ACA Great Parks North errata

Map 6:

SB A: "Turn left and merge onto TC1" should be "turn right"

SB B: "Bear left onto exit ramp" should be "bear right"

Protection Mountain Campground is closed.

Columbia Icefield Campground and Wilcox Campground aren't named on the Map:
http://goo.gl/xQ8YXn

Great Parks North cast of characters

Jasper bike tourists

These were the first folks we ran into who were also multi-day riding. We spoke to them at Sunwapta Falls briefly. They were being supported by a van. Curiously, they lived in Jasper, which is almost purely a resort/tourist town. 

They were pretty senior and very quick to pass on the road. Time makes weaklings of us all. 

Travis

Staff at the sporting goods store in Lake Louise who sold me a 350mm 27.2 seatpost that I needed and talked to Matt interminably and enthusiastically about astrophotography locations, oblivious to how little time we could spare to get to these locations, all the while Matt nodded along. 

Banff camp neighbors

Leading into Banff, we were struggling to light our large solid logs on fire, thanks to the regular showerings they were getting in the exposed log pits features at Canadian campgrounds. At Banff, we asked our neighbors for a hatchet to split open our logs. They not only loaned is the hatchet, but also kindly dropped off plenty of their own dry firewood. Another neighbor saw us setting up and walked over with a blowtorch to start the fire. His quip: "I know we've all been in Scouts, but we don't have to do [starting from tinder] out here."

Continental Divide riders

We met two groups of mountain bikers doing the ACA Continental Divide trail route from Canada to Mexico.
The first was a trio of Brits, all with very nicely appointed gear. They'd been planning their trip for as long as T1P had, and were 200mi in (to our ~400 at that point). I noticed that the girl had her bear mace holstered to her hip. I think they were shooting for ~50mi a day.

The second trio were two Americans and an Austrian (?). Ralf had started all the way up in Anchorage, and was going to Patagonia! On top of that, his equipment was decidedly less modern (though likely no less rugged), probably done to a budget.

French touring couple 

We ran into these two in BC on the backroads. Their English was somewhat limited, so it wasn't clear where they were headed or what their schedule was. We had that moment where we all stood and looked out at the scenery and nodded in wordless appreciation at the view.
They were going pretty slowly on the road, so we assumed that that was the last we'd see of them. But when we got to Glacier National Park a few days later, we saw them again, mysteriously riding the other way, back north! We had one shot to ask them what was up, but it was a pretty minor mystery.

Greg

A very generous neighbor at Island Lake Recreational Area, by Magic Island. Gabe went up to him to ask for some water, since he wasn't keen on drinking the chemically-treated stuff. Greg gave us freen reign to his big bottled water supply and chatted about the camp. Greg was traveling with his wife and dog, fly fishing at the lake. He was quite curious about our trip and even asked how he could follow our progress. We gave him some blog links and a copy of the zine. 

Harold the Lion Hunter

As we were riding through Montana ranch country, a Mustang convertible with the plate MYLION drove by us. I thought it was a Delicate Arch Utah license plate, so figured it was some sort of Mormon reference.
Later, we ran into the car and its occupants at our lunch stop in Babb. The driver was quite gregarious and chatted Gabe up quite a while. The conversational covered our previous trip to South Africa. The man said he'd gone four times to ZA. Later, he said something like, "you're really into biking, I'm a big hunter." It's easy to imagine, without any confirmation, that Harold had gone back to SA a few times to hunt big game.

Jack

A dyed in the wool outdoorsman whom we ran into outside the restaurant in Babb. He had a lot of respect for us putting the miles on bikes out on the road, and asked us about our gear setup, particularly its waterproof properties. I took him as an archetype of the kind of person who enjoys life in Montana, someone who relishes the Big Sky Country.
We'd later meet other folks who had that modern day cowboy vibe, but Jack was definitely the first.

California Dani

Right after we rolled past the US border crossing and were regathering to push on, this girl broke from her hiking group to ask us about our ride, clearly in the know about what bike touring was. She was on a short break from her solo Minneapolis to Seattle ride. Of all the folks we talked to, she was by far the most excited and impressed by the zine when I handed her a copy. Her whole excited outdoorsy demeanor and big time tan gave me the impression that she was from California, so Dani was the handle I gave her.
After she followed us our tour account on Instagram (cued by the zine, of course), we found out her name was Erica.

