After successfully helicoptering out our injured, we were ready to camp for the night. The campsite looked like a fairly nice one - lots of room, the sand was dry despite the prior night's rain and there was easy access to the river for washing and ablutions. We unloaded the boats and made camp.
(This is actually a photo of the following night's campsite. It looks similar though. Just pretend and use your imagination)
It had started to get a bit windy by this time, and maybe there was a hint of thunder. This made it a bit trickier to put the tents up, but not too bad as long as there were two people. We had two people, me and Pete (I did have to run over to help out someone else who was trying to do it on her own at one point - it looked like she and her tent were about to be carried off like a kite). We just about got the tent erected when the storm proper started.
The guides had mentioned that it was monsoon season but I think we thought they were joking. The Canyon's a notoriously dry place!
To avoid getting our gear all wet, we slung all the bags into the tent. Unfortunately, this wasn't enough to stop the tent being blown about so we dived in ourselves and closed the door behind us. It rained and blew and thundered and lightninged. It was a helluva storm. And we had no real choice but to stay in the tent and ride it out, whilst simultaneously trying to ensure the tent vaguely kept its shape and hoping that it wouldn't tear.
This storm was not sufficient to lift a tent with two fully grown men and all our gear. We survived. Hah - crap storm!
Anyway, part way through the storm we realised that not everyone else had stayed in their tents. Either because they'd found a more sheltered spot to camp, or they had heavier rocks to tie the tent to or their tent was at a better angle to ride the wind, for whatever reason they had been able to head back to the boat grab some beer and snacks and then climb to a fully sheltered alcove in a nearby cliff. From here they were able to survey the campsite and regard the storm with scorn.
Neither of us were able to leave the tent and join them since the tent would have blown away or become distorted beyond repair but we could maybe still have a beer... We shouted for a beer but none was forthcoming. We shouted again for a beer but still none was forthcoming. After some minutes, Matt (another member of our British contingent) left his tent, which was seemingly able to cope with just one person left inside as ballast, to go and get some beer. "Yay!" we thought. Matt would bring us some beer. And sure enough he emerged from the boat with some beers which he carried back up to the campsite.
He then changed direction and took all the beers up to the cliff alcove! Bastard!
Some time passed and eventually the winds abated to a level where we were able to leave the tent to its own devices. We headed up to the cliff ourselves where pretty much everyone else had gathered by this time and drank some beer and ate some crackers and salmon. It all tasted good.
Later, after dinner (spaghetti bolognaise, I think) it had dried up enough to make sleeping outside possible. This turned out to be the first night that the skies were clear enough for us to see stars at night. Millions of stars. I don't think I've ever seen a night sky like it. The Milky Way was clearly visible as a white band across the sky. Constellations glistened, mostly un-named since nobody could remember more than a couple of them. Shooting stars were shooting all over the place. I could have lain there all night just looking up and thinking. I did lay there all night, but after a while I slept.
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