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Walking in Rain

© Kelly Winters

Most hikers and walkers hate rain. It's cold, it's wet, and it adds weight to everything it touches, making your pack seem even heavier than it is; and it's uncomfortable. Sometimes you have the option to wait out a rainy day, but if you're on a long trek, you may have to walk in bad weather if you want to reach your goal. Hikers on the Appalachian Trail, walking north from Georgia to Maine, often say "No pain, no rain, no Maine," meaning that if you can't get through the first two, you won't ever see the third.

Rain can be dangerous-when the temperature is in the 60s or below, and it's windy, it's deceptively easy to become hypothermic and slide without warning from discomfort to danger. In addition, it makes the way slippery, turning trails into rivers, making fallen leaves as slippery as banana peels, and turning creeks tiny enough to jump over into serious rivers that must be forded.

Despite these hazards, if you change your attitude toward rain, hiking when it's wet out can be a pleasure. This can seem like a stretch, because most people are conditioned to hate rain. Weather forecasters often say that it will be a "gloomy," "bad," or "nasty" day, and most people believe them. When I used to work indoor office jobs, I was often amazed when people showed up to work complaining about the rain. When questioned, they admitted that they didn't even have to go out in it-they went straight from the house to the garage, from the garage to the car, and straight to the parking garage at work. Not one drop of water had touched them, but they were all set to have a "miserable" day, just because it was raining outside and they accepted the notion that this was bad.

I recently took two beginner backpackers on a five-day trip. During that time, we had a wide range of weather: drought conditions during which it was difficult to find water; oppressive heat and humidity; thunderstorms; the arrival of a cold front, and an all-day pouring rain. At first, they were skeptical of my claim that rainy days could be fun: back home in civilization, they hated rain and never went out in it if they could avoid it.

On the second-last day of the trip, we covered a lot of miles, and it was hot: sweaty, dripping hot; and it was uphill for miles at the end of the day. As we climbed the mountain, clouds gathered overhead, making the shade in the dense evergreen forest even darker green, and charging the air with expectation. On more distant mountains, thunder rumbled. We quickened our pace: we were only a mile from a lean-to where we could find shelter for the night. Sticky and sweating, we powered up the mountain, racing the storm.