On Saturday, Rachel, Joella and I went whitewater rafting. It was incredible. I felt queasy before we began, but the moment we were on the water, paddling ourselves out of the group of 21 rafts, I felt exhilarated, brand new. And it only got better and better.
After a stop for lunch, we found the clouds gathering and darkening. The rain wasn't a problem, but the lightning would be. Happily, the storm missed us, and we carried on, until the river bent, and we ran straight into it. There was no take-out area anywhere near us. So we took cover under low-hanging trees and the rain fell hard. The storm never centered over us, and it was a beautiful rain, a warm and heavy blanket. When the thunder and lightning moved on, we paddled back out to the main current, and the rain continued to pour.
As we paddled, the rain eased up, and the clouds dispersed. Sunshine instead of rain filled the air ahead of us, and we passed into daylight, thick like honey from the humidity.
After taking out, we loaded into two school buses to return to the outfitter. Soon, the rain began to pour hard and fast. The moment we disembarked, everyone was soaked anew, and this time the rain was sharp and cold, so our teeth chattered as we tried to find a space in the gift shop where we would neither ruin merchandise nor be continually moistened by leaks in the ceiling.
The weather never cleared up entirely on Saturday. We returned to a tent that had collected significant moisture (though no standing water, as I had expected), and had to use Joella's ShamWow to soak things up. Then another thing happened that I didn't expect: I slept deep and long, like a tired child.
Another water story:
Immediately following our camping trip, I joined a friend and her family for their beach trip. After two days of flawless beach weather, it was Wednesday, and we saw the clouds gathering. We knew what was coming. But it was our last day at the beach, and all my companions dearly love being in the water. I encouraged them to get in while they had the chance. I read Animal Farm. Then the drops began. I packed a few things up and read some more. Then I realized how dark it was and how impossible it would be for us to miss the storm. I packed up an umbrella and stood under the remaining umbrella, willing my friends to come join me so we might miss the thunder and lightning. At last, they were the last people in the water. They saw the solitary open umbrella, bolstered by folded chairs and sheltering one pair of legs that paced in a small track, waiting.
We loaded up faster than trained navy SEALS and headed for the street, even braving a small river that had formed where the path from the boardwalk had been. We barely made it past the sand when the thunder and lightning cracked above our heads, and we rushed for the nearest cover: an outdoor staircase at a hotel. There we unburdened ourselves of our metals chairs and metal umbrella poles, and stood under the eaves of the building. After perhaps twenty minutes, the storm seemed to have moved on sufficiently, and we ventured out of our hiding place. Another loud CRACK! Back up we all went for another ten minutes before braving the foot (or more) of water that covered the street corners. Water even covered the yellow line in the middle of the road.
We were sloshing through this foot or so of water when I saw a perfect lightning bolt at the end of the same street, and heard the thunder almost immediately. I almost ran back to the house where we were staying. My, but it's good to be soaked and alive.
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