What you’ve done becomes the judge of what you’re going to do -- especially in other people’s minds. When you’re traveling, you are what you are right there and then. People don’t have your past to hold against you. No yesterdays on the road.
--William Least Heat Moon, Blue Highways
The roadtrip wisdom of Mr. Least Heat Moon has not apparently reached the kind and efficient ladies and gentlemen of the Canadian Immigration Post at the end of Interstate 91. "So one of you has a California license but sort of lives in Georgia and soon-to-be North Carolina, and the other one has a Minnesota license but lives in Massachusetts, and together you're driving a car with 36 gallons of vegetable oil in the trunk through Montréal and Toronto on your way to Chicago?" They asked what states we'd lived in -- that took a while, especially because she said other countries were fair game too. Anyway, here's a photo of Mike and I in Acadia National Park, which I like to refer to as Gravel Camp. Yes, that too is a much longer story. (One that involves car alarms, ribbed blankets, and the verb "clench.") But the hike there involved the above flowers making their impossible way out of the rocks you climb to reach "The Beehive." More from the road tomorrow or the day after . . .