Never again. What a day. Woke up to rain and seriously considered becoming a hermit until the skies cleared. After obsessively checking the weather forecast and rain radar more times than I’d care to admit, I convinced myself to venture out. I spotted a three-hour break in the clouds, seemingly enough time to tackle the first leg of the day. Oh, were the mistakes made!
Mountain weather is a fickle beast, and my early optimism was soon washed away by an unexpected downpour. Believing it to be just a sprinkle at first, I pushed on until my denial soaked through, and I grudgingly donned my rain gear. As the heavens opened up further, I took refuge under the nearest bus stop. Realizing the rain was settling in for a good sulk, I camped out there for 45 long minutes. Once the rain slowed to a drizzle, I made a break for it. Mistake? Definitely. I was at the foot of what might as well have been Mount Everest, a 10 km uphill, a 750-meter ascent with inclines laughing at 20%. Halfway up, soaked to the bone and miserable (since being wet ranks lowest my list of likes) I took another bus stop breather.
Chilling quickly from the climb, my rain gear turned into an unintentional sauna suit. I swapped shirts, added sleeves, and attempted to air-dry my jacket. The radar, ever the liar, showed clear skies, or nearly so. I waited another hour and a half, hope dwindling.
Convinced the rain was in for the long haul, I pushed on. The light rain stalked me most of the way, with heavy rain jumping in after 45 minutes. I took shelter under whatever roof I could find, cursing the never ending ascent. The summit seemed a myth, always just around the corner yet perpetually out of reach. By some miracle, I reached the peak, unsure whether I was more drenched from rain or sweat.
Just as I was about to call it quits, weather threw me a bone, the rain stopped. With only downhill left, I decided to coast to the next town and reassess. Downhills are usually a breeze, but when you’re a walking puddle, they’re just cold. Braking like a madman to avoid turning into an ice cube, I managed most of the descent. Reaching the town, I realized I was closer to my daily goal than expected. What’s another two hours of frostbite compared to the day’s saga?
The downhill was like crossing into another dimension. All I had to do to escape the rain was get over that mountain. Easier said than done, right? Dry roads welcomed me on the other side, the air noticeably warmer, or perhaps that was just relief. The brief appearance of the sun recharged my spirits, and I made another pit stop at a bus station to change into dry clothes and air everything else. Suddenly dry and warm, it felt like I’d teleported to the end of my journey. Still, the rain had to wave one last soggy farewell.
What a day, never again. Well, unless the same thing happens tomorrow. The forecast hasn’t changed, so let’s see if the rain checks my schedule and decides to cooperate. Given the symphony of raindrops I’m falling asleep to, I’m not holding my breath.
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