Our penultimate day. The rhythm has been found, and now it’s about to change again. C’est la vie. Wildflowers of all shades form a Monet

This yarn is nearly unfurled, like flags on the Fourth, or rolltop panniers. From each day we have pulled out something new. Connections, dreams, determination.

7/5 No pressing deadlines today. Just a choice. To bike Hurricane Ridge, or lie fallow? The fellowship of the ridge were nine. Four stayed back

Saturday July 5th0700 morning awoken by trumpets0800 breakfast in the galley0900 march towards Montreal1000 recalibrate navigation (we got lost)1100 refueling1200 lunch on base1300 hand grenades

The trekkers awoke to a mostly dry version of Cumberland campground – starkly different to what they had fallen asleep to last night. After laying

Rest days are deceptive. The bicycles rest. We do everything we don’t have time to do when straining the world through a 10 mph colander

No alarms or bugs to buzz us awake, just sea slugs slicking slimy wakes across our tents, we slept in, crept out, then sluggishly slogged

Loping languorously to Lopez, lopping off miles like volunteer oaks in a lily garden, our eleven saplings sprung out of Ebey ebulliently. Not ones to

Howdy! Thursday was another great day and the coolest day yet for the NYC-Montreal trekkers. The group set off from the campsite early and enjoyed