Isabelle

Half a mile from the lake, it started to rain. I glanced up: skies which were previously clear and blue were now gray and sullen, ready for thunder. I plodded on up the trail.

Earlier I had arrived at the Brainard trailhead, and encountered a distinctly autumnal breeze that called for warmer clothes than a t-shirt. I grabbed a fleece jacket and headed up the trail. About a mile later, in the shelter of the trees, the breeze had all but vanished. I crammed the jacket into my backpack, along with the rest of the equipment I almost never use: wide angle lens, sweat pants, gloves, headlamp, water filter, etc.

On the way up the trail, I checked out other hikers' backpacks. Most people carried tiny, practically gossamer backpacks, like afterthoughts of backcountry fashion, rather than essential survival gear.

Well it was a reasonably pleasant summer afternoon. Do we really 18 pounds of stuff for a couple hours of sunshine? Hmm.

Anyway, I trudged up the trail. A group passed me, asking, "should we worry about this rain? Are we almost there?" No, yes.

So then I got the lake, and the rain stopped. The clouds parted and blue sky shone through. I ate a Larabar and took a bunch of pictures.

On the way down, a crowd of tiny-backpackers had gathered and were whispering to each other, with cellphones pointed the same direction. This usually means that wildlife is happening nearby. Today was no exception: