As a hiker, rain torments me.

The mere mention of rain in the forecast usually has me scurrying for the remote control, rather than the trails.

Rain is miserable. Cold, damp weather penetrates to your bones and saps your body heat.

And regardless of what you wear, you’re going to get wet anyway. You can try sealing yourself up in waterproof rain gear, but don’t buy that whole “breathable” myth. I’ve yet to find the jacket that doesn’t become a steam bath when I’m moving at top speed.

And rain is so insidious, it seeks out any gap in your defenses, taking any chance to trickle down your neck and send shivers down your spine.

Sure, I get the whole April shower-May flower connection and I’m happy not to have to turn on the sprinklers at home. But I’m a fair-weather hiker to the core.

So you can imagine the past few weeks of persistent precipitation have been trying for me.

That said, a three-day weekend just cries out for some outdoor recreating. So despite a threat of rain, I pulled out the dog-eared guidebooks and scoured the pages for a hike I hadn’t done before and that wasn’t going to be snowed in. With blind optimism outweighing the 30 percent chance of rain, I packed up the car and headed for Rooster Rock.

The hike is on the far side of Santiam Pass, about 20 miles east of Sweet Home. But while the weather looked promising when I left, it started to drizzle as I crossed the mountains and by the time I pulled up to the trailhead, it was pouring. I sat in the muddy lot weighing $4-per-gallon gas against the prospects of hiking in the rain before finally deciding I’d rather waste the $20 in gas money by returning another day than be wet and miserable.

Still, I figured my editors wouldn’t be too happy with a blank page today or the launch of a “Draw Your Own Topo Map” contest in this space. So I gathered up my meteorological optimism again Monday and set off over the pass.

Despite a brief drizzle en route, the sky was dry when I arrived. There are two standard routes up to Rooster Rock. The Trout Creek Trail climbs the 2,300 feet to the rocky outcropping in 3.3 miles. The Rooster Rock Trail accomplishes the same feat in about 2 miles. Many hiking partners hike up one trail and down the other, leaving a car at each trailhead.

I parked at the Trout Creek Trail and after filling out my self-issue permit, started up the trail. Down low, the trail can get muddy, but eventually, there’s enough pine tree debris to keep the full-on mud puddles at bay. The trail climbs steadily, but at a fairly easy grade for the first two miles through towering Douglas Fir. At about 2.8 miles, the verdant trail meets up with the Rooster Rock Trail, and continues on for a steep half-mile to a rocky viewpoint. Just before the top, the trail passes the Rooster Rock spire. (Let’s just say, you might need a healthy imagination to see a rooster in that spire.)

As I approached the top, a group of trail runners passed me. Clad in only shorts and singlets, with just water bottles in hand, they were planning on climbing to the summit rocks four times: up Trout Creek Trail to the top, down and back up on Rooster Rock Trail, then returning via Trout Creek again. And then they’d repeat it. If successful, they’d log some 9,000 feet in elevation gain and nearly 20 miles of trail.

The runners departed the rocky knoll just after my arrival, leaving the summit to me alone. It started to drizzle, but after working up a sweat on the uphill, I really didn’t mind. It did, however, hinder the view.

Rooster Rock is in the Menagerie Wilderness, and when the weather is clear, it provides a viewpoint of some of the region’s more famous pillars — Rabbit Ears, Turkey Monster, Chicken Rock.

The descent was a little trickier than the ascent, due to the wet conditions. I gingerly worked my way back down to the trail intersection and proceeded down the Rooster Rock Trail. Both trails are well-maintained and easy to follow. Neither, however, has much in the way of switchbacks to lessen the grade.

Eventually I ran into the trail runners again. They had tagged the trailhead sign at the bottom and were working their way back up to the top.

It’s about 2.6 miles between the trailheads along U.S. Highway 20 and mostly downhill. Since I drove alone, I had stashed a bike and a helmet at the Rooster Rock trailhead on my way in. It was a glorious way to end the hike, pedaling down the blacktop feeling like I had somehow beat the system. There’s little to no shoulder along that section of the highway, and at one point I had to swerve to avoid a deer carcass. But it’s a pleasant 10- to 15-minute ride. As long as it’s not raining.

If you go

Getting there: Drive West on U.S. Highway 20 toward Sweet Home. The trailhead for Rooster Rock is just before mile marker 51, and the pull-out for the Trout Creek Trail is just past marker 49.

Difficulty: Difficult

Cost: Free self-issue permit at trailhead. No parking pass required.

Contact: Willamette National Forest, Springfield, 541-225-6300