Here, rain is a mystery. It sometimes falls, but when it does, it rarely lasts. When it lasts for a week, like it has this week, we all feel a bit put out. People stomp around looking less than cheerful. It's funny how quickly I forgot the daily rain existence.
|Ruby doesn't care if it rains. I should be more like a dog.|
|Our lovely latrine. We decided we could start a company called Hillbilly Crappers R Us.|
At first, all was fine. October 30th and I was wearing shorts, I marveled. Life was good! The hill near Chief Joseph's grave felt easy for a change. I passed mile marker 3, then 4. All was still good. Then an ominous cloud appeared over the mountains. Uh-oh, I thought. But then: I was so close to the turn-around point. I had to keep going! Surely it wouldn't....
Suddenly a few drops of rain pelted my helmet. A storm was bearing down. What ensued probably looked hilarious to the car-bound occupants who passed--a lone biker, pedaling for all she was worth, but being overtaken. The sprinkles became a downpour. Soggily I wheeled up to the house.
I pondered my seven year tenure in the rain forest. Maybe I was just tougher then? I used to run in the rain all the time, just wearing a T shirt and shorts. We hiked too, and camped all the time. More likely it's just that you can get used to almost anything.
|Our tent in Endicott Arm (near Juneau). After this photo, it rained so much that the floor of the tent soaked through. Good times!|