Well, goolleeeey! A surprise nero in Bromley!
First of all, though—argh. My phone updated itself! It’s all different! I… I… I’m not sure! It’s just different!
Anyhoo. Did it rain last night? Oh, hell yes. Epic! It may have been the third or fourth single biggest storm I’ve tented in since March. And it would have been OK, I think, except for the facts that 1) it was super windy, and 2) I was pitched on a platform. Pitching on a platform means I can’t get as tight as I like. So the fly flapped like a kite, and it rained inside… a lot. Remember the other day when I said the current situation wasn’t going to be great in the rain?
I was right!
The quilt got damp, but in general the stuff stayed dry. That’s because I pack up every night as though it’s going to pour. The tent was wet, and the air mattress was wet. The only real issue was my departure time: sadly delayed by the effort to keep the dry things dry, and the bailing and mopping.
I hit the trail at 7:45. I knew I was 2 miles from a big intersection and that I’d be walking the 2.5 miles to the Bromley Market for breakfast and a short-term resupply. By the time I got to the market, the clouds were thick and black. I was carrying the soaked tent, and the weather report was calling for a 60% chance of more rain, plus overnight temps in the 30s.
Well, the hell with it, I thought. I’m shacking up to dry off.
Thus my plan’s already a day off schedule.
On the other hand, I’m in this fabulous place that I otherwise would have missed. Johnny Seesaw’s! Oldest ski lodge in the country, on the National Register of Historic Places. It reminds me of the Betsy Ross house in Philly, but rustic: quaint narrow halls, old wood. I want to come back here some day. But not to ski. More like to sleep and eat. Oh, that’s what I’m doing now!
Anyway, yeah. It didn’t really rain. I could have hiked. Sometimes you make the decision and it’s the wrong call. Or a different call, anyway. But I have my resupply, and they’re driving me to the trailhead in the morning.
Que sera sera.