My wife Becky is shivering uncontrollably and crying with fear.
The wind is so strong it is toppling trees, ripping apart buildings and sending furniture flying across our resort in Nadi, Fiji.
Tropical cyclone Winston feels almost apocalyptic up close.
We take a deep breath, count to three and make a dash for it.
It is only 50 metres from the restaurant to our room.
We run for our lives.
Driving rain pelts our bodies and the wind – reportedly up to 300kph – is close to knocking us of our feet.
We dodge debris, splash through ankle-high water and struggle up a flight of stairs.
The power of the storm is frightening but we make it to our door safely.
Fumbling, I turn the key and we burst into the room, drenched, exhausted and relieved.
Water is leaking from the ceiling onto the bed.
Crashing noises make us jump as the howling wind sends missiles into our roof.
Yet we feel safer than in the restaurant, where the large glass windows were close to breaking despite a makeshift barricade of overturned tables.
There is nothing we can do now except sit it out.
Becky shelters in the bathtub, believing it is the safest place to be, while I try to get some rest.
It is not easy to sleep.
I worry about the roof caving in or the windows shattering.
I think about our evacuation too.
Earlier in the day we escaped from Malolo Island, which is part of the Mamanuca group to the west of the Viti Levu mainland, on a small, six-person boat.
It was a scary ordeal.
The boat was thrown about by the rough seas, tipping wildly left and right and coming close to sending us overboard.
Waves sprayed warm salt water into our faces, stinging our eyes, and the boat repeatedly slammed into the sea with a bang as it rode the undulations of the water.
But in true Fijian style our captain seemed unfazed by the situation and – with a smile on his face – skilfully navigated us to safety.
I wake up at 6am to the sound of light rain.
The wind has subsided.
We tentatively head outside to investigate with our friend Mark, who also sheltered in our room overnight.
A 30ft tree is in the swimming pool.
Car windows are smashed.
The thatched roof of a nearby hut is missing.
Fencing, beds, broken air conditioning units, guttering, light fittings, branches, tables and hundreds of coconuts lay strewn across the hotel site.
It is a scene of destruction.
But thankfully most of the damage is superficial.
The manager says there are no reports of any injuries and all of the main buildings are in tact.
She still says ‘bula’ (hello) jovially and asks us if we are ok.
The Fijian people have been amazing to us during our travels – incredibly warm and friendly.
It is likely to be a long and hard process of rebuilding.
But I’m confident the Fijians have the spirit and positivity to pull through.