Day 11

Waking after a good night's sleep, I take the last few sips of the now cold coffee from the tumbler next to my pack. Yawning and then remembering the invitation to breakfast I'd received the day before, I quickly head for the canteen. When I enter, the smell of flap jacks is already in the air, and David is at the griddle flipping a giant pancake.

'Better get 'em while they're hot.' he says.

'You won't get an argument out of me.' I reply.

We all eat together, and take a quick spin around memory lane once more; then it's time to go. As I walk away from the camp site, I'm once again filled with a great sense of wonder and appreciation for all the good folk of this state.

Off down 14 again and on the right hand side of the road a small group of Blacktail does watches me as I approach. I go past the the Bridge of The Gods and then come to Stevenson, a cute little town which appears to have carved out a little niche for itself with passing tourists. I stop in at Robbie's cafe for a coffee and a sandwich, and post my journal entries for the last few days. Then, I'm back on the road, heading toward Carson. By about 16:00 I reach the little town of Home Valley and see a sign advertising camping. The place looks good, but more than that, I get a good vibe that this is where I should be. The feeling doesn't disappoint. Within 30 minutes of setting up, Stacy (a lady from the site opposite mine) comes over with her rambunctious lab, Dexter, to invite me over to their campsite for dinner. As I look down at my cup of recently rehydrated fruit, my taste buds silently exclaim 'Yes!'

At the neighbouring campsite I was introduced to Merel and Vern. They were both friendly enough. Vern is the park host there in Home Valley, and evidently, his friends have come to keep him company as the season draws to a close. Anyway, it doen't take too much time before the delectable aroma of chanterelles is in the air, and Stacy proceeds to inform me that this particular variety of mushrooms is only found in a limited number of places--something about the Douglas Fir and amount of percipitation in the area. Well, let me tell you, they are just about the tastiest shrooms to have ever graced my pallet. Merel's busy fixin' pork chops while Vern rotates the Russet's on the coals. I'm given a plate with a massive mountain of glorious food just as Pink Floyd's Learning to Fly comes on the radio and I'm like: 'Can this day get any better?' Food, fellowship, and Floyd...a mighty good combination. I fall asleep with a full belly and several more magical moments stored away in my memory.