Then I realize this is no dream. It's September, I'm in the Sierras, and I'm hunting boletes with my friend Yutaka Wada. Fungal obsession has led me once again to the realm of the bizarre. A friend of mine reported seeing a few boletes there the previous weekend, which is enough to send me into paroxysms of optimism. As we turn out of the central valley and start climbing into the Sierras, we ascend straight into a thick fog bank that quickly turns into rain showers.
Rain showers turn to steady rain, which turns to a downpour.
But we've got lots more climbing left to do. At around 7000 feet, I note with alarm that the car thermometer reads 34 degrees. It's curiously crowded with traffic on roads that I'm used to seeing deserted in the spring morel season. And these guys aren't going to let a little rain stop them. Well, neither are we.