Camping In Ireland: Part 1

Camping In Ireland: Part 1 A tale of firsts, set on a rainy camping trip, among young friends. Based on a post by Josh stone , in 2 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at My First Time . The Night Storm Surrounded by flimsy, billowing nylon, the wind howled outside. The fly sheet occasionally touching the inner when the buffeting storm blew strongly enough, and patches of damp were beginning to appear where the outside was attempting to breach the inner. The light was fading outside and somehow the dankness of the evening was everywhere within. He stayed at the campsite while the others had headed for the village in the coast of Southwest Ireland. Local lads had told of a party, beer, and opportunity . Inside her large nylon tent with him, she also lay, the two rather unknown to one another. Her head at the far end, and his head near the zips, forming the door. Their two sleeping bags were zipped up, and they were each warm and safe, escaping as they had into the nearest dry tent they found. Her tent. The severe weather overtook the two after the rest of the group had departed for a party, in the village. There was a silent tension, which neither of them could quite understand. Cordial talk of home, of family and of newly forming college friendships. The trip was planned by just a few of those participating. But by word of mouth the invites expanded the event, until it became a motley crew of friends-of-friends-of-friends. She was invited by her friend next door, who was a cousin of the guy who invited a guy who invited him. Even the travel was done in a loose caravan. He drove his own SUV. She caught a ride in her neighbor s Honda Civic. Conversation flowed easily enough; but their bodies were somehow tense, his legs were restless. To break the growing silence, he shuffled out of his sleeping bag and explained that he was going to fetch water and his head torch . A flashlight gadget mounted to an elastic headband, for hands-free illumination. Was there anything she wanted? His tent was damaged when a pole snapped. They quickly grabbed his essentials and took refuge in her family tent which she had all to herself. The others would be away for hours yet. Who knows if the other tents will survive this barrage? Arriving back, he carefully unzipped her tent door, He removed his boots and waterproofs, just inside; so as to keep them as dry as possible, and to prevent any remaining dry contents of the tent from getting wet. A ritual he had become so used to these last few days, of the perpetual Irish rain. As he entered the main section of the tent, a shiver ran down his spine as a drip fell down his face from his soaking wet hair. Thank you for staying back at camp. I m not sure how I d feel about this weather, if I was alone on this strange coastline. She said. I wonder how the group is doing, and how bad the weather is where they are? He wondered aloud. Maybe they got in a jealous fight with some local guys, and are all