Things That Go "Snort" In the Night

Short Version:
Snorter, squirrel-wars, Nene vs baby bear, baked goods and a see-through bridge

Long Version:
The Snorter didn't actually snort; it blew. From the sound of it (which is all I had, given that I was cowering inside the tent at the time) it was blocking one nostril and clearing the other explosively. It was accompanied by hoofsteps, which reduced the alert level compared to what cat- or bear-pawsteps would have engendered, but memories of enormous, tetchy bull elk with non-nubbin* antlers meant that I wasn't as sanguine as I would have been had there been chipmunk- or mole-steps going on. Still, I was back to sleep pretty quickly, which was good given how early the squirrels woke us. That turned out to be a good thing in and of itself, as they were putting on quite a show: chasing each other up and down fallen-tree ramps and stumps, along slightly-too-spindly branches, and across patches of open ground, chittering and squabbling the whole time.

We had a crack at extricating our stowaway, but the difficulty inherent in removing the ceiling panels** left us less-than-enthusiastic about the prospect of pulling off all the wall panels as well, so we reinstated the ceiling, repacked our possessions, and broke camp.

It was Nene's turn to ride the unearned downhill, and we were above the top of the Dog River Trail, which we'd thoroughly enjoyed as the finale of the Surveyor's Ridge ride a couple of months back, so I was alone in the van as I rolled down to the main highway, and for some time afterwards, cooling my heels riverside at the trailhead parking area. Not for as long as I'd expected, though, as she gobbled the several miles of trail in inordinately quick time and appeared at the van ready for delicious foods. Apparently the lower half of the trail was still riding sweetly, but the top was well and truly blown-out and dusty. Highlight of the ride was the young bear which she'd spooked by appearing round a corner at pace, and sent running away as fast as it could manage on four paws. Apparently the thought chain went something like:
- Holy cod! A bear!
- Oh, it's a little one - cute!
- Hang on; small bears have large bear parents... Oh-oh...
- No sign of Ma Bear. Time to ride. Fast.

We stopped at a fruit stall / bakery for fruit*** and baked goods****, then rolled into Hood River, where we met a German woman who was riding her bike from Canada to Mexico and then hit Mountain View Cycles for a bike repair tutorial from Ben and Matt in their underground lair (Hi Ben and Matt!). A quick stop at laundromat and supermarket and we were away, across the river on a narrow-laned drawbridge with a steel-grated deck through which the river was clearly visible*****, and back into Washington, where some much-vaunted riding awaited, including the Lewis River and Mt St Helens.






* = All together now; (E) A nubbin, a nubbin, a nubbin, a nubbin, (A7) A nubbin, a nubbin, a nubbin, a nubbin! (REPEAT)

** = Every conceivable screw-head under the sun, including several counter-sunk so deep we couldn't get to them with our drivers.

*** = Stunningly-good cherries and Sweet Sue peaches.

**** = Ginger cookie for Janine, Pumpkin choc-chip for me.

***** = Janine really liked it when I leaned out the window to look down through the deck grille at the water, as it meant we invariably ended up outside our (very narrow) lane, heading straight at the oncoming southbound traffic