RAIN ON THE PRAIRIE

I was huddled under a huge paper birch tree. You know, the kind that has bark peeling off the trunk that looks like it could be used in a pinch as typewriter paper? I was on my bike and heading for the cemetery. Still i got drenched and spent the next hour laying in the hot sun at the tool shed trying to dry out. Then one time i was in the belly of the volcano on the island of Maui and thought it would be hip to just stay in that sacred place overnight, in my little tent. Which i did, and was blown to pieces by all that sky, all that heaven just right there, so close it felt like you might just get whisked away any instant by a passing UFO. The next morning dawned cloudy and a heavy rain came in, making the long upward slog out to the parking lot at 10,000 feet a freezing, wet affair. Boy did that rental cars heater feel great on the way off the mountain to the warm waves far below. Next was the time i was pedaling down the California coast and the morning drizzle soon became a noontime deluge. The temperatures were mild so i kept on pedaling till a friendly looking Motel 6 came into view and i lounged in the luxury of that no star accommodation enjoying the Super Bowl and soaking for hours in the bathtub of hot water. Another day i found myself on the road to nowhere when a rain storm swooped in from the chilly north. With no shelter in all directions i walked onward, my Simple Barney boots getting wetter and wetter until they felt like two buckets of dishwater attached to my feet. Having put in nearly 20 miles for the day i headed off a hill to an enticing meadow below that bordered a small stream and cow flops here and there. Soon i was sound asleep in the cozy tent in a change of dry clothes from the backpack. Later that afternoon the summer sun returned, drying out my socks, pants and shirt that were hanging in a nearby tree. Steam rose from them. A woodpecker thunked a tune high above. Then of course the worst time rain comes is when you are locked onto a speeding frieght train heading for some unknown destination out there somewhere. You could see it long before it hit. One of those low lying, dark and ominous clouds that roll across the prairie like a Mac truck and slam into you saying, "Here I am. Are you ready for a good old wash down pal?". And washed i was, but luckily again an afternoon sun blazed in, chasing the cloud away and warming the hills, the train and me enough to dry things off within the hour. A friend of mine who climbs all the big mountains on this side of the world once commented that human skin is waterproof! That made me realize to never be afraid of the rain. Just make sure you have the right clothing. Like yesterday. Yet another day of rain? Unbelievable here in our relatively dry country. But, down it came. So to hell with this, i said, pulling on the rubber boots, rain jacket and gloves and went out to rebuild the Nanking Cherry bush enclosure anyway. Still though, it's hard to live through. Endless down pourings. All my shoes are soaked. The lawn squishes when you go down to the river. The squirrel eats his cones on my hobbit hole door, showering the entrance with the remains. It makes one wonder where is all that water coming from anyway? And will it ever stop? I've got adventuring to do! The high mountain passes await my snow shoe laden feet. The far away roads of Oregon pine for the spin of the trikes three wheels. Until then, I guess I'll just read another book. HOBO

Comments

[Grizz]

WHOA! maybe hobo'ng in a drier place would be easier...but then again, making things easier isn't necessarily what hobo'ing is about.