Goodbye; Man, Mountains, Moose + Motor

We officially ran out of time today.

The bus remained perched on a railway sleeper, with no movement in sight.

I had to choose between making the important voyage to Sweden to see Grandparents or staying loyally with the fucked-bus team.

Dan assures me he's OK staying with Cheeques + driving him home when he's all fixed up, good + ready. And tomorrow, all of a sudden, I will leave Chamonix for the UK, like some callous heartless weasel.

As I was locking up our wonky little home, I caught gaze of a glorious reflection in the murky windows of the door. A steaming setting sun was casting an iridescent glowing light on those fine high rocks we seem so determined to stay close to. I wonder what our spaceship motorhome neighbours would have thought if they'd heard me pep talking the bus, then patting him, then launching into a full blown amorous kissing parade, urging and pleading with him to get my beloved home safely.