This is why we found ourselves on the top of Mt Diablo in zero visability, gale force wind-driven rain lashing horizontally against us. El Nino always had an exotic ring to it...until you're actually stood underneath.
Even the park rangers called in sick, and the entrance fee was a do-it-yourself affair with an envelope and a box. Which, of course, we did honestly (there's that guilt again). $10 for an hour of soaked misery is really quite a bargain.
In the interests of full disclosure, I admit I sat in the car while Hannah and Rachel wrapped up and headed out. Vince had asked me to read his grad school admission essay, and was up against a deadline. What was I supposed to do?
The girls showed impressive stamina in braving the elements for nearly 45 minutes. They returned from their "chod" (as brother John has fittingly christened these outings) completely sodden but still claiming ridiculous health and enjoyment benefits. It's amazing how far parental influence can extend.
Rachel - resigned.
Hannah - unimpressed.
But all smiles underneath!
