Scared out of the fifth wheel

A sudden shift in the wind outside the thin wall surrounding our bed awakened me from a deep slumber at 12:45 a.m. We had known before going to bed that night that a storm was expected before dawn, with wind and hail likely. 

I glanced at my phone and saw a severe thunderstorm warning for our remote area about 30 miles west of Bismarck, North Dakota. We had found a beautiful boondocking spot on a little isthmus in Sweet Briar Lake and had the place all to ourselves. ​

Having learned to check radar for our particular area, I did that as well. The radar displayed a large, mean-looking red swath headed directly toward us. I woke up Bob and showed him what was coming our way. He jumped out of bed, and we tried to determine what we should do in our sleepy state. ​

Choices, choices

We decided to close the slideouts in our fifth wheel to center the gravity in our rig, giving the wind less surface to hit and preventing our slideout toppers from flapping and stretching.

Inexperienced at interpreting radar data, I panicked as we bolted around the trailer. I was ready to close the slideouts, forgetting that we needed to get items out of the way first. Thankfully, Bob remained level-headed. We quickly moved things to safe places so that we could close the slideouts. Rain had already started. 

With the slideouts closed, we had to hang out in the bedroom or bathroom unless we wanted to stand or sit in the hallway in front of the entry door. Nothing else was accessible. We returned to the bedroom and checked the radar again. Neither of us felt comfortable riding out the storm in the highest part of the rig. We wanted to be closer to the ground. 

Since we knew we wouldn’t be able to sleep, we agreed to make a mad dash to the truck. I guess you could say we were scared out of the fifth wheel. We quickly got dressed in case we had to go to a public place for safety, threw on our rain jackets and sandals, grabbed a towel, and ran for the truck. Rain came at us at an angle.

Shelter in the storm

I didn’t immediately feel safer in the truck. I wanted to be in the middle of the cab, away from the windows, but our large console prevented that. We removed our sopping rain jackets and used the towel to dry them and ourselves off as lightning flashed and rain pounded against the roof.

After a little while, my panic and fear subsided and I realized that we were pretty secure inside Gulliver. We were closer to the ground in the dually and felt less shaking of the vehicle from the wind. 

As we sat in the truck with the lights on, we took comfort in seeing a vehicle with its lights on across the lake, where fellow campers were residing. We weren’t alone. We kept an eye on them, and they likely watched us. If neither of us moved, the storm couldn’t be all that bad.

To pass time, we started making up our own version of the “Gilligan’s Island” theme song: Just sit right back and you’ll hear a tale, a tale of a fateful rig, bombarded by this thunderstorm out here in the sticks. The weather started getting rough, the giant rig was tossed, if not for the courage of the fearless crew, Tagalong would be lost. 

Refuge for the night

We kept checking the weather radar. After about half an hour, the worst of the storm had passed and the rain let up a bit. We pulled on our rain jackets and carefully stepped around puddles to return to the trailer. Because we had closed the last slideout in the pouring rain, we thought we’d better open it and clean up the wet mess it had caused. 

That done, we opened the bedroom slideout and climbed back into bed, leaving the other two slideouts closed for the night. Bob turned on the TV, and we watched part of “The Brady Bunch Movie” while we waited for the tail end of the storm to pass. 

After two hours of excitement, we were exhausted and fell fast asleep, grateful for our safety and each other. 

Looking back, we realized we experienced much stronger winds in Carlsbad, New Mexico, and were fine. And we’ve faced at least four tornado warnings. A few things contributed to our decision to ride out this storm in the truck: my lack of experience at understanding radar output, the darkness, and our unfamiliarity with North Dakota storms. We’re glad we hung out in Gulliver and might do so again in a similar situation.

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