This past weekend was one for the history books as I had the most terrifying experience in my life. No, I did not get word that Mother was coming over to inspect my baseboards with her white glove treatment, (see “Baseboards Matter” at communitynewslinesville.com in the Rants archives), nor did it have a thing to do with my getting blamed for losing some important artifact belonging to Perpetual.

It was a very frightening camping experience, which did not involve wildlife stalking me in the night, that had me so unhinged.

The calamity that led to my curling up on a cot, clutching a flashlight, whilst simultaneously clinging to my weather radio and begging for mercy, involved the wrath of Mother Nature herself.

I haven't a clue as to what got into that woman but she, MN for short, decided to take out her PMS on poor little End of the Road Campground in stunning, and welcoming, Linesville PA.

Because by the time you get this paper about a week and a half will have passed since the “incident,” I should jog your memory about the horrendous storms that made their way across the region around 2 in the morn on August 19, 2011.

So, here is the reminder: we had some hideous storms during the late night and super early morning hours of August 18 and 19. How was that for originality?

Moving along, as this is eventually going to evolve from a story of a woman, namely me, who is petrified of storms—even in the comfort of a true shelter, to a tale of excellent service received at the state park in question.

(This column is also going to be way longer than usual so get more coffee, another gin & tonic or whatever it takes to get you through.)

You all know that I live for super long intros so simply get on with your reading and pronto. (I can now visualize papers being tossed over the left shoulders of many a reader due to my snarly remarks and demands—or is that right shoulders I'm seeing?)

OK, I AM getting on with it. Around two in the morning, give or take, thunder growled as lighting illuminated and jabbed at the skies, like radiant celestial swords.

A tent, from which I experienced this ordeal, is fine and dandy during regular rain showers—even downpours, especially when it is tarped, (I'm not sure if that's a word), out to the max. As many readers know, this is my modus operandi as I refuse to become saturated inside of a tent.

However, utilizing a huge tarp, in such a manner, requires said tent to be placed betwixt two trees, (sometimes only one), in order to hold the rope that keeps the tarp up and so on and so forth and she told two friends and all that jazz.

Well, anyone with a lick of sense realizes that being under, or near, trees during hazardous thunder-boomers is a huge no-no.

Several times, I attempted a dash for the van but, I'd get ready and then conditions would calm down. Plus, my computer was indicating that we had almost passed the point of danger.

Then, it happened. I'm sure that some of you out there are familiar with a song by an artist named Carole King, in which the lyrics go like this: “I feel the earth move under my feet, I feel the sky tum-bi-lin down...”

That was exactly what happened as lightning struck so close to my shelter that I literally could feel the ground move beneath my already trembling feet.

At that very instant, my electric blew out as well. (I've been spoiling myself with electrical sites because I take my small computer along. See, the boss is a known whip cracker, or is that whippersnapper? Anyhow, I work on reports, drum up some ad sales and compose my column, oft from the comfort of a hammock, as I'm doing right now.)

Since I always forget that I actually own a portable electrical device, (cannot be used with anything with a heating element though, like a coffee maker, heater or blow dryer), and it was in my van, I did the best I could with the hand dealt.

I had been smart enough to unplug the computer prior to the storm and this small device has a terrific battery life. Also, my little internet catcher, as I like to call it, was still in action. So, I at least was able to track the storm on a weather station online.

OK, morning rolled around, I mean real morning, and I let the chick in the office, (nicest little gal named Ann), know of my electrical situation.

See, to top it all off, I couldn't use my primitive coffee making implement because I was having trouble with the burner portion that rests upon the propane. Lisa, minus morning coffee, is comparable to MN's earlier temper tantrum.

I kid you not that within 30 minutes, if that, a crew of three delightful chaps named Dennis, Bob and Dan, had my electric up and running faster than, well, something really quick.

Now, I have to take my hat off to these guys, (and expose my wonderful camp head), as they, according to Ann and witnessed by me on several occasions, really keep that park running.

They are with the DCNR, (Department of Conservation and Natural Resources), which sometimes gets a bad rap, so I thought I should praise them wildly for the hard, oft back-breaking work they do. Not to mention, I'm certain that many of the employees have to deal with feisty and demanding campers from time to time, which can be a real “PITA,” (pain in the you-know-what).

Moving beyond the rave portion of this saga, I must fill you in on the rest of the story, as it is actually news worthy, in my opinion, and this is my opinion column, so there.

