Marysville

Steph wandered over sleepily at around 6ish the next morning to say goodbye and wish me safe travels. Spruce Grove Campgrounds was large and it had been gone 11pm before last night's children's screams and shouts were replaced by their drunken parents who carried on the cacophony of disturbance well into the early hours despite the 10pm noise curfew.

After three months of it, the joy of camping starts to a wear a little thin.

Decending early from Fairmont Hot Springs the road was quiet, calm and tranquil, and the rising sun seemed to trace the path of the mountain tops like a distant otherworldly star, highlighting Canal Flats with an acute dawntime sparkling; really beautiful.

Arriving in Kimberly it seemed they'd heard I was coming and had put on a special pride party in the park, which was nice of them, but really not necessary.

It seemed like a sweet little town, but I carried on through to its southern district of Marysville, where Rawley was rather easily located by his garden full of decorative bicycle wheels. We had a good catch up and talked Brent, dog sleighs, routes, vegetables patches, and adventures. It was a lovely easy evening with his family, and I felt like I'd had an approval seal stamped on my upcoming plans.

Grey Creek Pass awaits.Leer más