Tarp Wars

It’s raining on us.

And we’re sitting in the middle of the northern Alberta woods.

Not a good combination.

Usually.

But many, many years ago, my Husby and his good friend, Gord, instituted a tradition which has saved more than one camping trip.

Tarp wars.

The rules are simple.

Whoever can put up the tightest, smoothest, most rain-defying/re-directing tarp, wins.

And garners the most support. (ie: huddlers.)

Let’s face it. When the elements have decided to make life miserable, the place you want to be is under the tightest, smoothest, most rain-defying . . .  you get the picture.

The two men started out small. Eight feet by ten feet.

But that wasn’t big enough; didn’t accommodate the mass of humanity that required shelter.

So they went bigger.

Ten by twelve.

Then fifteen by twenty.

Twenty by twenty.

And finally, twenty by thirty.

And that’s where they stopped.

Because finding a space between trees in the Canadian North Woods that is larger than thirty feet, is very nearly impossible.

This year’s winner?

My Husby.

Mainly because our friends haven’t shown up yet.

But we declaring it a victory.

It’s not raining at this exact moment, but it will and when it does, we will all thank him.

P.S. I have pictures, but my current circumstances (ie. a slow trickle of wireless power here in the middle of nowhere) prevent me using them. Sigh.