Vocab from the tour

An endeavor that is so heavily dependent on eating and replenishment necessarily countenances scatological matters, as David Foster Wallace would elliptically put it. And for bluntly addressing those here, I apologize and don't apologize. 

D-ing out

Deucing out, dumping out, etc. A new one I learned: I've got a big brown dog barking at my back door. 

Word-y word-y terms

Knifey-forky

Each day, as we planned which places we would be eating lunch, we'd hunt on our route map for the upcoming restaurants, marked by a knife and fork symbol. At some point, we started calling a restaurant a knifey-forky for our own amusement. This was the catalyst for attempting to coin all the other word-y word-y terms. 

Bitey-munchy

Eating. 

Sunsy-screensy

Grunty-squeezy

Dumping out

The brick just got bigger

A play on Mr. Trump's insistence on walls. The first half of our ACA route map featured high-resolution GPS data delineating the elevation of the route, so we anticipated with high accuracy the difficulty of each day's riding, at least with regards to climbing. The second half of the maps were published in 2012 without the detailed elevation, but instead with far more impressionistic elevation profiles, perhaps drawn by someone from memory after riding the route. We frequently ran into harder climbing or unmarked hills. As these incidents wore on, I swore that I would put my GPS device's ride recording onto a USB key and tape it to a brick, and then throw that brick through the ACA's headquarters' windows in Missoula. On every subsequent bad profile incident, I'd curse, "the brick just got bigger."

Two-a-days

You're eating so much that you have to dump out a lot.

Raging

Returning from the last tour, this is whenever you have steady downhill stretches where you don't need to pedal or even need to brake, or plain riding fast.

8/18: 50mi more into Missoula

We're here now. In Missoula. Or L, as the hillside sign suggests:

The riding is over. Soon, we'll hop on planes and go back to our regular lives. I'm extremely fortunate that I'm looking forward to it. Still need to digest and write up my fancy musings on this tour. 

The iridium nib

When I went back China as a teen, I was (as I am now) so crudely materialistic. On a whim, I asked if I could get a fancy fountain pen. One of my mom's college classmates secured one for me and extolled the pen's iridium nib. Iridium is a very rare element on earth; the bulk of it is dropped off by metallic meteorites. It's chosen for its durability and resistance to corrosion. I thought that by having a nice fountain pen, I would be able to write a lot and become a better writer. But I used the pen once or twice. It was certainly not my entree into the world of writing. In reality, any talent I've gained as a writer have been earned through sheer mechanical output. 

A bike tour doesn't begin and end with the bike. You need a bike*, certainly, but having one doesn't make you a bicycle tourist. To become a better writer, you have to pick up the pen (any pen at first, really) and write write write write, no matter what else is going on, no matter how you feel, with no regard to how much or little you're putting out. 

To be a bike tourist, you have to get on the bike day after day, grinding down the miles to your destination. It's not about the bike; it's about the number of times you crank the pedals. About whether you will keep going when you're alternately drenched by rain and your own sweat, when you have to pedal downhill against the wind, when end of the day is some unknown point beyond the horizon. 

*I won't mince words -- it's a privilege to have the money and time to go on a multi week bike tour. Inflating my own ego about what I'm capable of is fine, but I know that this was still all just a paid vacation for my own amusement. 

8/17: 50mi in 80F

Woke up late in the yurt. This morning's 29mi was some of the least interesting and scenic riding we've done. The afternoon's 26 was really no different. Only a small part of my indifference is from the pending end of the tour. Most of it is because we have truly seen more varied and beautiful landscapes come in the preceding days.

Bike touring in the heat is quite an aromatic experience, and not in the strictly grossest sense. On my huffin breath I can smell chocolate and bananas from dinners and breakfasts past. Wafting off my jersey I can smell the accumulated smoke of by now countless camp fires. On my skin I can smell the sheeny sweet glaze of sunscreen. To say "I smell bad" would be like kneeling down to your dog and saying, "hey pup, I smell something."

I have one last clean set of jersey and shorts to don tomorrow, and one more leg to ride into Missoula, the endpoint of months of planning and weeks of riding. 

8/16: Bigfork, Ferndale, Swan Lake

48mi today. Pretty flat, but in dry mid-90s heat. It's a new challenging condition. 

Swan Lake is a big recreational lake, with lots of jet-skis and inner tubers out there having a good (and cool) time. 

