Last night's rain was so ferociously heavy, when Jackie and Jillie came back into the house no amount of towelling down dried them adequately. So they were tucked into bed like moist little parcels of sleepy-headed puppyhood and soon fell fast asleep. We felt fortunate we had been able to get out yesterday for our usual afternoon circuit. It wasn't quite as hot yesterday as today has turned out to be, and we wore light rainjackets against the prospect of a heavy downpour catching us in the forest.

That didn't happen. Instead light rain persisted, so light it hardly made an impact on us, thanks to the forest canopy. Strangely enough, an hour after our return home the sun came out to say hello, inviting us to sit out on the deck in the backyard and just relax. We did that and then suddenly rain returned heavily pounding on the metal canopy of the deck. We remained where we were, comfortable and dry, rain falling all around us, though the light dimmed somewhat for reading.

It was later, in the evening hours that serious rain ensued. Which kept our usual little visitors, the family of raccoons, at home rather than converging on the porch for peanuts. And which led much later to Jackie and Jillie being taken out in that deluge for before-sleep micturition. Don't know what that means? Neither did I, many many years ago when a doctor suggested I do just that before a physical examination. 

So today, according to the weather forecast, would give us both rain and sun. But a hotter day, though just as humid as yesterday. When we were out this afternoon for our traipse through the forest trails it didn't seem likely rain was in the offing. We enjoyed a tranquil, but warm hike. When it's so hot and humid Jackie and Jillie tend to slow down, too. Lots to see here and there alongside the trails, so the more regulated the pace, the more is noticed. Though at the height of the sunflower I saw with the green bottle fly on it, Jackie and Jillie would have missed the little spectacle.

We met up with a young man in his 30s whom we've known as a regular hiker for years now. He had a bit of an 'adventure' story for us. He's in good shape, healthy as young active men are wont to be, and very talkative. Last week, he said, he had just started out on a ravine  hike and it was as far as he got that day, ten minutes into his adventure. He tends to walk at a good pace and he looks for physical challenges. He knows very well that beside the trail he chose is another one, much more gradual in its descent, off the main trail into the ravine.

The 'alternate' trail he chose is one we studiously avoid ever since I slipped on it one evening about three years ago, and was badly injured. It's taken me all these years since for my injury to heal enabling me to use my right arm fully finally, and not feel any discomfort in my chest wall, pain in my shoulder and arm. And just where I slipped ascending that trail is where our young man slid and fell descending it. He found himself in a split second on the ground on his back in an awkward position, with his right shoulder shooting fiery pain.

He called out for help, and there was a response. We can often go for an hour, hour-and-a-half through the trails without seeing another soul. He was both unfortunate and lucky, when two of our old hiking friends responded to his call for help, and called for an ambulance because he was no longer fully ambulatory and in so much pain and confusion over how serious his injury was. When the paramedics arrived (after a confusing search for the exact spot where he lay) they examined him, got him on a gurney and took him to the nearest hospital's emergency department.

There he was X-rayed, and informed that he had suffered a shoulder separation. A sling was fitted for him, he was discharged and a few days later he saw a specialist who informed him he was healing nicely. And now he has 90 percent of his shoulder function back to normal. And he will, in future, avoid that trail.

After my own accident I had informed the parks department of the municipality that the original trail they had closed off for fear of the bank of the creek eroding and disintegrating into the waterway being hastened by foot traffic, was a disaster. It was poorly engineered and every time there was rain, it became a conduit for the rain, and the Leda clay turned into a watery muck trap. We had seen quite a few people slip and fall there, before and after my own fall. The original trail had been fenced off from further use. It's open now. They put down gravel to give some stability to the side trail but it was so poorly done that it just washed away.