Through the tunnels, whoosh, the moment of realizing you are inside a mountain. Then stopping in Lytton to look down to where the Thompson sidles into the Fraser, driving Highway 12 along the Fraser River, first in light, then in shadow. John slowed for a coyote standing on the edge of the road, gazing at the river, but I missed it, drawn instead to the ochre flanks of the mountain on my side of the road. John said, I am so grateful to have a life where I can drive this road and see this beautiful country. Me too. Wish you were here.