We're cashing in on a long held dream from last tour -- staying in a yurt. This private campground charges just a little more for the yurt than for pitching tents, so we went for it:

The campground has a small pond with a tiny island:

With a paddle boat:

It's so hot that it takes all I have to do more than just sit and try to cool off via sweating. 

If one other thing is apparent, it's that were no longer in bear country. All the bins in this camp are just normal trash cans with no regard for thieving raccoons and marauding bears. There was a llama farm at some point. 

Just over 100mi til we stop in Missoula. It's definitely on our minds -- the end. We have to wrap this trip up logistically, physically, and mentally. 

8/15: Logan Pass, the big descent, West Glacier, Columbia Falls

Got up bright and early at 6:30, and thanks to a brisk packup schedule, got going just past 7:30. This 2000ft climb was the biggest single climb of our tour. The rest day helped get some energy in our legs, but more than anything, the climb had a reasonably gentle grade. The easier pace afforded us plenty of time to admire the truly beautiful scenic views on the Going to the Sun Road, which we later learned was a civic project that took over 23 years to complete. With one quick rest, we got to the top around 9:30. There was park staff along the road near the top performing some transom analysis of plant life -- that was neat to see. 

After our break at the peak's visitor center, we committed to taking the biggest descent of the tour, 3000ft over some 11mi. It was dangerous, but I kept my wits about me and got down fine. Have video that I'll post later. 

Waited over 30min for Gabe and Matt to come down. Gabe got another flat shortly into the descent, which took the bulk of that out of touch time. We missed the bicycles-allowed time after the descent and took a relaxed lunch at Lake MacDonald Lodge inside the park. lake MacDonald is huge, which a little tour boat to take you around.

After an afternoon of playing games in the shade, we saddled up for the remaining 25mi or so as the bicycle ban was lifted from our route. 

We ran a short downhill gravel section that was really fun for me. I specifically bought the tires on my bike for gravel, and they did their job. 

The landscape became less national park wilderness and more rural, though still beautiful. 

Now we're holed up at a hotel taking a nice break. Dinner at Three Forks Grille was tremendous. The Three Forks are a river confluence, not referring to dining forks. Their yam fries and grilled quail was a great opener. 

My bison scalopini hit the Italian notes perfectly with its mushroom and marsala sauce, and Gabe's seafood linguini delivered rich clam flavor in spades on top of just right pasta. An extremely happy surprise find in a town of less than 5,000. 

For the remaining three riding days, we'll average just over 50mi, which is a nice reduction of workload from the past week. I'll try to dial down my eating accordingly, but no promisies. 

8/14: rest day at Rising Sun

Woke up tired but relaxed, knowing it would be a rest day. No tent to pack, no cycling clothes to sausage-stuff my body into. 

We'll probably keep strenuous activity to a minimum, taking a bus back to St. Mary at the entrance of the park, getting lunch and food for dinner. 

I find that I'm more productive with blogging when I'm offline. With no distractions or news to catch up on, the words come out more readily and fluidly.

Went out to the lake and enjoyed the lapping waters for a bit:

They say that high level athletes have trouble doing deliberate rest. Not a problem for me. I can intentionally rest, soaking in the sun's rays languidly on the shore. In fact, everywhere I went today, the default was to sit down and take pains to be resting. My legs, my back, my arms. I want to be 100% charged for tomorrow.

We then waited around forever for a shuttle to take us the 5mi back to St. Mary, where we had another competent lunch. 

There was in TV in there playing the Olympics. There was no such thing in the visitor center at our Rising Sun camp. Actually, the spectacle and competition of the Olympics is something I do miss out here on tour. 

We shopped and brought food back only to run into a quick rain shower, for which we ducked into our tents for an hour. When we emerged like Columbia ground squirrels, the whole place was dry like nothing'd happened. 

The visitor center indeed didn't have a TV showing Usain Bolt in the 100m sprint, if indeed he made it to the finals. 

So now I sit not knowing the results and not want to be spoiled. 

We'll go to sleep early tonight and wake at 6:30 to hit the big climb of our trip. There's extra pressure from part of the road in GNP being closed between 11-4 because of heavy traffic. We will build no fire. 

