I’ve planned to hike in the Adirondacks today. Meeting a friend at the trail head. With the understanding, of course, that I’m bagging-out if it rains. I’ve had more than my share of rainy hikes. In the Adirondacks. Wet leaves over wet rocks are slippery as ice, but with a trustworthy appearance. When it rains in the woods the amount of water seems to multiply exponentially. Each drop that lands on a leaf turns to three. You become wet to the bone in moments, regardless of the Gortex you’re wearing. And even though your hiking boots are waterproof, your socks are saturated by the water that’s running off your legs. Water drips from your nose and your chin. You’re saturated. I’ve had this experience many times. I’ve become a fair weather hiker. I don’t mind if the temperature is well below zero. Bring it on. But I like clear skies. It’s just more fun these days. Not to mention safer.
But then there’s the sounds you hear on the rainy days. The rain on the trees is a cacophony of tiny drums. The birds will be out. I can’t recognize a single one from its song, but still. And there’s the company. Hiking up a mountain with a friend, catching-up, sharing stories of the past several months. And, best of all, there will be few other people out. I’m not alone in preferring to hike on clear days. And I’m a prima donna when it comes to privacy. I like to have the place to myself. Whether it’s the mountain, the beach, the museum, or the theater I don’t want to have to contend with crowds. Not a realistic preference, but none the less, that’s how I like it.
The rain is teeming down as I write this. The forecast calls for rain showers all day long. All Day Long. My lunch is packed, along with a big water bottle and a change of clothes for the ride home. I’ll be leaving in 15 minutes. It’s going to be a rainy hike. Guess I’m going to go for a walk in the rain.