Well you'll be glad to know I survived my adventure. The storms. The routefinding challenges. The pitting of oneself against nature in a remote, savage wilderness. The ill-fated decision to let my friend buy all the provisions, thus ending up with a food supply that contained no chocolate and no coffee.

Just kidding. All except for the last part. The most stressful and dangerous part of the trip involved getting out of Seattle alive, what with F. being three hours late to pick me up, and the roadways clogged with Seattleites spurred into SUV action by the startling confluence of sunshine and a holiday weekend. God save us!

Lucky for us, despite a seven-hour drive to the trailhead, where we arrived at a bright and early 8 p.m., the trail is one of the easiest and fastest in all of Washington State - 3 miles on a flat boardwalk to the beach, which we managed to reach before dark. This being the easiest trail in all of Washington State, the beach was, of course, filled with people and children. But that was OK. It was still nice to be outside, listening to the soothing roar of the ocean. Even if there was no chocolate.

Now I'm back in the less soothing environs of the city where my worries - unfounded and not - crowd around me again. I feel sleep-deprived, insecure, vulnerable. I'm going out on so many limbs right now - personally, artistically, careerwise, it seems impossible I won't fall.

Though I guess if I do, I just get right back up again and keep going, don't I? At least I have my author photos to keep me company. I have to say it was money well spent, because five out of those seventy photos are the most flattering pictures ever taken of me. Even if my book is the worst piece of trash ever written, at least the picture will be good. That's all that matters, right?

Yours in sleep-deprived pessimism,
BB