Awoke feeling like I was back in Yosemite. Covered in mosquito bites. Should have set up my tent. So much for civilization. Wandered over to breakfast at the only restaurant going. Poetically our server was one of the “hiker trash” comment women. She was hilarious. Raised in Barcelona, she had picked up hillbilly Canadian English from her live-in boyfriend. She brought us fresh picked fruit and refused payment for breakfast. What a sweetheart and what a welcome.
Back to the hotel for a final stuffing of the packs. Then aboard a Greyhound for Vancouver to create our own Katahdin. There was much to celebrate and celebrate all we would. But not a step I would walk, that is what taxis are for.