It was no ordinary storm we're talking about. The sky seriously fell on us. The thunder was covering the music, the dust-field instantly turned into a mud-pool. The wind was blowing some of the tents flat. We walked our way back to the couchsurfing camp.

The guys there had stretched a huge tarp so as to shade the sun rays and it was in a patch of forest so the muffled wind didn't take it away. It saved a lot of people's ass this night. Paul's tent had completely collapsed, and it wasn't the only one. Festival-folks like tents cheap. Everyone was gathered under it, watching the debacle. Paul was there too. Into the furry, I could hear the next band, Korpiklaani, starting to play. The very band I had come to see. But the storm was really scarry and I was exhausted of the day. I watched the lights of the show under the lightning from the distance with a ball in my stomach.

Paul, Aino and I slept on the ground, under the tarp, huddled together so as to keep warm as the temperature had dropped a good 10 degrees. It rained all through the night.

God decided that a torrent of rainwater should not wash away the campsite and I'm greatful. I saw the next morning that not everyone had been so lucky.

The next morning, I gathered my wet stuff together and left, shivering and sore. I made a run to the food selling area in hopes that I would find some leftover food in the trash but they were already packing. The trash themselves were repelling to look at. I decided my festival time was up and that I still had a long road to Odessa.

I took my wet self back on the road.