Back in the day, before the Age of the Internet, personal ads filled many pages in local papers, including the classified-ad freesheets that could be had for the taking at any HyperMart or ser-sta-gro. These ads always made enlightening reading, even if you weren’t in the market for a new life-partner, and I was surprised to learn just how many folks enjoyed taking long walks in the rain. Moreover, they all sought soul-mates who shared their enthusiasm. And why was I surprised? Well, Farwell and I actually spent quite a few days each year walking (and paddling) in all weathers, both in the course of our work and in our free time. And while we could usually count on meeting plenty of couples on balmy summer days when there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, whenever it rained we often had the woods and the waters to ourselves, particularly if the rain was more than a passing shower. ’Twas indeed a puzzlement, and I couldn’t help but wonder where all the romantics who advertised their pluvial passions in the local freesheets had got to. Now, some years on, I’m still wondering. I still go out in the rain—if I didn’t, I’d have stayed indoors all this past summer!—but I don’t meet many other folks when I do. What’s going on here?

The answer is obvious to anyone who spends much time in the wet, of course. Rain, especially cold, wind-driven, insistent rain, is not an aid to romance. At best, it’s uncomfortable, in much the same way as a toothache is uncomfortable: a constant, unpleasant distraction. And at worst? Pretty bad, indeed. In fact, cold rain can kill you, damping all your essential internal fires until, little by little, they die down and then go out. That said, most backcountry travelers manage to cope with rain. A few lucky souls even learn to enjoy it. I’m happy to say I’m one of these lucky ones, and so is In the Same Boat reader Len Cowan, who writes, “I actually love to paddle in the rain.” He cites the pleasure to be had from intimate observation of “the sound and pattern of raindrops.” So far, so good. However, he immediately adds a very important proviso: “but only if I’m comfortable.” Good point, Len. Comfort is king in most things in life, and nowhere is this more true than when you find yourself paddling through a soaking drizzle.

The upshot? If you hanker after long walks in the rain, or if you just want to paddle whenever you can—and enjoy it, whatever the weather throws your way—then Job One is obviously finding your comfort zone… Read more…

 
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