Edson

   The rain poured outside the window again. When we started biking, I had to take off my gloves after only about half and hour. The water had soaked threw the gloves and my hands were prunie and tender. Nothing that I wore anymore stayed dry for long. I had found a certain kind of comfort in knowning that I was as uncomfortable as I could be, and that my situation couldn't get any worse pending a snow storm.
   My bike had been having problems ever since Kelowna and early in the day I had started losing spokes. The rain fell, spokes broke and repairs were frequent. The amount of kilometers we were putting behind us fell short of what we had hoped. When we rolled into the town of Edson, we looked for a little while for a cheap place to sleep or a willing person to host us. This was not to be the case tonight, and so we found a motel, paid the fee and warmed up indoors.
   Instead of spending our night in front of the TV, we spent it eating our last can of chef boyardie and fixing, oiling and maintiaining our bikes. My back tire was in such terrible condition that the only was to ride it was to disengage the back brakes because the tire was nowhere near true since I had been losing and replacing spokes constantly. It only needed to get me threw another day to Edmonton, where I could get a mechanic to fix it up... again.