Killer Cove - end

We raced for the safety of our tents. We watched the cheery flames of our camp fire through the vent flaps. We could hear the 'pingl as the Killers hurled themselves at the tent fabric. Thoughts of taking a leak were stowed. We were locked in.

The sun-baked sand pulsed heat up through the tent floor. We lay motionless, trying to minimize any sweat-inducing activity.

At 2am it started to blow. Our tent bent over until it looked like a taco shell. The the heavens opened and it began to rain. Everybody up. We rigged the protective fly.