In the really early morning, the birds woke me up. I ate a couple of cereal bars, packed up, and started walking down the river. The sun was just coming up and it spread over the water. The light glimmered against the white cliffs that ran alongside the river. There were some strange sandstone formations. But in the morning light they looked like friendly animals coming to say hello, or something.

As I walked and looked at the view around me, I realized that something was missing. That jumpy feeling that had been inside me for so long was gone. I had lost that feeling that nothing was quite right and that I was going to fail, in the end, at whatever I did— because I had done all this stuff and not failed. I did hike up the mountain to Darkhorse Lake and back down again. I canoed the Big Hole River. I caught my own trout. I saved Layla’s life.