Yeti mythos

- Yetis are the same species as Sasquatches; besides fur color, they differ by where they live and social habits

- Yetis are carnivorous but do not eat humans

- Yetis and humans have a long history of contesting the same environments and resources. That is the basis of the longstanding hatred yetis have for humanity 

- Yetis live in those high bowl shaped valleys to stay out of the way from an ever-encroaching human presence

- Yetis are incredibly strong and can throw boulders many times their own size. In fact, this is their primary form of attack: to gain high ground on their enemy (typically humans) and hurl down boulders, which destroy everything in their path, humans, trees, or whatever. Many rockslides are actually yeti attacks

- Yetis were betrayed at the Meeting at the Birches, where humans surrounded them under the pretense of a peace negotiation and burned hundreds of yetis:

This solidified their hatred of humans

- Yetis eliminated the last of the North American Neanderthals on this glacier, forcing them over the edge:

This destruction was so final that you've not heard of the North American Neanderthal. 

To Crush a Dragonfly

Riding on the shoulders, you get to see whatever has landed on the wayside. Most rocks and grit, but sometimes a dead bird or animal. In particular, lots of locusts and even dragonflies. The locusts are sometimes live and leap away from the certain doom of my rolling tire at the last second. 

The dragonflies are all dead. I think the heat from the road exhausts them, based on seeing dragonflies perish in my garage in the summers of my youth. 

I wonder how much our road infrastructure actually contributes to dragonfly mortality. 

8/13: CA-US Border, Glacier National Park

Really feeling it in the morning today. After some more inspection, it seems that today might actually be harder overall than tomorrow. We'll see.

After another laundry wash for all our clothes, my jacket pocket is no longer chocolaty. 

Confirming our suspicions yesterday, the 2012 edition map's elevation profile is inaccurate to the point of being misleading. The first climb was about as expected, but things got out of sync after that. We knew it would be hard, so mustered the energy to make the second climb to the US border gate. A very straightforward display of passport and basic questions and we were off. 

To be honest, I got tremendous satisfaction from returning to the United States. The border agent had a distinctly western American accent. The trees and birds might be the same, but this was still a different country to my heart. 

A bumpy 18mi over ranch country, full of cow pats and wandering cows, got us to lunch at Cattle Baron / Bunk House:

I managed to cash in on my cravewave for a steak sandwich. It really hit the spot, at once greasy and gristly. The restaurant was extremely proud of both its German and Blackfoot heritage, and set out placemats describing the owner family's history. These mixed some interesting worldviews that could be charitably described as quaint. 

A hard 15 more miles (headwinds and unmarked climbs slowing is down) got us to our humble hiker/biker campsite in the Rising Sun campground inside Glacier National Park. 

After a culinarily ambitious dinner at the Rising Sun Motel and Restaurant, we've decided to take the rest day here tomorrow. You might see this post much later because, sadly, there's no signal coverage in this part of GNP. In the northern stretches, we still had Canadian Rogers signal. 

It bears emphasizing how much of a physical endeavor bike touring is. I certainly mention whether days are hard or easy, but on the whole, riding days in aggregate are definitely hard. They wear you down and make you consider your route and planned miles more and more closely. Finally, you throw up your hands and say that you can ride no further without pushing yourself over some limit of safety and physical wellbeing. 

Cycling jersey pockets

For as long as I've had cycling jerseys with the pockets in the back, 

I've kept the phone in the right pocket, for quick pictures, the wallet and tools in the center pocket, which is least accessed, and snacks in the left pocket. It's never occurred to me to mix it up.

In the mornings, there's a little ritual where each pocket is filled up from wherever these items live overnight. 

8/12: Crowsnest Pass, Beaver Mines, Pincher Creek, Twin Butte, Waterton Park

It's resolved - we're going to ride 3 more days and then take a rest. Today and tomorrow will be moderate; Sunday will be very hard, with the longest climb (and descent) of the tour. Still not feeling 100% refreshed in the mornings. Could use a hotel night between having showers and ability to was clothes and electricity to charge up devices. That part is up in the air. Matt has the least tolerance for staying in hotels for various reasons and is always campaigning against them in his usual way. 

This morning, our neighbor recommended a place to eat breakfast, well, cinnabuns, at the first town we'd hit.   When we got there, we decided to stop, and sure enough, the neighbor was also there! I wonder how he would have felt if we'd pedaled on as he drove in?

The landscape has really changed. I feel like I'm in the midst of turn of the century cowboy tales. It's natural to sing Home on the Range.  

