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All we eat is elk meat, boiled elk, roasted elk, elk jerky sometimes fried elk if we get bear or whale oil, oh, and sometimes elk soup, for four months we've subsisted exclusively on elk except for occassional dog meat, candlefish or duck, the elk have become our saviors, and our culinary suffering, yet it keeps us nourished like some kind of ape predators, Clark has officially named the massive boulder at the front of the bay Cape Disappointment on account that its now March 1806 and since November no one has spotted a merchant vessel nor has any trading post been discovered along the coast in either direction, frankly its astounding, has the world done gone forgotten that the Columbia exists, everyone is gettin uppidy as bull frogs and we've had enough rainy hours here to last ten lifetimes, to hell with the sailors, we've gotta race to finish and we ain't gonna get beat by a disappointment or by a sinister suprise, Load'em up!... Since coming out of the Rocky Mountains like a migrating pack of wolves pursuing the scent of a bloodied den I've been spending more time away from the river's rigors providing fresh meats for the mission that we leave hanging along designated banks, for the first time I feel liberated from the fear of failure winter can no longer hurts us, the great mysteries of the continental crossing have been revealed through their savagery and splendor the tribes have been touched with a new spirit of survival animals ferocious and exotic have been tasted and classified we have learned what these landscapes can lend to farming legions, the mountains no longer menace us, we know how to travel their pain, as my horse feeds on the grass of unowned soil I reflect on my moments of intemperance with the natives when I thrashed a Chinook thief into bleeding shame, the order I gave to burn their village to silent ash when my dog and saddle were stolen fortunately that was not necessary because I got them back, the time I was meanly mocked by a Nez Perce Indian for eating dog meat and threatened to split his skull with my tomahawk if he ever insulted me again, J.A.B.

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Soul Stance River - 34

All we eat is elk meat, boiled elk, roasted elk, elk jerky sometimes fried elk if we get bear or whale oil, oh, and sometimes elk soup, for four months we've subsisted exclusively on elk except for occassional dog meat, candlefish or duck, the elk have become our saviors, and our culinary suffering, yet it keeps us nourished like some kind of ape predators, Clark has officially named the massive boulder at the front of the bay Cape Disappointment on account that its now March 1806 and since November no one has spotted a merchant vessel nor has any trading post been discovered along the coast in either direction, frankly its astounding, has the world done gone forgotten that the Columbia exists, everyone is gettin uppidy as bull frogs and we've had enough rainy hours here to last ten lifetimes, to hell with the sailors, we've gotta race to finish and we ain't gonna get beat by a disappointment or by a sinister suprise, Load'em up!... Since coming out of the Rocky Mountains like a migrating pack of wolves pursuing the scent of a bloodied den I've been spending more time away from the river's rigors providing fresh meats for the mission that we leave hanging along designated banks, for the first time I feel liberated from the fear of failure winter can no longer hurts us, the great mysteries of the continental crossing have been revealed through their savagery and splendor the tribes have been touched with a new spirit of survival animals ferocious and exotic have been tasted and classified we have learned what these landscapes can lend to farming legions, the mountains no longer menace us, we know how to travel their pain, as my horse feeds on the grass of unowned soil I reflect on my moments of intemperance with the natives when I thrashed a Chinook thief into bleeding shame, the order I gave to burn their village to silent ash when my dog and saddle were stolen fortunately that was not necessary because I got them back, the time I was meanly mocked by a Nez Perce Indian for eating dog meat and threatened to split his skull with my tomahawk if he ever insulted me again, J.A.B.