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| Piankatank River |
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| More of the Piankatank |
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| Chesapeake Bay |
HOWEVER, as soon as the sun set the mayhem began. I noticed my hands felt tingly and my feet were so swollen I though they would burst! Was it all the sodium in that bloody mary? No... I drank that hours before and I'm a stickler for chugging water when sun and/or alcohol are involved. Why did I feel light-headed and groggy? And why did my face feel hot?
Because I'm apparently allergic to my dinner. I asked the bartender what fish my fish n' chips (oh so healthy) consisted of... you guessed it! Flounder. Haven't had it since I was a kid. Turns out my Dad's allergic too. And according to the good people studying this sort of thing at the University of Michigan, a person's chance of developing an allergy is 40 percent if one parent has an allergy. {I'm a sucker for scientific studies. Nerdy but true}
The swelling eventually subsided and we stuck around Charlie's Tiki Bar to watch the fireworks and were soon on our way back to Paul's riverhouse in his 18 foot Sea Chaser. As the fireworks were dazzling our eyeballs, we noticed some heat lightening waaaaaay out in the distance. Paul seemed a bit nervous, but I was convinced it was nothing.
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I appointed myself buoy hunter and kept us on our path back to the Piankatank whilst scouting out any crab pods threatening to slow us down. My dear captain is the super cautious type for which I'm grateful.. and in addition to his strict no drinking policy he doesn't drive the boat very fast. Especially at night.
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| Captain Safety |
Slowly we make our way out of the bay and into the river, enjoying the dozens of fireworks shows dotting the shorelines.
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| Taken from the boat! |
Soon it became apparent that mother nature was rivaling these shows with some displays of her own. At first I was in awe of the beauty of this summer storm that seemed to be close but not too close. I felt I had a front row seat to the most magnificent of natural phenomena!
Suddenly it became very clear that this far off storm wasn't far off at all. It still hadn't rained a drop, but the wind picked up so fiercely at the exact moment I saw double lightening bolts strike the land directly in front of me that I looked at Paul and told him we were in big trouble. We anchored the boat in a nearby sandbar just as it began to rain. The lightening was so intense and so close together, it didn't even seem like nighttime.
I jumped overboard to help guide the boat in the murky waters while trying to avoid rocks/roots/stumps/creatures. Within seconds I felt my shins and ankles burning. The sensation lemon juice being poured on razor burn shot up my legs...reminding me that we were not alone on the banks of this sandbar.
By this point my adrenaline levels were so high the pain was sort of in the background. I was spending all my energy fighting panic and thinking logically. We couldn't risk staying in the boat another moment surrounded by metal on the open water. There wasn't time to go further upriver and find shelter in a house. The sandbar had a modest treeline, but sitting under a tree in a severe thunderstorm wasn't something I was willing to do, either.
Think.. think... no shelter... can't stay on the boat... can't get near the trees... what was it they told us at Girl Scout Camp? ...the rain is getting heavier...lighting striking on all sides... claps of thunder so loud my ears begin to ring...
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| Ironically I snapped this photo of our makeshift shelter a few weeks ago |
We managed to hunker down under a makeshift shelter of driftwood near an embankment. Not too close to trees and not too close to the boat. The eerily calm waters were suddenly crashing waves against our driftwood and the torrential downpour turned to hail. It felt as though we were getting pelted with handfuls of marbles and I was sure I'd have bruises.
The storm raged for 2 hours. We prayed the boat was OK. With every lightening strike I fought the panic a little harder. The temperature dropped into the 60s and we were soaked to the bone. The wind was coming in at 26 miles an hour and I wasn't sure if I was shaking uncontrollably from cold or sheer terror.
Finally the wind and rain subsided and we sat in wait for the lightening to stop. Every time we made a move to leave our shelter and get back to the boat, the sky would light up with a grand web of lighting that sent us back into the sand. Eventually mother nature allowed us to gingerly make our way back to the river house. I have to admit, it was one helluva way to bring in the 4th of July.
On the way back to Richmond, I heard Bad Moon Rising and thought to myself... God really is a DJ.
