One of the things I've written bit about is the role that solo hiking plays in life for me, but I haven't ever really gone deeper on it. It’s personal. Sharing that internal dialog lays bare the internal struggles between doing what feels good and what is right...
It's early again as I come awake to the same sound from the morning before. The slow sloshing sound that I now know is a moose. It's again getting closer. This time I'm prepared, having set my camera out so that it would be at the ready.
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.