Banff to Calgary (130 km)


Liquor BarnFelt better this morning. Once on the road I realized that I wasn’t. You know when you go to fart, and then just as the fart is crowning you feel the wet squelch of something that is not a fart getting ready to make a run for it? This was my thankfully-short trip to Calgary.

My ex-roommate Dave came back from Peru, which turns everyone’s colon into a waterslide, with a great expression for this phenomenon: “gambling.” As in, “You guys walk ahead, I’m gonna hang back and do a bit of gamblin’.” ‘Cause you never know.

Got to Cori and Phil’s in Calgary (they are in the UK), and hung out with Lucy the Dog for the afternoon. The sun was an orange ball through the smoke of the forest fires as early as seven o’clock.

Still felt lousy. Amy and Joe and Amy’s parents returned from Banff (I’d met them there earlier in the day before leaving) and we worked out the sleeping arrangements.

I suggested the bean bag chair. Amy suggested Imodium.

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