When backpacking across Philmont, one frequently encounters rain -- or worse. Sometimes you stop and put up a fly. Sometimes you just throw on your raingear and pack covers and slog on. If you're going to be stopped by a little rain, then you'll never become native to the wilderness. I tell people that the object of our form of camping, and of our way of backpacking, is to reach out and touch the edge of the raw. You can't do that cowering in a tent.
And, of course, the adults are the hardest to teach. We may have a new Dad along this weekend, who probably thinks he knows how to go camping. Pray for me.