When I emerged from Garapito Canyon my shoes, socks, shorts and shirt were soaking wet. A group of hikers were nearby and one asked if it rained while I was down in the canyon. It hadn’t, but it might as well have.
Our wetter than normal rain season has produced a lush crop of annual grasses — some as tall as waist high — that have overgrown sections of many local trails.
Overnight, light rain had coated every blade of grass and every leaf and limb of brush along the Garapito Trail with water droplets. Running through the wet grass was like passing through the wet brushes of a refrigerated car wash.
I happened to be wearing Gortex-lined running shoes, which was laughable considering the amount of water that had run down my legs and into the shoes. They were just as wet as if I had waded through a creek. Well-fitting gaiters might have helped, and at least would have kept the foxtails out of my saturated socks.