Bitch Wind Beach

It’s early still, but dark and uncomfortable to be hanging around outside. I just want to snuggle into my cozy sleeping bag and relax into sleep. However, Bitch Wind isn’t cooperating, she wants in with me. She’s whipping round, pushing one tent side, then the other, tent poles are bending to her force. Her attacks are so quick, erratic and demanding, she seems certain to succeed. But my little tent is strong and flexible, and is able to withstand her efforts. It’s me who can’t withstand her howling, her ferocity is deafening. There’ll be no sleep tonight as she swirls and screeches, determined to keep me from slumber, if not slash my tent to pieces.Enter Edgar and Maria, our ever watchful guides, gently suggesting a quieter night could be had around the corner. We must be quick as the rising tide will soon cut off access to get around the rock outcrop. With headlamps to show the way, we move 2 tents at a time, sandwiched one atop the other, and join the other, more savvy, paddlers who found the quieter quarters earlier, in daylight.Bitch Wind did spend the night, but she settled into gusts of rampage, rather than the continuous assault with moments of calm we started the evening with.