you. Storm are lovely to watch and enjoy. From the warm inside.

    I think you would make a great contestant on Survivor. You gotta give it a try!

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  11. Not really comparable because we were indoors, but this brought back memories of gathering with my family in the basement, wondering if the tornadoes seen nearby would touch down.

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