Although the landscape looks flatter, there's still endless up and down hills to crest. At least all rain in the area passed by in front of us. We decided to stretch our mileage to reach a camp that had showers (and by extension, running water). This campground is full, but the operator let us use a spot for a season camper who's not here. 

An extra 8mi to get here plus a navigation gaff courtesy of Gabe nets out at 77mi. The afternoon and its series of hard (for me) climbs felt endless. 

When we reached the tiny incorporation of Twin Butte, we saw a country diner where half the patrons had on cowboy hats and shirts. We really wanted to get dinner there, but still had to make camp just under an hour away. That's the thing with bike touring, you either do it now or say goodbye forever. 

Tomorrow, by the apparently inaccurate 2nd map for our tour route, promises to be extremely hard, with multiple climbs. I'm not sure how I'll feel in the morning, but we'll manage. 

Random thoughts from the road

Inspired by the lists in Infinite Jest, something I've been reading at night when I'm not too tired to fall asleep right away. 

That the Spanish word for socks is calcetines. 

That my one coworker who was positive that the other coworker who shared a lot of intense conversations was romantically interested was absolutely and tragically mistaken. 

That The Magnetic Fields are known for the distinctive deep vocals of their male lead, but I first learned about them (the band, not the vocals) from the song Washington DC, which has a guest female singer. 

That the US Parks Service really put a lot of effort into their uniform, whereas park staff in Canada seem more casual and less frequent in making rounds. 

That winds pick up in the afternoon for whatever geophysical reason. 

That SPANAKOPITA and STANKTOPIA are sadly not anagrams. 

That pickups with Leer truck bed caps prompt me to read it as the Spanish verb 'to read.'

That a mother engrossed by My Story by Elizabeth Smart might yet take years to impart the wisdom received from that book upon her four year old. 

8/11: Elko, Fernie, Sparwood

Woke up pretty tired in my bones. Well, it's obviously my muscles, but the figure of speech rings true. We always feel fresher and want to push more on the road. But in the mornings, there's more concern that we can't keep this pace up. The delay with the baggage means we lost our two buffer days, one of which we'd like to make up on the road. 

Average 48mi over the next 7 days without a rest day or 57mi with a rest day. Rest day seems totally viable, but we need to pick the right place for maximal downtime enjoyment. 

I have a chocolaty pocket. I didn't finish eating a bar on the road and put it in my jacket and promptly forgot about it. Then all my stuff -- phone, wallet, Kindle -- all got chocolate on them. How? Eventually I solved their riddle, but now I'm afraid to of getting other things chocolaty if I put them in that pocket. 

We got lunch at Fernie and then headed out of town only to see a huge road construction project going on. They just let us go through in our direction before switching to let the other side through. Even so, traffic was backed up for 6mi or so, with no traffic coming behind us until maybe 50min later. It was nice to have the highway to ourselves. 

Saw the world's largest truck:

Was pretty excited to run into that. 

Then we rode into our camp, which was right next to this spit of land that was almost an island from the isthmus of the road:

Seeing that island and deciding to explore it brought out a real sense of childlike adventure. 

Matt took a brisk bath in the lake water. I topped off my water bottles there and had Matt run the water purification chemicals on that water. So far so good. 

Loons

There are a few loons on North Star Lake here. We thought they were ducks from a distance, but then they did that distinctive takeoff involving slapping wings on the water. Look it up. 

I'd read as a kid that loons' feet are so rearward that they can't walk well on land. Hence, they're completely adapted to living on the water. When they want to move quickly, instead of paddling, they flap on the water and scoot over. 

They dive down and reemerge somewhere else. 

They have two calls that we've heard:

- a cartoony rapid ha-ah-ah-ah-ah that go on

- a dove like keening call that sometimes precedes takeoff

Bears and other animals spotted

1. Billy: lazy black bear browsing berries just outside Wabasso camp

2. Bobbi: young skinny grizzly just off the shoulder as we were climbing the road

3. Bernice: black bear at the start of Bow Valley Parkway

4. Bubba: large grizzly moving around the camp where we wanted to stay but was full

5. Barry: small black bear that ran across the highway in front of us as we rode 

Other animals:

- Bighorn sheep

- mountain goats 

- coyote

- deer

Songs sung (in fragments I can remember) on the road:

- When The Open Road Is Closing In

- Sunset City

- California (callback to last tour)

- Dawson's Creek theme song

- I Took a Pill in Ibiza Remix

- 500 Miles

- Home on the Range

- Keyboard Cat

8/10: Wasa, Skookumchuck, Fort Steele, Jaffray

Today, we packed up, hit the road, and then immediately got walloped with rain. Not a tremendous downpour, but a significant pattering. It kept raining for 2 hours, so we just kept riding. When the weather's harsh, time actually passes faster on the road, I think. This figures strongly into my overall thoughts on the tour. 

