FAIL!

Gothics. Pft. It POURED. It DELUGED. The trails were streams. The streams were brooks. The brooks were raging torrents. Channels were lost. Boulders submerged. The rivers became SLABS of water sliding down the mountainside.

I finally got to a stream I was afraid to cross alone. I just stood there... soaking wet... cold... discouraged... looking at the far shore full of longing and thoughts of drowning.

Remember the Wolf Jaws?

Remember success?

Those were different times.