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.
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.