I failed to not be homeless despite my efforts to pay for a room. Instead I became the Troll of the Whitefish River pedestrian bridge (see below). I might try for a room again tonight because I still need sleep and I smell like I haven’t showered in weeks( I haven’t).
The trees around me quiver and bend as the wind continues unabated. If I listen intently I can hear each gust start as a low rumble on the far end of the valley and then steadily rise in pitch as it rushes my way. The trees to my right are tossed about first and then all the others follow suit down the line leaving no leaf unturned. My tent likewise shakes, flattens, and flaps. It reminds me of home, where Autumn storms blow through the night and shake the house to its foundation. The wind is blowing between 30 and 40 mph and I’m finding it hard to motivate myself to be adventurous today.
I melted my quads dragging an absurdly heavy bike over Logan Pass Friday and spent yesterday hiding from waves of lightning inside the lodge in St. Mary. I definitely needed the rest, after one mile I realized the other 19 were not going to happen. It’s ok, I need to spend more time reading and writing anyway. The decent weather will return tomorrow and I’ll once more find it impossible to sit still.