Terrible Day. It starts pouring in the afternoon and barely stops all day.
I make it a short day (after the Sourland exertion the day before I need it).
I settle down in a Park and because I’m unsure about my being allowed to camp I try to get away from he main road, close to the river. Somewhere an alarm bell rings in my head because I’ve had some misfortune happen to me in Uruguay that involved heavy rainfall and a lake that decided to go beyond its limitations like a newbie cyclist attempting a cross-country on a Chinese bike. But I’m tired and I choose to ignore. Until I wake up in the middle of the night and realize I’m inside the river with my tent. It’s barely believable because the rain and water stopped just short of infiltrating the tent itself, but when I step outside I’m to my shinbones in river. So I do a midnight rescue mission, nettles stinging my feet, dragging the stuff to safety, cursing myself and the heavens. My stuff smells of river, dirt and humidity for the next couple of days and I’m really happy with the way things are starting off.
What I’ve learnt from this day: Sometimes you have to able to read the signs…(seen the next morning)
And: Ignoring the rising tides won’t keep your feet dry