Up at five today, and hiking by six. As we climbed higher into the hills, clouds rolled in. Suddenly, it began to hail. We'd just left the Mojave Desert, and there were hailstones stinging us as we walked.
It stopped hailing soon enough, and we were left with a cloudy sky and a cool hike. We sat down for lunch at a spring, and, just as we finished, it began to rain. We put on our jackets and pack covers and hiked out, hoping that the rain would subside, but it didn't. The trail became muddy, my shorts were soaked, and my hands were freezing. Hiking in the rain is a miserable experience. When we encounter it in the north, we'll be ready for it. Here, though, there are no deciduous trees to take cover under. The entire ground is wet, and there's no escape.
We put in ten miles and made it to a campground just as the rain let up. As I sat in my tent cooking dinner, the sun finally burst through the clouds, warming me. I took the water pot from my stove (in my vestibule; I don't want to burn my tent down), and, leaning in, tried to blow out the flame. A cloud of fire leapt out into my face. Now it smells like burned hair in here, and one of my eyebrows is slightly shorter. Night!
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