Roaming in the Rain Desert

The trade winds come right up the slope here and every 45 minutes or so we have to stop and cover up as a line of squalls drenches us with rain. Despite all the precipitation there’s absolutely no surface water whatsoever. Not even puddles. It just pours through the lava like a sieve. When the sun comes out the dark lava heats up like a grill. Nothing grows, except for a few scattered dwarf ferns and other odd individual small plants. There’s something inherently wrong with being continually soaked to the skin and parched with thirst at the same time. Never has it been so dry being wet. Welcome to the rain desert.

Photo circa 2005.