It was close to what would likely have been more of a spectacle than a disaster.

It was also the kind of thing that just seems to happen to me thanks to this invisible target that I think surrounds me when it comes to weird things.

There I was, overlooking the venues for javelin, shot put and discus that spread out on a terrace below the Polson High School outdoor athletic facilities. In the background were the always majestic Montana mountains, including, I think, the northern reaches of the Mission Mountains, my favorite piles of rock on the planet.

Most of Flathead Lake was somewhat shrouded in low hanging clouds that had the look of approaching rain, most likely snow.

And the wind was a-howling.

Undaunted, I put my camera up to my eye, did my usual one-eyed squint and snapped off several pictures of a javelin thrower from St. Regis, under the well-bundled watch of his coach, Jesse Allan, as let loose of the spear. It wobbled kind of weirdly and seemed to run into a wall of air as it struggled to gain height.

An okay throw, but that was not the weird thing.

I am a larger than average human being. Never have been blown over by a gust of wind, although in Cut Bank a few years ago I felt like I was on roller blades as the gale that swept across a parking lot pushed me long a path I was not intending to take.

But this Polson “nor-easter” was quick and strong.

I was off balance, teetering on one foot for a few terrifying seconds, but did not complete the trip to the hillside that is Mother Earth.

I’m pretty sure it qualified as a spectacle to anyone who may have looked my direction, but fortunately for me, folks were too busy holding onto their hats to take notice of my Norwegian tip-toe dance.

I had already recorded in my mind the scene of me rolling head over heels down the hillside, coming to rest just beyond the javelin “scratch” line and hearing coach Allan yell “mark” as I skidded to a stop.

I tell you that, to tell you this: Montana late-winter/early spring is an odd time to be taking part in outdoor activities involving things like spears and flying discus plates.

But here in the Treasure State, there is no alternative.

Most sane people, I noticed were NOT in the stands, NOT in their cars but likely at home watching the wind from their fireplace heated interiors.

The handful of dedicated parents and other folks who were in the stands, must have super-glued their blanket bundles to the aluminum bleachers. Coffee sold at the concession stand was being dispensed in those rubber hot water bladders for warming purposes other than drinking.

But none of this stopped the athletes from the dozen or so schools who traveled from throughout Western Montana for the event, the annual Dave Tripp Memorial meet.

In fact, the howling cold may have trimmed some time off the length of the Saturday event, which got underway at 9 a.m.

Teenagers who can often move in slow motion for such mundane things as taking off their sweat suits when it is their turn to perform, seemed to have an extra dose of pep in their step. Standing out in that weather in a t-shirt and shorts uniform is good incentive for lining up, running or jumping, then quickly putting on the outer suits, topped by layers of blankets, sleeping bags, hats and gloves.

Why, you might think, would they not just compete with the outer gear on?

Because in that kind of wind, a “hoodie” can become a mini drag chute. Fluffy sweat pants can work like a wing.

If you were an athlete involved in, say, the 4X400 meters relay, you would experience the positive and negative forces of nature during your turn around the track. For half of the race you would probably be thinking “Geez, I’m really making good time today!”

Then you would enter a turn and be thinking you just entered a wind tunnel and were looking like a mime “running in place”.

Fingertips that are numb and blue do not make for good relay baton hand-offs.

But the big plus is, this weather will eventually warm up. Bright sunshine and temperatures in the 70s will make an appearance sometime hopefully soon.

Javelins will fly straight and true, hurdlers will not get blown into the next lane while in mid-jump.

And pole vaulting will become more of a skill and less of an adventure.

Montanans, it is said, are hardy folks. Bring it on, we like to say. Let me tell you about the time back in 1960….

Summer and river floating will bring relief.

But late winter/early spring in these parts, will always be part of the legend and lore of Big Sky Country.

Just watch out for large photographers rolling out of control down a hillside. Get a good picture of it if you can!