Camping couple recount lightning strike

A Montreal couple struck by lightning while camping on a remote Quebec island are lucky to be alive, a leading climatologist says.

'There was a crack in my head, and the light, white blue orange, it was everywhere.'— Kim McNairn

Kim McNairn and Les Perreaux were on day four of a six-day kayaking trip on the Cabonga Reservoir in Quebec last week when a thunderstorm rolled through the area and lightning struck the tiny island where they'd pitched a tent for the night.

Perreaux — a newspaper reporter who has worked as a war correspondent — said his experience in Afghanistan pales in comparison to the adrenaline shot he got that night.
"I've had bombs fall not too far away, and I've had bullets whistle over my head, and this was scarier," he said.

The evening in La Vérendrye Provincial Park started calmly with a beautiful sunset, but the couple was awoken around 2 a.m. by thunder in the distance.

"Kim was counting, and I ducked outside, and I could smell electricity," said Perreaux, 37.
"Then it was like we were in the middle of a bomb, like a bomb went off right near our tent," said McNairn, 32, a CBC journalist in Montreal.

"Like there was a crack in my head, and the light, white blue orange, it was everywhere."
"It didn't matter if your eyes were open or closed; the light was in your head. It was that intense," Perreaux said.

McNairn said the light was followed by tingling that coursed through her body for several minutes before fading.

"I was feeling a tingling sensation through my arms and legs. I felt I'd been shocked and it wasn't painful, but it was a sensation that I have felt something," she said.

"Then it started to get scary," McNairn said. "I'm screaming and you can smell burned hair. You think, I'm so close, I'm smelling this, this is it, this is it."

The two lay in their tent, worrying about another strike, the condition of their hearts, and whether the campsite was going to burn.

They got up to check outside the tent and huddled inside until the sun came up.

That's when they found evidence of the lighting's path — the base of a nearby tree blown out by the impact, disturbed soil at the base of one of their tent poles, a burned-out furrow running from the tent pole to the forest, and scorch marks on the tent's frame.

The couple's tent was hit directly, or indirectly by a ground current, and they're lucky to have emerged unscathed because a lightning bolt can carry a charge of 100 million volts, said Dave Phillips, a senior climatologist with Environment Canada.

"My sense is that it could very well have hit the tree and came down," he told McNairn after she asked about her experience.

"The tent peg is so low, that's the other thing; I think it took the ground current. It can travel dozens, 50, 100 metres across that route."

"It was luck" more than anything else that they weren't injured, Phillips said. Every year about a dozen people are killed by lightning in Canada, and more than 70 are seriously injured.
McNairn and Perreaux's thin mattress probably provided some insulation, he said.
Perreaux and McNairn, nature enthusiasts who have gone on countless camping trips, plan more.

"I hope I don't change too much and get nervous about going outside," McNairn said. "But it sure is humbling to feel the force of nature like that, and I hope that's what I take away, is [respecting] it, and wow, man, we're lucky."

"I think it's easier to chalk it up to good luck," Perreaux said.

My new favorite item for summer camping

Not to analyze the situation too much, but one of the reasons I dig my camping hammock is the vaguely womb-like atmosphere it provides. The hammock I use—called the Hennessy Hammock—is a green cocoon that offers the most comfortable sleeping experience outside of my bedroom.

Hammocks are perfect for hot weather snoozing. Within a hammock’s soothing embrace, air circulates all around you, and a you feel just a bit like you’re floating above the ground. (This quality also leads to the primary drawback of a camping hammock, which I’ll get to in a minute.)
Maybe I’m easily impressed, but the Hennessy Hammock (pictured below) seems to be an engineering marvel. You enter the hammock through the bottom. As you lay down, the hole you entered seals up as a result the fabric tension. Admittedly, once inside, it takes work to get everything situated, and you may have to wiggle and twist and push and squirm to get everything just right. But once you do, it’s perfect.

Stretching out inside this hammock puts you in a slightly diagonal position that is not flat, but it’s much flatter than most hammocks allow. It’s flat enough for me to sleep on my side. Bug netting held aloft by a center string covers the top of the hammock. A removable fly kept me dry in several heavy downpours.

The downfall of camping hammocks is that they’re useful for only part of the year—at least in the Midwest. After a total of two weeks sleeping in the hammock, I discovered that below a certain temperature, I get too cold. Even if I’m wrapped in a down sleeping bag rated to 20 degrees, I get uncomfortably chilled if the temperature approaches 50 degrees. Sleeping on an insulated pad adds warmth, but it tends to slip out from underneath during the night.

Another drawback: Because it’s awkward getting situated once inside, the Hennessy Hammock—and camping hammocks in general—are probably not the best option for people who make frequent visits to nearby bushes during the night.

Also, I learned the hard way to spray outside of the hammock with bug repellant if I’m not using my sleeping bag while dozing in the hammock (I’ll spare you the photo gallery showcasing many dozens of mysterious bites on my legs that I acquired through the hammock’s nylon fabric).
Despite these shortcomings, the Hennessy Hammock is the bees' knees for summer camping. It comes in various models ranging in price from about $100 to $250. Outdoor gear nerds will salivate over the weight: the model I have weighs 2 pounds, 10 ounces. It usually takes me several minutes to set up.