Pleasures in Rain

Harrican River

Today was the first day of riding in the rain.  Hard rain at times, but mostly gentle and not cold, not unpleasant.  Not after an hour of learning that riding in rain is wet and wet is normal, the way life is. 

An old pickup was parked at the bridge over the Harrican River and I wondered if someone could be fishing in the rain.  It’s Saturday after all and fisherman are known for tenacity in the drowning of worms.  I stopped and looked down on the muddy water flowing past me at the pace a slow walker.  And there he was on a little island baiting a hook.

“What ya fissin’ for?” I called with an affected southern voice, trying to sound normal.

“C’fish” he said without looking at me.

“What?”

“Catfish.”

“How big do they get?” 

“Pretty big.”  He seemed bored with my query and never looked my way.  As I left him, wiping rain off my glasses with my index finger, I supposed that fishing must be his greatest joy, greater than conversation with one who might also do something for joy, even in the rain.  Perhaps he hopes for the gleam in a special someone’s eye when he lays a big catfish out for inspection.

They look like flowering trees, cherry blossoms in the springtime perhaps.  Even in the rain they are lovely.  But on close view, it’s a kind of moss, like Spanish moss, but more shapely, hanging on bare tree limbs.  

I rode into Chattahoochee, a run-down town where most of the stores on main street are vacant.  Even this cornfield on the edge of town as been left with the ears to rot.  I was happy to get into a motel, unpack and find everything that matters dry.  It’s not like this first rainy day was an experiment; I’ve hit rain many times on other bike trips.  But it’s a good feeling to know it worked again. 

I had cheese grits and baked beans with catfish for dinner and didn’t mind picking out the bones.  A man at the next table wore a shirt imprinted with “FAMU Rattlers” (Florida A&M University).  His shoulders were twice as wide as mine.  Black hair in short thin braids bristled on his dark head.  His weight must be four times mine.  “Local catfish,” he said.

Riding in the rain improves many things in life—the taste of food, the luxury of a hot shower, the comfort of sleep.  I know you all can’t enjoy these pleasures as I have.  I feel braggadocios in telling you what a pleasure this evening is, like a rich person bragging on her money.   I wish that when it rains again you could all enjoy it with me.
_________________________________________________________________________

Go to http://goo.gl/maps/e2fS5 for an interactive map showing the places I have slept and intend to sleep.  Thanks to Michael Angerman for preparing and updating this map.  He plans to keep it current, based on information he gleans here on the blog.