Another Day of Storms

The rig at Big Bend.



The sun was well up when Mother Nature’s alarm clock (birds in the cedars behind me) woke me up.  Neither Jean, in the RV, or myself had gotten much sleep through the storms.  We took turns taking a nap.  I was then awakened by the sound of a large mower, and then the sound of gravel and sticks hitting the side of the RV.  The operator was running the mover both with the guard or deflector up, and with the discharge directed at the trailers and vehicles.  It was almost like it was deliberate as he would make circles around and around each unit, but always blowing debris toward the campers and trucks.  Thinking of the tent up on the hill, I got up.  Jean said, “If you are concerned about the tent, he has already been up there.”   As I got dressed, I looked out and saw him with a weed whacker.  Considering how careless he’d been already with the mower, I was not about to let him around the tent with a weed whacker.  He continued down the park, but I walked up the hill.  I was not happy with what I found.

 

 

Ibi sitting on her PaddleCart.  The Falcon Sail is furled and laying

on the left side of the cockpit coaming, which shows how compact

the furled rig is.

 

With the deflector up and the mower deck flat on the ground, he had run around and around the tent blowing toward the tent.  He had covered it in a thick blanket of grass, dirt, and debris.  All of that was also blown under the fly and against the mesh of the tent.  Without bothering to look, I knew what the inside and all of my bedding would look like.  I called the Corps of Engineers, and they sent out the manager of contractual services, who in turn called the work crew supervisor to the scene of the crime.  I think this was the first time I’ve ever filed a complaint that could affect someone’s job, but I allow little tolerance for stupidity, incompetence, or wilfull destruction.  They offered to help in any way they could, but the damage had been done.  I mainly wanted someone to see how careless the mower operator had been, and did shortly see him mowing with the deflector down and blowing debris away from the vehicles.  Our neighbor was out also looking around his camper.  It had been struck hard enough by a stone that he feared finding a hole.  All I could do was knock the tent down, drag all my gear and bedding out onto the ground to shake the dirt out, and then set it all up again.



The rig is set up dry before going out just to make sure everything

is run properly and thus avoid any issues on the water.  The owner

can select his own colors from Falcon Sails.  I went with hot pink and

chartreuse for maximum visibility.

 

The afternoon had heated substantially, so I had left the fly off until the clouds began to tower high and turn dark around 3 o’clock.  By four, another large squall and thunderstorm began to blow through.  I put the fly back on and anchored everything.  The storm blew through quickly, and after a half-hour, the sun was out again.

 

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