Prior to the 24 mile hike into Port Clinton there is a very unique shelter called the 501. The shelter is fully enclosed (less bugs), has a solar shower and a water faucet. A caretaker lives next door and you can order pizza and have it delivered (it was great!).
So why would I tent given the quality of the shelter (and there was only German Shepherd, Fire Fly, Blue Mtn Edward)? Because my tent was wet from the storms the previous nights, the evening was beautiful and the tent sites flat and soft (a rarity).
As I settled in for the evening I kept hearing a deep rumbling sound off to the west and assumed it was from trucks on I-81 crossing a bridge (501 shelter is very close). Not so...the rumble was from a very fast and powerful storm suddenly raging through the area. The sky went from blue to black to a deep orange as the still air changed to a raging wind blowing the sidewall of my tent halfway in. The rain came in massive sheets and the hail pelted my tent. Water was streaming off my tent like a river as I tried to hold it in place hoping it wouldn't collapse. As I watched the trees around me bending 45 degrees it occurred to me that I should not be here and I should make a run for the shelter; however, I concluded that we'd all die from a tornado whether in a shelter or tent and I did not want to lose my tent.
The storm was the most intense I have been in but it was short lived...and my tent did pretty darn well;however a stream of water found one of my boots, making the 24 mile hike the next day all the more miserable.
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