Thursday, April 26, 2007

A couple weekends ago we went apartment hunting on a thoroughly wet Saturday. Heaven was gleefully dumping buckets of water. Jon and I reminisced about different hiking trips we've taken in which liberal amounts of water were involved.
My stories (slowly adding to them!) come nowhere near Jon's. He tells of hiking the Appalachian Trail when the trail was nothing more than a cheerful river. I think his worst one is when he went somewhere in Tennessee with his friend and it rained nonstop the entire time. If you can, imagine hiking in clothes thoroughly sopping wet in 50 degree weather. Shirt, pants, underwear, socks, boots, the whole shebang is so soaked that you can grab a fistful of shirt and squeeze out enough water to fill a Nalgene.
This isn't the worst part.
Now, imagine peeling all of this squelching mess off, warming up tolerably for the night. Come morning, though, you must put all of your soggy clothes (which have only dried to a clammy dampness) back on. The worst part of all is pulling on wet, cold socks and wet, cold shoes. Nothing freezes you up better than cold footwear.

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