We first noticed what looked to be trouble brewing in the far hinterlands of the Bering Sea while watching the weather forecast on KTUU news.

The center of attraction was an ominous brute of a storm circling the area and threatening to roar south like a highly cheesed off sow protecting her cubs.

As the week progressed, the disturbance started acting like some psycho sporting a hangover the size of Siberia while taking its time to decide where to throw a mean temper tantrum.

It’s target turned out to be a large strip of the western hide of Alaska.

Its extensive focus was a major bummer because we had already spent the “summer” trying to keep moss from sprouting on our sodden physiques generated by the relentless curtains of rain that we had slogged through for a water trough of weeks.

As the weather warnings grew more resounding, we took more notice of the predicted winds accompanying the anticipated deluges and our “spidey senses” started to kick into high gear.

Then came the promised increasing winds along with heavier rainfalls drenching the darkened landscape until the earth squished instead of quietly acquiescing to the pressure of my boots.

Things became even grimmer as the weather system surfed across western Alaska and stretched down to whip on the Aleutians goading crests of air stream pressures to spawn diverse storm fronts that seemed to be confused as to their final destinations.

When predicted gusts for the Kachemak Bay area hit a possible 75 kts with sustained winds of 30 to 40, things kicked into high gear at our cabin by the sea.

Since the high probability of a power outage ranked the same as our lunatic pooch’s attempts to scale the log walls when the rains hit the mental roofing or high soprano yelps at sudden wind blasts, we prepped for blackouts inclusive of prescribed doggie chill pills.

All headlamps were charged or configured with new batteries, emergency radios readied, freshwater stored for general use and the wood stove prepped as backup to the Toyo.

Vehicles were repositioned for minimal exposure to flying debris, configured with communication chargers and ‘Get Outta Dodge’ gear bags we use for Tsunami and earthquake threats.

After a few more tweaks, we felt ready for the malevolent malcontent stalking our playground and settled in as the main front approached to attack under the cover of night.

The body of the beast proceeded to throw an epic commode hugging display of cloud hurling wickedness and redefined the term, “breaking wind.”

At first, its assaults came in bursts of fluctuating winds tossing wakes of rain against the cabin but nothing we hadn’t dealt with before.

Then it went all Darth Vader.

Brawny gusts slammed the cabin rattling the roof’s eves like a demented percussionist’s drum solo. Sporadic deluges slammed us so hard that the area’s visibility diminished to where we couldn’t tell where the bay started and the land commenced.

The night’s drama concluded in a series of diminishing winds beginning with werewolf howls dying into whispering sighs as the cloud covered skies finally allowed dawn’s light to filter across the landscape.

Although it was a rough night for sleeping, especially with a dog convinced there were demons at our door even with her cur calmers on board, we lucked out. The power stayed on, we still had a roof, no windows imploded, and the outbuildings remained intact.

The beast with a psycho attitude had moved on after putting us through what turned out to be a readiness drill.

We quickly realized what needed to be tweaked in our response plans and those issues will be addressed before winter sets in.

Forty-one years in Homer and nary a boring moment.

What the hell was that? Going to check the Richter Scale on that one.

Uh…, where’s the dog?

Nick can be reached at ncvarney@gmail.com if he isn’t out with Turk trying to help Willie chase down his chickens that went airborne during the tempest. Some of which he claims were his in the first place.