The day began with finding where the coffee place had moved to in Page.

Then it was the shortest driving day and in many ways the most challenging time of the whole trip. The less said, I think, the better, but … please don’t ever speak of my fucking water heater again, especially if there is not a nickel in the pipeline to do anything about it, and you’re still not reading what I write; good Christ in heaven and do you know what a clutch costs? Thanks.

Enough. It’s all fine. I mean it will be.

When we got home, we unpacked the many maps we collected during the trip, and the laptop too, and studied the evolving Mission to the Beavers.

The main thing we learned is this.

In the end, it is going to prove far easier to get where we’re going than anyone, including the friendly rangers and YouTubers, and including the cold AI, are willing to admit.

Everybody involved is cagey as hell, because they don’t want to see these places overwhelmed and ruined again in their newly undrowned state … the same way they were shit upon in the high-water days by any batch of incest-baby yahoos that could lay their hands on a powerboat and a twelve-pack of Coors.

Good on you, those who know. I hope you keep making it seem as difficult as possible.

And we will do the same, when the very first Magdalenian videos hit the air.