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The rain waited until I was a good distance down the steepest sections descending Pinchot Pass before roaring back to life. I could hear it getting closer and closer, drowning out all other noises, as it inched its way up the canyon. The good thing about hearing it coming was that I had time to stop and put my rain gear on before it struck because once it struck it was like walking through a waterfall.
It didn’t start with tiny drops of rain that grew increasingly larger and closer together. It didn’t start with the fat lazy drops that thud ponderously into the dusty trail. It didn’t start with a big gust of wind blowing the driving rain in at an angle. It was like walking through an automatic car wash: there was nothing and then it was like someone had turned on the power washers drenching everything as…
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