Thursday

I woke up late and took a coffee and chair over to the lakeside. The mosquitos swarmed me but I tried to ignore them and drink in the serenity all around me. Suddenly, above the trickling and lapping sound of the lake, I could hear slow, deep rolls of distant thunder.
We were in a valley with steep, rolling mountains covered in blackened pine-beetled trees as far as the eye could see.

Earlier we had seen a bear, calmly eating grass and I imagined the forests around me teaming with wildlife that I couldn’t see. It took us an hour to wash ourselves and last nights dishes and to get our rig ready for the road. Just as we were about to leave there was a violent crack of thunder and huge drops of rain started to fall. As we drove away, everything had turned grey, little rivulets formed and the sound of thunder and rain on the metal roof of the motorhome sank both Marilyn and I into a kind of reverie.