Heavy rain overnight. Little respite in the morning. Brief spells of lighter showers. Low cloud on the surrounding slopes. Nearby peaks lost. The map suggested some over 10,000 feet. Yet surprisingly mild, despite being just a few hundred miles south of the Arctic Circle. Something insipid, draining about the precipitation. Sapping. Hoping always for a break in the evening to pitch the tent.
Second day back on the road after the dental dramas. I’d felt weary the previous evening, but not tired. Strangely alert, as if the body was glad of the exertion. Fourth continent yes, but easier, no. Rather, probably just more stoic.
Pushing the pedals would have been enough. But there were bears and moose to contend with. Or at least there might have been. Not yet. An understood but uncalibrated danger. Drawing comfort that steady traffic on the highway would deter them from venturing onto the road. But no certainty.
Lingering thoughts about my tooth extraction. Tentative self-reassurance the gap, the dull, at times almost imperceptible, ache was just part of the healing process. Monte the dentist had said it would take time.
