Lost in the Rain

Day 151: Meltdown south of White Pass

I have the forest to myself. I have the trail to myself. What glory and grace to feel like this part of the path is mine, all mine.  The rain isn’t so bad, given that I have dry clothes. And so I am warm enough, though certainly not toasty. The views don’t extend far, but the foreground is lovely with use of autumn subdued by the weather.

Then the mist rolls in thicker and thicker. The trail detour is marked by a simplistic line in purple, making me dependent upon silly laminated signs that may or may not be at vague trail crossings. I climb, I descend, I climb again. Deeper into the fog I rise. The trail hits a ridgeline and goes two ways.  Do I go left? Do I go right? I do not know if the trail heads east and down over this ridgeline, or if the trail should continue to ascend along the backbone. In the midst of water, constant rain, lack of light, increasing wind, a never ending day without breaks, and the absence of another human, I begin to cry.  I have the trail to myself. I do not prefer that right now. 

But at least there are lots of mushrooms.


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