Flooded tent


I walked back to trail alone because the group didn’t look as if they were going anywhere for awhile. I road walked back to trail and found Miles standing at the road crossing. I hadn’t seen him in months so I was overjoyed to catch up.

We climbed together for awhile and got to a park where there was amazing trail magic. A full table of food was laid out for hikers. I chatted with the trail angels and waited for a few hours hoping the guys would catch up. Eventually I left with another hiker in hopes of reaching a backpacking campground.

They guys never caught up with me because it poured rain that night. I set up my tent on a tent pad (never again) and experienced a flood of water. Everything in my tent was soaked as the water flowed under the thin floor. It felt as if I had set up in a swimming pool. I used my flip flop to disperse some of the water, but after awhile I came to accept my fate with good humor. I got out my whiskey, put on some Pink Floyd and watched my flip flop float around in little circles inside my tent.

Trail log:

Flooded tent

The sound of rain as it belts down on a wet tarp, the stressful sound of cold, of a creeping worry that everything will get wet, stay wet and that the weather will win. I’m still getting over these basic fears, learning that maybe the fears only exist relative.


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