Later on that day, I was, more than likely, on this computer really digging up business for the paper and concentrating so much on work that I forgot I was camping, when I heard some chatter near a huge tree.

Well, it turns out that the lightning that struck had hit a gigantic tree, located at the entrance of a campsite literally, not figuratively, no further than 70 feet from my own. This is why the I truly did feel the earth move and all that other Carole King song jazz. I've never, in my days, been so close to the wrath of MN and I do not recommend it. (A hint to my goofy brother who, if you recall, wanted a rain storm to hit while camping to “enhance the experience.”)

Mind you, I have two favorite sites over at the End of the Road. When I entered, Ann was not in the little booth, as is sometimes the case during weekdays.

Therefore, I perused the list of vacancies that are posted for individuals who take flight, like the Concord, at a last second's notice, and aim in the direction of the nearest camping venue. Does that sound like anyone we know?

Both of my cherished sites were up for grabs, but by the time I meandered up the drive, the one had just been secured by another camping crew. Well, guess which one that was?? Come on, guess....Indeed, it was the one that housed the tree that was clobbered.

It was bad enough that I was within that range but can you imagine? Well, the beat goes on as Saturday night, or was it Sunday—who can keep track when one is so preoccupied with work all the time....Anyhow, I knew, due to having my handy computer, that more storms were expected and when.

So, that time I decided to set up a shelter in the van, which always houses a made up cot with bedding at all times throughout the year. That way, I can nap along the way to Walmart if I get groggy but, I digress.

I ran some electrical cords in, blah, blah, blah, and was ready to leap, like a frog, from tent to van if need be.

I had just finished the prep work when the wind began to really pick up. All at once, the neighbors, who had camped under the tree that was struck, began to scream.

I yelled over and asked what was happening and they said: “The tree is going to come down!” Again, I leapfrogged it over to their place and began to help them pitch this, that and the other into vehicles, their pop up trailer and the like. All of this unfolded at the speed of lightning, pun intended, and was quite haphazard, due to the emergency nature of it all.

Trailers in the vicinity pulled out right and left as park rangers began to converge. One shone his light, that could direct incoming air traffic, on the tree top, or what was the top at one time. Part of it had indeed toppled but it caught itself, so to speak, and saved the day.

The neighbors escaped, but not before I seized my tape recorder, (see, always on the job), and got their names and number in case I discovered some left behind gem in the morning.

Also, now this is the best part, they gave me their firewood! This might not sound too thrilling but, I'm obsessed with TWO main things when I camp. One is having enough firewood for a month and the other is to bring enough ice for a skating party.

You've never seen a chick move so quickly to retrieve a tarp on which to place wood in your life. Their 3 little daughters helped me out and then, they were off.

When I called this family the next day to proclaim that clothes line was the only thing left behind, the woman knew immediately that it was me. I said hello and she asked if it was Lisa. I swear, I cannot get away with anything due to this distinctive voice of mine—digression rears its ugly head again.

Do you know that she, god love her, tried to reach me and even called over to Jamestown in the hopes of finding someone to get a message to me?

Well, she did and she happened to get Ann, who had been temporarily moved to the Jimtown facility for the day. This lady, who had been thrown from bed due to lightning striking 7 feet from her camper and who then had to bail in the night, wanted to make sure that I was thanked for the help.

Now, stuff like that is heartwarming to the max and at least adds some kind of purpose to this column other than telling a story about storm survival.

Ann later told me that the family was super grateful for my help.

By the next morning, it was as if someone had passed gas in a movie theater, as there was hardly a soul in that entire campground. Of course, I stayed an extra night, making it home by Monday, which brings me to this....

On Monday morning at 9—you know how I feel about mornings, I was awakened by super loud machinery and guess what? They removed that tree, which was so very sad because it had to have been there for fifty years, if not longer.

This is also another example of the excellent service provided by the DCNR people. Even though it was a devastating loss, the old pine had to go as it was dying and the safety of the campers had to be taken into consideration.

So, there you have it. I actually was able to rave about something whilst telling a tale of terror in the night.

Those guys who work over there are terrific and that's all there is to it. Well, I have to confess that two of them admitted to being occasional readers of this column so, need I say more?

At any rate, several morals of the story might be found within but, it's up to you to dig for them. I'm too exhausted. Meanwhile, I took pictures galore, made a little collage and am turning it in along with this column. Hopefully, you shall see it—maybe on the front page. OK, I can dream can't I?

THE END.