Up and over roots, rocks, steep inclines, and even steeper declines. Today and yesterday ik following mountain bike tracks in the dirt. Clearly not just any mountain biker, because to be doing this he must be one of the most badass mountain bikers ever. Walking it is hard enough. To bike? To run? Some other level of athleticism. Not short distances between trailheads either. This guy was in it to let it kill him.

I move on with the tracks of his bike, moose, and bear. Likely the animals use these trails far more than us humans.

I sit at an overlook, stuck in the clouds, no view, just a place to sit, progressively getting colder, munching on some peanut butter pretzels. The wind continues to pick up, I could get a move on but I’m lazy. I get out my poncho and huddle under that. Like some space age hobo with an erect anywhere dome tent, and pretzels. Naturally, at this moment of pride, an ultra runner swiftly passes by muttering a “bonjour” in my direction.

Continuing on the opposite direction as her I see what she had just done. Maybe 2km of straight down, or in her case straight up, with all the fixings for a difficult time. Walking it is hard enough.

The trail is lined with small yellow and blue flowers half the time. Seemingly an ATV path, which is what I think they use for maintenance here. I revel in the ease of walking, until the rocks begin.

Both beautiful, and treacherous. The trail is just getting started.

Today is a short day. The winds, fog, rain, and an attempt at shelter hopping means I get to take it easy. So here I am, sitting in a wooden shelter, fog so thick I can’t even see out the front door. 50 yards from what I assume is a beautiful lake. Of now, just white.