Come again another day

There was no warning. The rain fell from the low clouds like a hammer. Sunbeam and I hastened to climb our rain team when the downpour slapped in our arms and the back of our necks.

I saw a heavy drop hit a butterfly in the air, sending it to the earth like a Spitfire in a dog fight with a wing fighting to keep it up, the other wrinkled and beyond saving.

«Man, fuck the weather channel!» He shouted the sun’s ray with a laugh when a second wave of rain descended on us. The path had been dry minutes before; Now the brown water ran through the rocky routine as if something flees.

When we stopped at a lunch shelter, we retired the socks. We hung what we could to dry, but they did not dry.

At night we put the Sunbeam poncho under the store and put my ultralight canvas on it for additional protection. The rain fell hard all night and we stayed a little wet.

But that was weeks ago.

Now we see that the clouds pass slowly without rain and almost without shadow. The water that dripped our faces had come from our bodies. I take off my shirt to climb the hill, it seems useless to let go on my back. Halfway I stop to put it again. Without the shirt to absorb sweat, my back and my arms tickled while running.

We stop to eat and fall another tick of my leg. He had Lyme as a child and caught him on time. I now carry doxycycline in my first aid kit, in case the symptoms begin to appear. The ticks we find in ourselves die in any way more convenient at that time, but all die.

We filtered water and talk about the distance to the next reliable source. «What happens, six and a half?» One of us asks while the other verifies the map. «Mmmm … just over eight.» We sigh and laugh and continue drinking water for «camel» for the next stage of the day. Before leaving, I soaked my shirt in the stream; The water evaporates while walking, but my sweat replaces in the same extent with my sweat. There is no dry, there is only humidity and shock absorber.

The path crosses an open bald and I bring my Sunnies in my eyes. The immediate fog of the lenses leads me to go down again. We joke among them: «Say the humidity again, I challenge you, you dare double Son of a bitch! » – In our best impressions of Pulp fiction.

Since the beginning of the path, all good water sources have had frogs, salamanders or at least some reborn. We reach another current that is little more than wet sand. If the amphibians have already dried and died, they found a better downstream source or had known that this is a loser to begin with, there was no sign of them anywhere.

The groan of a mosquito is repeated almost incessantly and would like to be able to speak with them in a language they understood. Your life means very little for me, but if you do not eliminate it, your death will mean a lot. They fly to our eyes and channels for the ear, feel like an electric shock and stop us every time we dig them.

At night, the air still clings to us, and in the morning we woke up sweating. This week has more hours of sunlight than any other in the year. Under the midday we swam in the James River and love the refreshing touch of the arduous green water that runs with forest debris. A family on a river excursion approaches the boat ramp and invites us to meet them there for a magic of trails. They give us Gatorade ice cream and the knowledge that it will be in the 100s throughout the week.

The lateral path to the water is a room of mile in each direction, but the spring of the mountain is deliciously cold and perfectly clear. I sit in the largest pool, the surface full of water strident and other insects. These, at least, do not pay me.

There is rain in the forecast, and we hope with enthusiasm, we expect anything that demolishes heat. The forecast says it will be another three days. Three days later, the rain is still two days away. Two days after that, the next afternoon should fall. The next night we listen to the light thunder in the distance and hit the swarm that surrounds us. A great gray horse wears a piece of meat from the back of my arm, then dumping lazily around the reach of the crazy agitation of my hat. Finally, a lucky swing hits him and gives me a moment of satisfaction. My arm Pica until I fall asleep.

I wake up in the dark. In exhaustion I stayed earlier than usual and I have slept everything I will do at night. Although there is still no indication of a breeze, the air has cooled at a pleasant temperature and the sky is brilliant with the light of the star. As the mornings extend almost imperceptibly, it marks the time with the slight movement of the constellations against the fixed branches of the great oak above. Soon the sky begins the gray turn on Sunbeam’s sleeping.

Another brilliant day. Smell of hot forest, smell to be hot. Another water transport, another cold current, another glorious fall. Five miles from the road now, five miles from our trip to the city. I am sure that my shorts will be dry by then.

Let’s go in the afternoon. The sky darkens and the air grows heavy. The rise of the storm surrounds us. My rain jacket is stuck at the bottom of my backpack. When the rain finally comes, it comes at the same time. We are going to run and almost running with joy, soaked in a moment. The small currents are beyond the flood, and we walk in the ankle in the water of the color of chocolate milk, laughing all the way. Finally, a break in heat. Finally, the rain has returned to us.

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