For most of my life the great outdoors was paired with a very simple mantra. Avoid rain at all costs.
Used to hate the stuff.
But live in the south — which I did a few years back, New Orleans to be precise — and you’ll need to make concessions. Resist the rain and you’ll be a prisoner of your apartment/car/restaurant/cafe. So, I went with the flow and learned not to sweat the drizzles and downpours. It’s same in the redwoods. At 100-plus inches a year, resistance is truly futile. But I still marvel at people who pay a hard rain no heed.
Will was a perfect example. From England, he must have given in to the wet stuff from the beginning. His stay here was marked with cloudy, rainy, and windswept days. But he paid the rain no attention. He walked Stout Grove, forded Mill Creek in his bare feet (while carrying his grown daughter on his back!), deciphered clues and walked the Grove of Titans, even surfed a bit in the Pacific. And when it was time to leave, he took a walk up the road to meet his ride up on 199 — he really didn’t care a steady drizzle was again upon us.
Will was a hardy one who woke early, traveled light, and braved the skies no matter how dark or damp. I could learn something from this guy.