We started out in a light rain, and quickly my rain jacket got wet—as in, if it had started really raining, I would have been a sodden sump of sadness. Fortunately, the rain never became a bother, and I never became a grump.
I have many of these so-called rain jackets at home. I grabbed this one as I was packing because I knew I’d encounter wet, and I thought this one was newest. But really, it’s good for nothing.
When I get home, I’m going to seek out the Best Rain Jacket in the World. If there is such a thing. I’d like something I can count on, for once in my life.
Meanwhile, we were walking through bogs and then snow and then more bogs today, and my boots, supposedly waterproof, got soaked pretty much immediately. But I didn’t care! My feet were warm enough (no doubt because of that “waterproofing” barrier), and once they were good and wet, I didn’t have to be careful where I stepped. Bounding down the hills of wet snow on the way back to the støl was very fun!
Of course, wet feet can get cold, and that’s a drag. But as long as they stay warm, I don’t mind wet feet.
I do mind wet clothes, though.
We’re planning to go hiking on a high plateau in a few days—a three-day ramble from hut to hut, possibly through still-snow-covered terrain. Snow, okay; but I am seriously praying it doesn’t rain on those three days. I just checked the forecast. The weather gods seem to be on my side. At the moment, at least.
Keep your fingers crossed for me. Let it stay dry!
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