It started pouring last night. It's let up a bit now but as the sun is coming up, I can see that the next dousing is not far behind. It had to happen and I'm not complaining (yet). I know we've been needing it and, in its own way, the rain is a beautiful thing.
The rivers will start to rise and the whitewater kayakers will start to smile more often. Snow will fall in the higher elevations, meaning skiers will start to get happy (and I'll be able to get moving on the list of articles I have to do for visitrainier.com.) Micah's only got one more soccer game - maybe it will be a mudbath to finish the season - that would be fun.
The steadily falling water that defines this part of the country doesn't have much effect on sea kayaking or SUP. I suppose it means we'll wear more clothes, more layers. We'll hone our rough water skills again, using whatever we need to to get around that point or across that channel. The water will get lumpier, the winds will get stronger and we'll get happier, in some twisted way.
Still, it's nice, before the storms start to change the dynamic, to go for an evening ride on the tide, like I did yesterday. The narrows was moving but there was no wind and the water's surface was the smooth tracks of the various currents. Faster here and there, little whirlpools over there. A log speeds by to the west, a half-dozen cormorants hitching a ride northward. All of us, venturing out on the sea, making our way to one port or another. I paddle to the shade of the far bank, then turn and make my way home. Slipping one way, then the other, the board is my ship, and I am an explorer returned from far horizons.