Anyone living on the Canadian prairies or the US Midwest is quite used to the vagaries of nature as displayed through thunderstorms. My most memorable experience of a thunderstorm as a kid was on one of our summer holidays to the states. We were on a trip this time into Montana going over Logan Pass; one of the most incredible and spectacular passes through the Rockies, and the only one through Glacier National Park into Montana. It was late in the evening as we drove down the east side of the pass and into one of the most spectacular sights of my growing up days. I have seen a number of such displays over my lifetime but none fastened itself in my mind with such vividness or intensity since then. This may be the result of an early childhood impression but I like to think otherwise.
As we dropped out of the pass and down the eastern slopes of the Glacier Range we were met with such a display of natures mighty power that I was in awe. I remember the rain coming down in such a mighty cascade that we had to literally stop as my dad realized to keep going meant disaster. What impressed me the most was looking to the eastern horizon with the sun at our backs and seeing dozens of forked bolts streaking toward the ground in profusion. Not to be outdone with the thunder of Hades as bolt after bolt split the ground was the unbelievable pounding of the rain on the roof of the car and the vivid flashes of light as each bolt rent the evening sky.
The drama of that display has never really left me to this day so what happened back on Read Island one fine evening some time later had to be unique to catch my attention, and it did. This particular storm was typical for the island with a few rumbles and the odd boom or two a dozen or so flashes followed by the typical downpour and then it appeared to be all over. Just when we were about to emerge after escaping the storm, suddenly there was an incredibly bright flash followed instantly by a crash and a thundering that would rival any good prairie storm. And then it was over. It seemed with that final outburst that nature had outdone itself and so the storm ended.
On going outside we looked to where the last boom and crash had come from and thought we saw smoke rising above the treetops. Grabbling a fire suppression pack we headed over to check things out. Coming around the point a most incredible sight met our eyes. It appeared that a tree had been hit directly by the last bold of lightening and was burning fiercely at its base. The lightening had used the tree as a lightening rod and in the process had blown a strip of sapwood and bark off, from the top of the tree to its very base and to a thickness of at least four inches deep and a foot wide. What made it so spectacular was that bark and sapwood were blown everywhere on that side of the tree to a distance of fifty feet or more.
After making sure the fire was out at the base of the tree we then checked the surrounding area before we left.
With nature so unpredictable it makes one aware that at any moment nature can throw one at you that will completely take you by surprise.
My last memorable encounter with the power of nature took place one warm summer evening on Lightning Lake in the Chilcotin country. There were three of us that tranquil evening with a clear blue sky and plenty of fish to catch. And the mosquitoes weren’t too bad if you stayed out in the lake away from shore. What a lovely warm evening to catch a few trout.
This particular evening I along with Les, Henry and Doug arrived at Lightening Lake, each got out his rubber dinghy and away we went, to try our luck. What an enjoyable way to while away a summer evening, especially since the trout weren’t biting to badly and we were having fun. If you have ever fished trout, you know the joy of fishing small fish with very light tackle. Big is not necessarily better.
The day had melted into the twilight of a Chilcotin evening, and we were slowly making our way to where the cars were parked. Doug and Henry had already pulled their rubber dinghies out of the lake and were deflating them while Les was just getting out of his.
In the meantime I had been slowly rowing toward shore lost in the pleasure of the moment and delaying my departure to the very end. This was just about my undoing as I little conceived of the nature of the one black cloud that had surreptitiously floated over the lake and now sat directly overhead.
The boom and rumble that suddenly jarred me out of my reverie was so sudden and effusive as to about stop my heart and cast the fear of my immediate demise. With my heart pounding and expecting the next boom to be the last, I threw my line into the boat and took off with extreme terror in my heart. Les on the shore looked in amazement, as it was the only time in his memory that he ever saw a rubber dinghy actually planing like a speedboat.
It was with great relief that I made it to shore and was able to untangle my lines, deflate and stow my dinghy and leave with my friends in the cab and not in the back in a body bag. And would you believe, that was the only sound that ever came from that black cloud. If I was being told something I missed it, but I did learn one important truth, Mother Nature is fickle and don’t let her charm you.
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