A very wet night. There was no rhythm to the falling rain. I think the drips from the birches overhead broke the rhythm. They hit the taut fly of the tent and wounded like a flat drum and sometimes like a jandal slapping a sole.
Morning dawned and it was still raining and dreary. Maybe a rest day? But just after 9 it stopped and the forecast was to clear so it was pack up the tent in record time and away.
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