"Hon, should I put the little rain cover on my pack?"
"Nah, it won't be that bad," Mike replied.
Yeah, right. Mike and I went on a beautiful solitary walk with Teddy. It was so wet, my shirt was soaked down the front because I didn't zip up my rain jacket all the way to my neck. It was so wet that the rain rolled off my rain jacket and dripped onto my jeans. Jeans were not right for this weather. The water eventually dripped into my socks and threatened the inside of my boots. They're damp now. Then, as if that weren't enough, the wet wicked up under my rain coat and soaked me up to mid-thigh. My rain coat comes down below my knees. Mike's raincoat is shorter and his jeans wicked all the way up his thighs. My back stayed dry though. I had my backpack on.
There were deer ferns and piles of moss on the rocks and fallen logs. Streams danced across the trail. There was no way to keep them from the trail, so the trail-blazers simply put in a rocky route across. It was beautiful and I was initially pleased that my new boots stayed dry inside. I won't return them, since they only got wet because wet came down from my ankles.
The evergreens had bits of new growth. Deciduous trees were that pale green that's almost yellow. The canopy in the forest dripped less on us than out in the open, but it was if we were entering Dorothy's forest when the trail went back in. It was so dark in there, it was almost ominous. Given another three hundred years, you wouldn't be able to walk between the trees.
When we made it back, soaked and happy after our short walk, I unzipped my backpack to put my notebook back in. Not a good idea.
Everything inside was soaked. I mean dripping.
So, when we got home, I emptied the First Aid kit and laid band-aids, gauze pads, bottles of Advil, Benadryl, and Neosporin onto the dining table. I took out my Ziploc full of snacks, packets of peanut butter, tomato juice, a tuna salad packet, some spare rooibus tea, a couple of soggy packets of stevia, a pack of pepperoni, and GoGoSqueez. I hung the scarf and gloves. Soaked. My glasses case was dripping. My portable towel had soaked up as much water as it could. The strike-anywhere matches weren't ever going to strike anywhere again. Even the little red rain cover for my pack needed to be stretched out to dry.
So, my advice is that if your husband gets you a nifty little backpack with a little red rain cover velcroed inside a pocket, then you should use it when it rains, even if he says you needn't bother.
Welcome to the Pacific Northwest. If you leave it out in the weather for a season, it will either melt or grow moss. I believe that I've grown moss.
Thank you for listening, jb
"Nah, it won't be that bad," Mike replied.
Yeah, right. Mike and I went on a beautiful solitary walk with Teddy. It was so wet, my shirt was soaked down the front because I didn't zip up my rain jacket all the way to my neck. It was so wet that the rain rolled off my rain jacket and dripped onto my jeans. Jeans were not right for this weather. The water eventually dripped into my socks and threatened the inside of my boots. They're damp now. Then, as if that weren't enough, the wet wicked up under my rain coat and soaked me up to mid-thigh. My rain coat comes down below my knees. Mike's raincoat is shorter and his jeans wicked all the way up his thighs. My back stayed dry though. I had my backpack on.
There were deer ferns and piles of moss on the rocks and fallen logs. Streams danced across the trail. There was no way to keep them from the trail, so the trail-blazers simply put in a rocky route across. It was beautiful and I was initially pleased that my new boots stayed dry inside. I won't return them, since they only got wet because wet came down from my ankles.
The evergreens had bits of new growth. Deciduous trees were that pale green that's almost yellow. The canopy in the forest dripped less on us than out in the open, but it was if we were entering Dorothy's forest when the trail went back in. It was so dark in there, it was almost ominous. Given another three hundred years, you wouldn't be able to walk between the trees.
When we made it back, soaked and happy after our short walk, I unzipped my backpack to put my notebook back in. Not a good idea.
Everything inside was soaked. I mean dripping.
So, when we got home, I emptied the First Aid kit and laid band-aids, gauze pads, bottles of Advil, Benadryl, and Neosporin onto the dining table. I took out my Ziploc full of snacks, packets of peanut butter, tomato juice, a tuna salad packet, some spare rooibus tea, a couple of soggy packets of stevia, a pack of pepperoni, and GoGoSqueez. I hung the scarf and gloves. Soaked. My glasses case was dripping. My portable towel had soaked up as much water as it could. The strike-anywhere matches weren't ever going to strike anywhere again. Even the little red rain cover for my pack needed to be stretched out to dry.
So, my advice is that if your husband gets you a nifty little backpack with a little red rain cover velcroed inside a pocket, then you should use it when it rains, even if he says you needn't bother.
Welcome to the Pacific Northwest. If you leave it out in the weather for a season, it will either melt or grow moss. I believe that I've grown moss.
Thank you for listening, jb
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