A necropost perhaps.
Camping in the Welsh hills above Corwen. The crazy-quasi-tipi has weathered everything that the hills can throw at it over fifteen years. It’s been snowed on, hailed on and frozen stiff. It’s been modified and adapted so that only the canvas is original. One room, one skin, no sewn-in groundsheet and I love it.
Trying to add rest of story via edit.
Failing!
An hour later and still failing. Keep getting “Oops. Etc”
Last February I pitched late, in the rain. It was a toss up: pitch or just use the bivvie sack. I pitched. It wasn’t blowing very hard and I just used the nine inch nail pegs that I always use. Couldn’t be bothered with guylines and augers. The soil was shallow and the pegs at a very shallow angle.
Sometime in the night something brushed my cheek, there was a thud and I woke up to see some stars and the silhouette of the other side of the valley. It was raining. The external bi-pole had lifted the tent clean off me.
No worries. My tech was in a dry sack, everything else in a rucksack. I just pinned down the canvas so that it stayed in Wales and slept in the car.
But
When I get it repaired I’ll use the bloody augers!!!!! (It was sold with those stupid soft wire so called pegs)
A friend of mine is an artist who knows my tent and my beard.
