It must have been the influence of Squamish that built up the endurance in me to stay throughout the rains. The granite was similar, talused, sloping with crimps situated randomly. The dense forest surrounding the boulders was tall, green and hid us from the outside world. Even the water from the old wooden bathtub with a sign above it saying non-potable, tasted just as good as the water springing from any of the fine household faucets in the sea to sky corridor. And of course the rain. I knew it would stop eventually. It fell upon and touched all of the rocks, drowning the moss so that they …