A damp heavy fog continued to blanket the mountain. A light rain mixed with the already wet air. Walking around camp, I debated laying down in a puddle just so I could experience all three types of wet.
Wet as it was Mt. LeConte, the island in the sky, was as beautiful as ever. Hazy white heavens blended well with the saturated features below. I wandered around until I had experienced enough wet for the time being…
Finding shelter from the elements, I burrowed into a book.
“Rain, whose soft architectural hands have power to cut stones, and chisel to shapes of grandeur the very mountains." - Henry Ward Beecher