Growing up in Oregon, my parents called this "liquid sunshine." Which meant we bundled up in our raincoats and went outside anyway. Today was everything I remember fondly of Pacific Northwest rain- greens so bright you nearly need sunglasses, swirling rolling fog, silhouetted evergreens, and that smell of fresh clean air.
|Jan has dubbed these our capes, sort of like superhero capes.|
|Resting feet between raindrops|
Three big climbs today. So much up and down I forget if we are going up or down. Sometimes I ask Jan. Sometimes I forget why I care.
On top of a pass, four guys tell us about the lakes they've passed. I am shivering as I sit and eat my lunch but still want to know about swimming possibilities. Mig Lake, they say, felt warm. An extra spoonful of peanut butter is added to lunch to drive internal heaters in anticipation, in case "warm" doesn't turn out to be so.
Jan and I hike in rainpants, capes, umbrellas and trying various ways to keep fingers from freezing. Stowing poles in the pack and fingers in armpits works as does eating spoonfuls of peanut butter. Jan wears surgical gloves so she can keep using her poles.
Large raindrops are splashing in Mig Lake when we arrive. I splash in too. I'm already wet anyway. It is in fact warm. Sort of. I swim over to lilypads and watch stream rise. Getting out into the rainier air isn't warm, but laughter at the ridiculousness of trying to put clothes back on in now driving rain warms me from the inside. The peanut butter might be helping too.
|Mig Lake. Time to swim!|
|The problem is I ended up dirtier than when I started.|
|Thank you trail maintainers and builders!|
|Hang for the night.|