Though I was trying my best to keep a bright face, the last few days of piddling around Inuvik got to me. It was damned near impossible to feel any real sense of accomplishment when my only daily goals – besides waiting for my bike part – were to find a town pin and sew the butt back into my pants.
Things finally came to a head yesterday, and I marched right down to the North Mart and bought some bread and cheese slices. I was feeling sorry for myself and I needed comfort food. But here’s a valuable lesson from the North – feel sorry for yourself all you want because nobody else cares. Case in point: I neatly unwrapped the cheese slices and turned my back to light a fire when a crow the size of a family dog swooped down. It grabbed all my cheese in one bite and flew across the lake, mocking me all the way.
So, lesson learned. I threw a coat of stiffener on my upper lip and tried to make the best of my predicament. I realized that if someone had asked me a month ago if I’d like to be “stuck” in Inuvik, eating great food, breathing fresh air and getting tons of sleep, I’d have jumped at the chance. No sense in whining about it now.
I guess my change in perspective worked, too, because this morning I woke up to a guy whispering through my tent, “Are you the bike fella? I’ve got a part for you.” And though these words have never escaped my lips before, I, in my inarticulate relief, blurted out, “Oh thank you, Jesus!”
Thank you, indeed.
Now I’m off. Simple as that. I biked up to the northern edge of the Dempster Highway this morning, snapped a quick photo, had a bit of a cry, and now I’m on my way to who knows what. I feel like a little kid! I’m grinning from ear to ear and nothing, short of lightning bolt aimed at my helmet, can possibly wreck my mood. The next stop is Fort McPherson, about a day’s ride down the highway.