You probably should've died," the husky, walrus-mustached U.S. Forest Service worker told me that balmy July evening. It was 2015, the height of the last so-called drought that never really ended on California's Central Coast. And the animals, myself included, were restless. One long summer after another, interrupted by brief winters that brought only sputters of rain and drizzle for the state's mountains, valleys, rivers, and reservoirs, had cooked us in that kiln known as the Central Valley.