I know it's early. It has to be. But there is a canoe or kayak out there in the creek with the weirdest paddle stroke. I've sat upright in my sleeping bag. As my exhaustion gives way to wakefulness, I look up and discover that's not any person piloting a watercraft in front of my shelter.
It's a bit comical now reading that entry of mine from this day. Just the day before I'd discovered that I'd likely have the not-so-fun loss of one, possibly two toenails because of my ambition to hike nearly 16 miles in wet boots. But there you have it.
The day starts with a series of special moments.
What a difference a sunny day can make. I had slept in a bit later than I'd intended, but with about 8 miles to cover to reach my chosen campground at West Chickenbone Lake, I still had the day stretching out in front of me.
Wet is a relative thing. At some point an outdoors person starts accepting that everything you own is going to be wet.