Three days of solid tropical downpours made our experience of Volcano less than sizzling, and tested our Endurance. The Hale Ohia guestbook was the recipient of Sandy’s literary wrath…
I awoke to the sound of rain pounding on the skylight. The pillows were damp. The blankets, too, were sparkling with little beads of moisture.
Essential supplies had been placed in the refrigerator, but the pressure of the constantly falling rain was threatening to rot and cave in the roof above the kitchenette. I thought of moving the refrigerator closer to the fireplace, but it was too late. The thoughts that came to me then were not particularly cheerful.
I pulled on my heavy, wet underwear and water-logged jeans, then slowly squished my way to the door. I knew that I would have to reach the car by nightfall, but it was a full 80 feet away.
Somehow, I managed to pull open the door of the cottage, but three times I was driven back by the cold, cruel rain. On my fourth attempt to reach the edge of the parking lot, my pink, retractable umbrella was violently blown backwards. The next squall sent it flying off toward the hot tub.
My strength was nearly exhausted and it was hard work crawling the remaining ten feet. At last my slippery hands encountered one of the tires of our car. From there I was able to feel my way up to the driver’s side door, and wrenched it open. Inside, my husband Snort was soaked, but miraculously, he was still alive. We drank guava juice and ate Tammy’s banana bread.
We stayed in the car the rest of the day, enduring as best we could discomforts that amounted to pain.