Today is the first day I actually came off trail because of bad weather. I hiked 7 miles before I came off and was thoroughly soaked and cold. It had been raining since 1 PM the day before, and I decided to go to a hotel where I would be warm and dry. It turns out many of my hiker friends did almost the exact same thing today.
Hiking in the rain is okay. Being soaked all the way through your rain gear and having wet shoes to wear and a wet tent to sleep in is not so much fun, especially when you’ve been in rain nearly every day of the last 49 days – since the middle of April.
It’s far easier to think of all the miseries associated with constant rain, so I challenged hiker friends to come up with things we like about rain:
1) No snakes when it’s raining, including timber rattlers
2) It’s usually much cooler too, which is terrific for hiking as long as you stay dry enough not to shiver when your core cools down after you stop. (Three of us were shivering so much today we had to pick up the pace.)
3) It keeps the mosquitos, gnats, no-see-ums, sweat bees, and all those other pesky flying insects from swirling around your head and biting you.
4) We don’t have to wear a brimmed hat or sunscreen, but we do pull on the hood of our rain jackets.
5) We are grateful for the additional water sources, as every spring and wet weather creek is full of water. Here in Virginia we have had longer mileage between some water sources, so having unexpected refill spots is very nice.
One of my friends back home suggested quiet time contemplating, which is a plus. However, we usually hike alone for hours and hours every day, so we have lots of thinking time, rain or shine.
Even though we had four days without rain last week and a couple days that it only rained right as we set up camp, when the rain started back again three days ago it was very discouraging. Let me give you some background facts to set the stage:
- A part of I-40 by the Great Smoky Mtns was closed due to mudslide from rain a few weeks ago.
- The highway I was picked up from today was closed two weeks ago, because of mudslides across the highway.
- Virginia set its record rainfall for May this year.
- Four miles of the AT near Harper’s Ferry, was five feet under water several days ago.
This is my typical day in multi-day rainstorms:
I awake and look around at the wet clothes hanging in my tent. The smell of mildew hits me full force as I dress, but thankfully some clothes are just damp and I put them on hoping body heat dries them quickly. I unzip my rainfly and look out at the mist and fog, glad it isn’t actually raining because I need to run out of the tent for a potty break.
Hurrying back, I carefully plop my hind-end inside the tent door, leaving my feet outside until I can take off my mud covered camp shoes. I try in vain to wipe the dirt and wet leaf bits off my feet before pulling them inside the tent. If it isn’t raining yet, then it’s back outside soon to cook breakfast and coffee, where I huddle on a foam pad placed on a rock or log to keep my shorts dry.
Then I pack up my stuff and put it into my backpack, covering it with it’s rain cover in case it starts raining before my tent is down. Then I take my soaking wet rainfly and stuff it into its bag with the tent, where all will be thoroughly wet until I (hopefully) have a chance to dry it when the sun comes out. Finally, I put on my last dry socks and then put on my wet boots, knowing the boots may soak my socks all the way through.
Now I am all set to make another crucial decision: raincoat or no raincoat? Going uphill in a raincoat is like being in a sauna. Leaving off my raincoat with a gentle rain is the best option, but if it suddenly downpours…, then I am as soaked as if I fell in a river.
Finally I start hiking. It’s 8 am and I am stepping in mud right away, hopping around puddles and looking for high ground when the path is completely flooded. Much of the time I walk straight up running water as the path is now a little creek. Lately, I notice lots of newly fallen trees across the path, tumbled when the saturated earth could no longer hold them. I climb up and over the branches and trunks, thankful none fell as I hiked along.
Rocks and tree roots are especially slippery, so I hike slower than I would like, to keep from twisting an ankle or knee, or stepping into a hole covered by water.
Squish, squish, squish go my feet. I come to a view point. It’s fogged in and I see nothing. Squish, squish, squish and I arrive at a shelter and sit for awhile wondering if the sun will come out so I can dry my tent. I didn’t take earlier breaks because everything was soaking wet, and it’s no fun opening your pack in the rain. Scooting back against the shelter wall, I eat lunch and ask other hikers if they have an updated weather report. Everyone hopes the sun will come out. Then I close my pack, make the raincoat decision for the umpteenth time that day and keep hiking.
As I near the place I want to camp, I mentally go through my packed clothes, assuring myself I have something dry to wear that night for sleeping, and hoping the rain will stop long enough to set up my tent. Muddy boots come off and wet camp shoes are put on. Dinner is made. I check the weather report and say goodnight to fellow hikers. It’s 8 pm and I’ve hiked fifteen or more miles through another wet and foggy day. As I lay down to sleep, I think about how lucky I am to be able to do this hike and am still glad to be on the AT.