Low Country

The southeastern coastal states are often referred to as low country. That probably is because the land is barely higher than sea level. There are benefits and drawbacks to these areas.

As someone who is uncomfortable in high places, this is the perfect place for me to hike.  Far too many times in the past I have doggedly pursued my dear hubby as he was climbing ever higher along some mountain ridge. Finally, I can keep up with his strides without holding my breath and looking anywhere but down. Granted, the aerobic effort is practically nil, but at least I am breathing.

So for more strenuous exercise, we can turn to bicycling. Here, too, are the benefits of a flat land. What’s not to like?

Well, for one thing, the weather.

Most of the time, the weather around here consists of warm ocean breezes and sunny skies. It’s one reason why we come down this way.  But all those picturesque houses on stilts along the coast are built that way because of the threat of floods and hurricanes. We’ve luckily managed to avoid those issues. I’m not sure what we would do if presented with such an emergency. Hopefully we would realize what the wheels on our home are for, and skedaddle.

But we did experience an unexpected weather event.

We had settled in for the night at our campground along the coast of Alabama. At 1:30am, my I-phone, plugged in beside me, started emitting long tones. This wasn’t a text, nor a phone call, and sure as shooting wasn’t a Facebook  message – the only other sounds I had heard from this electronic device before. One eye open, I peeked at the screen to see the words,  “ Tornado warning in the area. Take cover immediately.” Really?  My I-phone did that, too? Who knew?

There was indeed lots of lightning going on outside our little tin can, but the winds weren’t strong so we weren’t terribly concerned. I did get up, though, and noticed not only several trucks and other vehicles parked at the bathhouse in front of us, but more coming as well. It looked like there was a convention being held across the street. Being a nosy person, I threw on a robe and crossed over to where a dozen people were milling about.  I sidled up to one lady with a question, and was told that this was also a storm shelter.  

Now, this building is short and stout, and made with big blocks and beams, but I wasn’t sure that it would stand up to a direct hit from a tornado.

Rules being rules, however, I did go back to the trailer and suggested to hubby that we should join the crowd. He looked at me and asked if I was going “like that”. Oh, I’m supposed to get dressed for a middle of the night emergency? I must have missed that particular etiquette lesson.  I compromised by taking clothes over to the shelter with me and changing in a stall.

Once the rains started, most of the crowd outside moved inside. There are always some die-hards that want to see it coming.

I found the people inside were much more interesting, however. There was a young couple with a toddler, half asleep in his mom’s arms, with the father trying unsuccessfully to put a bicycle helmet on him. There were two teenage girls with their cell phones in front of their faces, and another young lady with a smart phone giving us updates on how many tornadoes had touched down. The two couples with dogs were on opposite sides of the shelter, and in the middle was a lady with a parrot on her shoulder. There were at least 24 people inside, and no one seemed panicked or upset, and neither were we.

After 45 minutes, the lady with the smart phone declared an “all clear”, and we dispersed. Of course, hubby and I were far from sleepy and spent the next hour sitting up with coffee and hot chocolate, hubby playing with the weather radio that should have given us a pre-warning but didn’t. He got it working and we went to bed. To have the weather radio go off twice more before morning,  merely to warn of high winds.  The I-phone remained mercifully silent.

Such was our high adventure in the low country.

W