one point five miles of terror

we climbed over 3500 feet yesterday, with both scott and i feeling the force, that being the directional arrow of our navigation systems (just follow the arrows, dummy).

that riding zeal, however, meant we had to backtrack because we didn’t pay attention to “our turn”.

same shit, different day.

we turned around and headed back to the swan river trading post, an rv/campground park with obvious “open carry” privileges.

getting there meant gravel back to the highway and then 1 and a half miles on the swan river highway to recuperative bliss.

holy shit. screaming traffic, no shoulder, and a tarmac that was like a crumble cake topping.

instant sense of imminent death. scott was in front of me and i watched as an adventurer van passed me going at least 75, unsteady mph, and missed him by a couple of feet.

plenty of room, right?

not when you are tightroping whatever smooth surface there is and the driver gives you no room.

fucking mulyuk.

made it to the campground and had to unwind with self-hypnosis, contemplation, introspection, and deep-breathing and yes, a couple of beers.

all was well….ooommmmmmmm.

we got set up in a cozy little cabin; no tent for us, and slept like the near-octogenarian cherubs that we are.

onto owl creek campground.

very fitting.