Wet, Wet, Wet

Mount Hua, near Xi'an, China

The first time was going up. The heat was sweltering. Maybe that was an omen, an indication what was to come. I met a friendly Australian and another French guy. Had they checked the weather forecast? I had forgotten. So had they. The clouds were thick and didn't bode well.
Trying to be optimistic we started the ascent. We sweated a lot. I actually used up most of my water on the first half of this stage. We pitied the workers who had to carry supplies up the mountain to the hotels and shops. Some of them had badly bent or hunched backs. They probably do this every single day.
We continued on until after dark. By the time we reached the first guesthouse my shirt was only a wet rag. Tired I still managed to haggle the price down by a third. Then we heard the news: the forecast said rain for the next day. Now having lived in England and Wales I was prepared to take this with a pinch of salt. I'm used to it raining at any time without much warning - the world has climate, England has weather.
But here, in the heart of China, it turns out that forecasts are quite reliable. When we woke up before dawn it was raining steadily. Crap! I hadn't brought anything remotely weather-proof. Don't bother climbing the peak now, the hotel staff told us, you won't see a sunrise today. Early risers or late climbers were already coming down from the peak, drenched and discouraged. Among them was another French guy. Damn, half of France was out here! He told us how slippery it was. We gave up our plan and went back to bed.
Later that morning the other two decided to join the second French guy on the way down. They would not climb the peak. Not me. I wasn't going to give up now - weather against me or whatever. So, I bade them farewell, bought a crappy, completely overpriced rain poncho and set off on stage two. The poncho didn't do much good. If the rain didn't get in I started sweating under the cheap rubber. The outcome was roughly similar. The climb wasn't easy - at times I was really worried I'd just slip clean off the wet rock face and into uncertain depths. Technically, there were not even many views to be seen. Still, the mountain shrouded in clouds as it was had something mysterious about it. After all, this is one of the holy Taoist mountains. Rain and fog normally indicate the presence of a dragon. And up here with the mists drifting in and out of view between the peaks and trees I was prepared to believe it. Besides, the peak is my highest one yet: 2135 meters. I'm happy that I didn't miss that chance.