Last night I set off with a smaller than usual crowd of paddlers from the sea kayaking club for the regular Wednesday night paddle.
The clouds hung low about the hills, and rain came down in large, widely spaced drops to break the surface of the otherwise undisturbed water.
It felt quiet. I could hear each paddle stroke tear through the water as I rounded the first headland and peered out the towards the mouth of the river Derwent into a grey merging of the sky and the river.
I felt like I was alone in a crowded world. I felt like the rest of Hobart was cowered inside their houses scared to come out and play in this wonderland of water and warmth. I felt alive.
It rained pretty much on and off all night and, timing my bolt to work terribly, just after I set off to work this morning, the heavens opened and within moments I was drenched.
As I rode down from near the top of Mt Nelson, water penetrated by clothes and shoes from above and below. My tyres threw so much water in my face I was almost blinded, and the fear of sliding off as I went through puddles was ever present.
A car went past, just missing drenching me as it went through a blocked drain too rushed to slow down, but all I could do was smile and sing. Yep, I bounced and bopped around on my bike as happy as I could be. It was raining, I was drenched, and god darn it, it felt great.
Bring on the summer rain.
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