Ruminations on a dreary maritime day.

We've spent a few days in Halifax, although the reality of things hasn't sunk in yet. This is the end of the line for me. We've been living out of panniers for ten months out of the last year, shopping at a different grocery store every day, driven forward by the promise of something new. That has been my source of comfort and inspiration for a long time now, my reliance on something just over the horizon. Every day on the road has it's low points, be it rain, bugs, or exhaustion. At these stressful ravines I shut everything out by dreaming of a domestic life in the city. In a few days my realities will switch, I'll return to comfort and have life on the road to dream about. I may have learned enough from the hardships of travel to make me content with a commonplace existence, but for now it's speculation. I don't envy Andrea's ride home- I'm sick of touring and the thought of senic roadsides makes me nausous. It's clear that we need some time appart, if we ever hope to have a day without bickering. These last few weeks have been hard. Andrea left on her bike this morning, and I'm getting on a plane this Saturday. How's that for a reality check? The tour is over, but far from digested, feeling like a stomach full of the best and worst foods I can imagine, all mixed together, waiting to be broken into components to fuel the rest of my life.