A gypsy hobbit

And an epic storm in Utah

Following our long day fishing in a hailstorm on the Green River, we sat in camp chairs overlooking the Flaming Gorge and watched sunset stain the sky in lingering reds, golds, and yellows that faded over the multi-hued cliffs.

Everything seemed clear as we went to bed—but we were woken mere hours later by a sudden zap of lightning and boom of thunder directly overhead.

Koa and I woke in terror. Both of us moved over to cling to Mike (Koa by attempting to sit on his head) as the fragile shell of the trailer lit eerily, and then vibrated with drum rolls of thunder. 

Then, a downpour of biblical proportions drowned out every other sound.

I felt fairly safe in the trailer, parked as it was on four rubber tires—but that afternoon, a couple around our age had arrived late in the day and set up a small dome tent in the site next to us. Right now, those two middle-aged folks were huddled in a flimsy shelter, possibly made of metal struts that might attract the lightning. I was prepared to offer …