But what usually can wake you up in the middle of the night? From my experience in the woods, and many people would agree, it is not strange waking up in the middle of the night because the wilderness simply offers too many wonders, and surprises too. Most commonly, people wake up for necessities. And just to name a few: feeling hungry again, going to the “toilet”, or loud thunder nearby; and the most undesirable, unexpected visitors knocking on your tent (ok, maybe this is not common). But there is one I remember remarkably well from a trip I did with my friends in 2008. The sounds I heard were unique and new to me - I was awakening by rhythmic sounds with intervals and repetitions, a gift of nature?

Before the trip has begun, and after numerous emails and schedule checking and rescheduling and then rechecking, me and three of my friends had finally reached consensus. The democratic result was doing it in the first weekend of October, a four days canoe camping trip in Killarney Provincial Park. Killarney is one of our favourites, so was the time chosen. I couldn’t be happier, camping and sightseeing fall colours altogether. It is like being rich and finding love at the same time. Ok, let me say it in a more realistic way: simply imagine facing a grand vista of colourful trees, a clear lake underneath it and a blue sky above it, like a painting – I used to contemplate within myself; or imagine being in the middle of the sweet and fresh smelling maple trees, and you, casted naturally within the painting. Is it not too wonderful? Our expectations before this trip were certainly too promising. I couldn’t wait to get started.

So, on the much anticipated day, after a four hours drive from Toronto to Killarney, we put in at Bell Lake. Our first half loop was a cruise through Three Mile Lake to Balsam Lake; camped; next day, we paddled to David Lake where we camped for two nights. The second day we did a hike to Silver Peak from David Lake. Our returning half included the two portages between David Lake and Bell Lake. It was the second night when the strange sounds occurred.

Recalling back then, I think when I woke up, my eyes still closed and half dreaming. “Wake up! Unknown noises nearby, loud and consistent; might be a bear approaching. Wake up now!” My eyes opened wide at once, my body stiffened. Then my ears made the first defensive move, capturing the waves of sound from outside my tent. The rush of calling words from my dream alerted me successfully and now I was listening attentively. Despite having previous camping experiences in the wilderness, I still find myself over-sensitive to noises at night, suspecting uninvited visitors to the camp.

I remember the strange sounds were pretty clear and close to my tent. Damn it. Go away, not my tent. There is no food in mine, maybe my neighbour’s. I was pleading and cursing at them. Sensing no changes came from outside, I willed myself and focused on listening. It is raining outside and winds blowing, but I could hear the noises quite clearly. It has two different tones, sort of. Fortunately, they didn’t sound like a bear walking or sifting through our food in the barrel. Good. I regained some confidence in that instant.

I sat up and trying to trace back further. By the time we went to bed, or to the tent, not too long after, it started raining and increasing to a downpour. At times, thunder could be heard and lightning nearby I sensed too. The rain subsided by the time I heard the noises, I guess it was around 1am. But they sounded peculiar, stood out from the sounds of rain and wind in the background. Now, I remember it better: first, a rapid sequence of water dropping sounds for about a minute or more: dut-dut-dut…; then the sounds became a slow slow motioned splassssssh as if pouring down a pot filled with water onto the ground. I was intrigued by this interpretation. “A can filling up with water then releasing its contents by itself.” It pretty much sounded like it. But that is impossible. I am in the middle of the wilderness. Is someone playing some kind of joke on me? No way, what time is it, plus it is raining, nonsense. I was throwing thoughts around. My eyes turned towards my rain jacket, lying readily beside me. “No, no. Not this time partner. It is raining and windy outside. Don’t want to get wet.” The idea of leaving the tent triggered an immediate rejection. Oh wait! My feet felt something horribly wrong: cold and wet.

Like surprises never come in odds, they come in pairs. Immediately, I rummaged the pocket on my right, my hand located the flashlight, grabbed it and turned it on. I directed the lights on the narrow end of my tent where my feet were. The confirmation of leakage gave another blow of disappointment; my hands on my head, grabbing my hair in irritating state and disapproval, bad timing. A wet tent or wet sleeping bag or whatever related to wet means problem for sleeping. And I need to sleep. Good Lord, at least I know this much, I protested. Using my flashlight, I found both inner sides of the tent have leaks; a couple of wet spots on the bottom end of my sleeping bag, obviously drops from the ceiling above. I took a breath, relieved. The leaks didn’t look too disastrous. Without wasting another second to pass, I grabbed whatever could be used to wipe out the water on the sides, the ceiling, wherever it was wet. The signs of “wet” appeared extremely unwelcome in that moment.

Outside was still raining and the leak continued. I put my spared clothes on the sides of the tent hoping it will minimize the leaks from rain bouncing in. One more leak point, the ceiling above my feet, how can it be stopped? I inquired with urgency. It is the first time I found my tent leaking. I didn’t exactly know the leaking spots on the ceiling and did not have any tape with me. So, this is it? Staying up all night or sleeping without covering my feet? Can it be done? Or sleep like a Buddha, sitting up and legs crossed? Alright, I can’t. My hand on my head trying very hard to think. What about the others? Am I the only one suffering in this misfortune? I began to feel both helpless and ashamed. The moment my left hand landed on my rain jacket, I looked and a hint clicked in my head. Immediately, I grabbed the rain jacket, spread it flat to cover the sleeping bag’s bottom end. The rain jacket was wide enough to cover the leaking part. I threw another long breath, feeling a bit depleted and relieved at the same time. It seemed the leakage was covered so far. Did the leakage or the strange sounds wake me up? I was confused.

The strange sounds were still remarkably present. But it didn’t worry me much now because I felt sure it wasn’t a bear out there. It was just an annoying unknown object catching water from the rain and making noises. I lay down and buried my head with my sleeping bag, resigned; praying for the strange sounds will stop soon and the leakage is well controlled. “God, please don’t flood my tent.” I closed my eyes and tried hard to sleep again.

The strange sounds stayed on diligently for as long as the rain was on. But I must admit that it wasn’t nearly as bad as getting your tent wet. Did we unearth the “little devil”? Yes, we did that. No, it wasn’t a joke. In the morning, with the aid of more brains and hands, we discovered the strange sounds were caused by rains filling up on the side of the tarp, creating that rhythm of filling and releasing water onto the ground. We resolved it as a gift of nature and shrugged it off with laughter: let’s enjoy everything created by our mother nature!