Imagine ten women (eight of which have no backpacking experience) strapping on backpacks full of all the normal gear plus shared food, kitchenware and tools, and tackling the rock scrambles of New Hampshire for the first time. Then imagine that again, but with rain.
I had no hat to speak of, though there was one sitting smugly in my Jeep back at AMC’s Camp Dodge, which I talked about in my first post. I had a rain jacket, of course. An old EMS one I bought in 2009, that was starting to peal off in places, but worked non-the-less. I wasn’t wearing it, though. Instead, rain poured down on me soaking my t-shirt, shorts, and underwear through. It rolled down my hair, flowing from my side bangs so that my vision was a frightening mix of dark brown hair, water, and unfocused trail in front of me.
Before the rain hit us the weather was the opposite. Read More