I camp about half a kilometer outside Massey, Ontario.
In the morning, as I wander into this little town, I see that there is a breakfast and lunch diner called The Back Home Bistro.
I am there fifteen minutes before opening, so I sit in a chair at a Paris-style outdoor table to wait.
This bistro is the kind of place where the owner/chef comes out of the kitchen to say hello to the guests.
This owner’s name is Barb, and we chat about my trip, early retirement, and how delicious the veggie omelet is.
All of the food is tasty, and although the decor might suggest a high-end restaurant, the prices are diner prices.
What a great place to start off the day.
I walk by the town of Spanish, which makes me think of the town of Espanola, which I walked through yesterday.
Espanola is a cool name.
In fact, I would live there just so I could tell people I live in Espanola.
It sounds very Mediterranean, like fire in the blood.
The black flies are just awful all day.
But I still stop at a picnic spot in Serpent River.
Legend has it that the water monster, Mishebeschu, has an underwater den near the mouth of Serpent River.
But I don’t see it.
In the woods, after I set up my tent, I spend ten minutes chasing down and killing all the black flies that managed to get inside when I launched myself through the open door.
I shake my hair and a few more emerge.
Luckily, they’re easy to spot and kill.
They just walk along my tent screen, silhouetted against the background light, and then I press my finger against them.
As the light dwindles, I watch the fifty or so mosquitoes just beyond the edge of my screen probing for a weakness in my tent defence.
I’m afraid of accidentally rolling against the screen in my sleep where their little stingers might get me.
In the morning when I awaken, the mosquitoes are still there against the screen, but they are docile.
I wonder if mosquitoes sleep.
