As I've touched on before, there's a certain level of masochism inherent to travel. Sometimes the payoff isn't quite worth the suffering (like a minivan driver with a death wish) but other times, even hobbling along with rocks jabbing the soles of your feet, face down against the perpetual onslaught of drizzle, the pain is worth the gain.

When I did my trek in Sapa, I was blessed with gorgeous weather. The violent thunderstorms that passed over during the night gave way to sunny skies that lit up the rice paddies and warm sun that dried the wet paths. When I read in my Lonely Planet that most people skip the trekking routes during monsoon season, I thought I'd just get to Kalaw and suss out the scene. No one at the trekking office seemed particularly concerned about any upcoming rain, and all things considered, other than being unpleasant it wasn't totally unmanageable. What made it unmanageable was my lack of preparation, namely lack of appropriate footwear.