Rain, would you please stop? Please? Don't make me beg rain, because you know that I will.
What's up everyone, Breeze here. As you can see, I'm pretty tired of the rain. It's rained every day since my folks dropped us off on the trail last Sunday, and today was definitely the worst weather yet. There's just something about running from a thunderstorm at 3500 feet that makes you feel so alive. In the storms defense, the weather today was all Wendy's fault. He just wasn't believing hard enough. I guess this joke needs some explaining...
Wendy and I have had a running joke out here since we began the trail. Anytime the ball just doesn't seem to be bouncing our way, it's because one of us isn't believing hard enough. If the uphill is particularly tough, or the weather is bad, or the campsite just won't seem to appear, all we have to do is believe that things will get better, and they always seem to.
Ok, so now that you know the background, I can continue with the story. The sky was dropping buckets of rain on us, and lightning was flashing above our heads. I've never been so wet in my life, and keep in mind I have been swimming. Throughout the entire storm I was messing with Wendy. "Come on man, just believe the rain will stop, and it will," I would jokingly say. Or, "You aren't believing hard enough, Wendy. You have to believe! I believe!" Finally, Wendy got tired of my comments, and stops dead on the trail. "Thunderstorm, cease!" he cried, in a Gandalf-esque way. And low and behold, the rain and lightning quit. If you believe, good things will happen. We're thinking of changing our trail names to Wendy the Mystical and Breeze the Believer. We make things happen.
Another good story from the day is about Pretzel the Pony Kicker. Poor, poor Pretzel. Apparently while he was petting the Grayson ponies, one of the baby ponies began chewing on his rain jacket. In order to get the pony to stop, he gently nudged it with his foot. There's one thing you need to know about thru hikers: we love the telephone game. You know the game. Word of mouth has a way of manipulating a story. Wendy and I love the telephone game, so we began telling people that Pretzel the Pony Kicker double foot dropped kicked the poor baby pony off a cliff. By the time the tale reached Pretzel, he was a pony killer. All he could do was crack a grin, but couldn't figure out how so many people had heard the story so fast. Word travels faster than you think out here, Pretzel. Especially when you're going around killing innocent ponies.
Well guys, I've rambled to you long enough. Some of you have jobs I imagine. Until next time!