I’ve been reading the forecasts wrong. At home, every morning I would check the forecast before taking Scout out, to gauge the appropriate attire for the walk. I would focus only on the temperature, and in the dead of winter and height of summer, would also check the wind chill and humidex respectively.
But since I’ve arrived in Orkney, the temperature hasn’t exceeded 13°C or dropped below 8°, and yet, how I feel on any given day can vary widely. I’ve figured it out: the number that matters isn’t the temperature, but rather the wind speed. It can be a balmy 11° out, but if that wind is coming in from across the North Atlantic at 40km/h, you feel it, and you’d better have sweater, windbreaker, scarf, and hat on. On the other hand, 9° with no wind requires only a light fleece for a lovely walk around town.
The wildest weather so far was a couple of weekends ago. I opened the curtains in the morning to absolute sheets of rain drilling into the windows, and the rose bushes in the garden leaning at a 45 degree angle. The forecast advised winds of 35mph and gusts up to 60mph. Sixty miles per hour. That’s 100 km/h or the speed limit on the 401. For 36 hours that’s what we had – wind & rain that just wouldn’t stop. And Scout loved it – we went for our usual walks (well, who am I kidding – abbreviated walks) and she was in heaven. I was head to toe in rain gear and the temperature really wasn’t bad, so I didn’t mind it either. But she absolutely revelled in it.