The worst storm in years visited my town of Colchester Sunday through to Monday (today.) Officials nicknamed this storm “Jude” after the patron saint of lost causes; I decided I liked this cause of connecting with raw nature, and went camping in it. Rather than be a passive spectator the individual in my opinion should become involved actively with nature through experiential doing.
Sunday night I arrived in my wood, the tent was already up, so I dived into the tent out of the rain. I watched from the safety of my tent at the rain unleashed upon the wood, it was not long before I was asleep, waking later in the night as floods of rain crashed against my tent. There is something wild and magical being in a tent separated by tiny fabric from raw nature.
By 6am Monday the rain had vanished. Then came the wind, that treated my tent with me inside like a plaything. Anxiety crept over me of the trees close by falling on me. I fell asleep again, awoke at 7am, noted a tree bending ominously over my tent, a motivating incentive to get me out of bed on a Monday morning. I secured my tent, shaved and then made my way from the wild back to civilisation.
I wished for my camera, the dark-grey sky against the blazing sun. Jude swept in with gusto. The clouds raced, the wind whistled. In the embrace of the wind I struggled to proceed through the fields. I played chicken, practicing attentiveness to my dangerous surroundings, as I raced between fallen branches, with bits of tree crashing around me. Through a blizzard of leaves and twigs I entered into civilisation.
Jude had brought down walls, bits of roof, even a street light hung dangerously. Across my path was an uprooted large tree. Sadly, by the end of today many trees will have died.