Eventually, the sky cleared and the rain died off. Riding with some sun and no rain, my clothes dried out. My shoes didn't, so when we rolled to a stop at Fort Steele, I had to take them off to dry:

40mi by lunch -- quite a feat, probably thanks to lack of hills and light headwinds.

Fort Steele is one of those historical reenactment towns, like Jamestown or Old Williamsburg. We didn't want to pony $12 for entrance into what I assumed would be a weak imitation of Deadwood, so here's a picture peeking over the fence into the walled off inner town:

We had lunch at the cafe outside of the wall. It was again some touristy food that fed me. Matt tried to get a veggie soup only for the staff to realize that it was veggie and beef soup. 

We rode another 20 easy miles before we caught up to a pair of French bike tourists inching up a hill. This is the view from that break:

We pressed on and soon got hit with another round of rain. We passed the French couple on the road in the deteriorating conditions:

Finally, we rolled into Jaffray and up a gravel road to a recreation area camp, which means no running water or firewood. 

We scraped some logs (and an axe!) together from generous neighbors and will have some heat tonight. I plan to dry my shoes out. 

8/9: Radium Hot Springs, Invermere, Canal Flats

Similar profile along the road to yesterday: early big climb and relatively easier afternoon. 

After the big climb, we basically descend all the way into town to Radium Hot Springs. So named because analysis of the spring water turned up trace amounts of radon, less than what's in the air, but more than in other water sources, I guess. 

The hot pool was also 39C like Banff's Upper Hot Springs. This facility is part of the same chain of hot spring management, and we managed to get some pics of the old timey bathing suits:

Lunch was at a unremarkable but still top 10 by Yelp restaurant. 

Then we had the bulk of riding ahead of us, some 40mi in tough headwinds. This stretch of BC is more residential, though the views by Columbia Lake are still spectacular. If you can't afford living on Lake Como...

Real estate must be cheap, as there's farmland abutting the lake:

We saw quite a few cows and horses. Here's a curious one:

We're staying at a humble RV park campground, which trades showers and laundry for nice views. Canal Flats, this town, is pretty small, with this huge mill:

Train horns

The Canadian Pacific Railway railroads around here run at any hour, on no schedule. So every once in a while, you'll hear a few horn blasts and the rumbling over rails. I guess my first association with trains is in Tangshan, my mom's home town. I must have visited and heard a lot of trains (Tangshan is a coal mining city) at night while I slept. From then on, any time I hear those train horns, I think of Tangshan and my relatives there. 

8/8: Banff->Kootenay National Park

Got up, took a shower for the road, ate a lot, and headed on our way into a real no man's land. Between our start and finish, there were no indicated restaurants, shops, or services. So we had to carry all our food with us.

The weather was alternately rainy or sunny, making clothing choice hard to optimize. I was wet or too hot half the time, and wishing I was the other way the other half. When cycling, rain in the sun is not that bad. But we got all four: sunny rain, overcast rain, sunny and warm, overcast and cold. 

The big climb was hard, but tolerable. I think our fitness is improving. 

After the peak, we had a nice long descent to the campsite, punctuated by some hills and surprisingly hard headwinds that had us pedaling hard into the downhills. 

We're now out of Banff National Park and in Kootenay National Park, in British Columbia. Similar to our transition from Oregon to California state parks, this McLeod Meadows campground seems to be a few steps (or few decades) behind.

The men's bathroom symbol: 

An old A-frame theater that looks substantially more creepy in person:

 The rivers behind the camp are great, though:

Our firemaking has gone to the next level with this hatchet. Making useful kindling is a breeze. Check Instagram. We're gonna sit by the fire to ward off the site's plentiful mosquitoes. We are spending so much time by the fire that we're thinking of more ways to use it -- marshmallows, grilling, etc. 

Tomorrow, we edge slowly back to civilization, if towns of 700 and 3000 count. Maybe there'll be a signal?