Rain, rain go away, come again another day...

Today, finally, Brad departs from Havelock. Not on schedule at all because of rain, rain and more rain. The Pelorus River, along with all its tributaries, has been high making crossings dangerous, if not impossible, all along the trail.

Pelorus River from Pelorus River Bridge, looking gentle, calm and non threatening

Hanging out at the hostel for another day or two made more sense than tackling the trail in non-stop rain and then getting stuck in a soggy tent waiting for crossing opportunities. Flooding in the Marlborough District is a serious enough issue that there's a website called: Flood Watch to provide up-to-date flooding information. By last evening when I last chatted with Brad, the rain had stopped and the river was returning to normal flow. He was leaving in the morning (that's about now!).

Sometimes, keeping one's feet dry is a river-crossing option.

Photo by David Noble

In the wait for the rain to stop yesterday, Brad did four hours of welding and other work for the owners of the hostel where he was staying; finished a book; blogged (See days 41-70 for more updated Te Araroa Trail tramping adventures); and solved a cash problem he's been having. His visa card will only work at the larger banks so he needed to send his card into the city with the hostel owners so they could get food-purchasing-cash for him.

So he's now with food, with cash, with pack packed, with rain stopped and with a will to get back on the trail. He's off into the wilderness so we won't hear from him for a spell. I'm hoping the friends he'd wanted to catch were stopped by the rain too so the distance between them didn't increase.

I'm now beginning a long tramp too -- no towns, no phone, no e-mail, no chat, no postcards, no blog updates, no Brad, for a long time...

Rain

I can hear you

making small holes

in the silence

rain

If I were deaf

the pores of my skin

would open to you

and shut

And I

should know you

by the lick of you

if I were blind

the something

special smell of you

when the sun cakes

the ground

the steady

drum-roll sound

you make

when the wind drops

But if I

should not hear

smell or feel or see

you

you would still

define me

disperse me

wash over me

rain

by Hone Tuwhare