I have to remind myself that this is not a competition. That this is sometimes about watching new feathers drop from the young birds as they fly by. This is also sometimes about hearing the brook babble and coming to relax under its mantra: I am.
Oh how I would love to stay here in my tent for the entire day. But my worries of not making it to Canada press me to pack up, after my forth Starbucks via, and move on.