Raindog Café

Rain, rain, rain. The fourth consecutive day of rain. Bucketing down. Not the best time to stay in a wooden hut beside a great big lake. Nor is it the best time to get canoes and go canoing on said lake. But that's precisely what we did.
The first half hour was grand. But then. But then. Jesus Christ! The rain would have sent Noah scurrying for cover. Half an hour from home, we waited for about an hour under a shelter waiting for it to pass. It didn't. Eventually we just had to go on. We paddled towards the town of Río Dulce. The rain kept spilling. Water under the canoe, water over the canoe, beside it, outside it, in it - it was fucking everywhere!!! We eventually dragged our sorry wet arses into the town and tried to dry out.
In the shelter of the Sundog Café, we attempted to sit out the downpour and dry ourselves. Even the Sundog had no power over the Raindog however. That beast's barks are torrential.
We waited, and waited, and waited some more. We knew we couldn't stay forever however. We were still soaking wet from our first drowned rat experience, and the shivers were starting the bite. The gloom was getting gloomier too, as dusk threatened to approach.
We gave up. We had to get home. We paddled once again through the torrents, slow painstaking progress, inch by inch making our way over the lake back to the sanctuary of the Casa.
Ages later, arms, legs, arses and nerves frayed, we finally pulled up beside the jetty. We had made it! As soon as we did, of course, the rain stopped.


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