Ah yes, a photo DOES say a thousand words. Honestly, the expression is because I'm trying to take a self-portrait and wondering whether I'm even going to be in frame. BUT, it does capture that "Omigod, have I really been hiking in the POURING RAIN?!"
That's right, campers, it rained like a champ Sunday morning. I left the house at 7:15 am and it was sort of drizzling. It was a full-out downpour by the time we gathered in the parking lot at 8:30. It would intermittently disperse, and June (my mentor) would say, "See? See? It's going to be sunny!" Optimism before 9 am. Impressive.
I will say that no one (including me!) was whiny about it, and that made all the difference. Hiking in the rain reminded me of how much I loved mud games when I played soccer. Also, there weren't very many other people out on the trail, and there was this feeling of having it all to ourselves. (Well, maybe shared with the wild turkeys (not the bourbon!) and the deer that we saw. Actually, the wildlife kind of looked at us like we were crazy!)
It was fun stomping through the mud puddles - it went exactly against everything your mother always told you. By the time we got back to the parking lot some two hours later, the backs of my pants were covered in mud from the knees down. Here's where the shopping spree at Sports Basement the night before paid off: I had convertible pants on! (What did they convert into? Not a stealth fighter, sadly - just shorts.) I zipped off the offending legs, changed from supermuddy boots into sparkly flip-flops and drove home dry and happy.
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