The healing hasn't taken quite so well as I'd have liked but I'm over a hundred miles from any town bigger than a handful of people, so there's nothing for it but to keep going.
Highway 26 is just beautiful. Coming down the last pass reminded me a little of big cottonwood canyon in Utah. The trucks and RVs that go by are still big ones but they are far far less frequent.
At the bottom of the pass was a neat but nerve wracking gorge, just wide enough for the road and a river. The river is clearly well above it's normal level and tearing at its banks, solid brown with mud. Problem was, since the roar of the river echoed against the canyon walls, it became impossible to hear anyone coming. It was a little concerning seeing a dump truck's side mirror pass over my shoulder that I didn't know was behind me. Thankfully, situations like that have been exceedingly rare.
In Dayville now and it's just too early to stop. I'll make for Mount Vernon (26 miles) or John Day (32 miles) and hope these clouds hold back just a little longer.
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