Posts Tagged ‘flash flooding’
Flash Flooded
Wednesday, we reached Marthasville, MO, where we had reservations to tent in their ballpark after a 55-mile pedal on our fourth day of extreme heat and humidity. Their tractor for grooming the infield had me missing home a little bit.
Before we retired to our tents for the night, we were aware of an approaching thunderstorm. Having tented through many storms, we weren’t overly concerned. We had been told we could set up our tents anywhere except within the field, so we opted for just outside the fence. I was looking forward to some moisture to settle the dust and maybe calm the triple-digit heat indexes.
Despite my overly full stomach from too much pizza for dinner and the sauna-like conditions keeping me sweating in my tent, I was able to doze into a short slumber before the storm fireworks started. It was a doozy. The frenetic flashes of lightning and heavy booms of thunder were the side dishes to the main course of incredibly heavy rain.
Bob was the first one to bail out of his leaking tent to stand under the solid roof of the pavilion, followed soon after by Rich and Steve as they became aware of the rising floodwaters. I could hear some commotion of their rearranging of picnic tables and noticed their lights occasionally hitting my tent, but I didn’t notice any drips and was dry on my sleeping pad, so I planned to fall back to sleep and ride out the storm.
When I saw my phone light up with a text from Bob asking if I was dry, I reached out to feel the floor before replying. The floor of my tent felt like a waterbed. With barely contained panic, I grabbed my sleeping pad and neck pillow and wrestled my way out of the two zippers of the tent door and the rainfly to join the others under the pavilion roof.
They kindly offered to join me in the few steps to the tent during the downpour to collect the rest of my belongings. Moments later, the experience was repeated for Curt. Our tents were sitting in about 6 inches of water in a new lake that covered much of the outfield.
The rest of the night was spent trying to get a modicum of sleep on top of picnic benches. We were all a good measure short of a proper night’s slumber. Morning allowed us to get a better view of the previous night’s drama. Although the water had receded significantly, the lake on our tent side of the outfield fence hadn’t completely disappeared.
With more heavy rain on the way and the likelihood of the Katy Trail being littered with branches and washouts, we opted to pack up our wet gear and end our trip a day early.
After a long shower last night, I slept in my own bed again and thoroughly enjoyed being cool and dry all night long.
.
.
Interesting Sights
I wasn’t quite expecting to see this after the downpours we were receiving much of yesterday, but I was curious about how much water was flowing through our main drainage ditch. As of last night, we had 4.5 inches in our rain gauge.
I didn’t get very close to the little gully I carved to drain water from the field into the big ditch because the entire path was under water. Can you say, “flash flooding?”
Earlier in the afternoon, I saw that the rushing water from overnight rains had pushed away a cinder block from the riprap at the end of the big culvert by the road. I guess I’m gonna need bigger blocks.
Willow trees like a lot of water, so all this rain is giving the dying tree in the paddock a boost. There’s enough new growth sprouting out of what remains of that tree to provide a little shade for the horses again.
Maybe I didn’t need to go to all the trouble of installing that shade sail for them after all.
Speaking of willow trees, I saved a piece from the large section that came down recently because it looked like it had potential for carving a heart shape. I set it in the shop garage to dry out next to several other hunks of wood saved for future projects.
With no sun, no soil, and no water, that slice of tree still has enough residual energy to send out new sprouts of leaves.
It has me thinking I should have planted a willow tree in the middle of the labyrinth. At least a willow puts up a fight even when all the odds are against it.
A giant weeping willow tree would be an interesting sight in the middle of that garden in a handful of decades.
.
.
Relative Something 