Tuesday 9 June 2026-- I have a horrible stomach ache in the middle of the night...the convenience store sub doesn't want to be digested, I guess. Or maybe it's the bag of jalapeño-flavored chips. I dream there's a puzzle in my belly, a 5x5 grid of letters making five words horizontally and five vertically, all making up a coherent sentence. If I can figure it out, the bellyache will go away. I know one of the horizontal words is "people", and if I can get the vertical word going through the L, I'll have the answer. "Ample", maybe.

Wake up and think about it..."people" is six letters. The stomach ache is the worst I've ever had. I'm not sure what age it is that it first occurs to you that you could die at any moment--pretty young, I guess--but it's a thought that becomes more present and plausible as one ages. Maybe I've ruptured something, or maybe some weird cancer is suddenly presenting. I think about people suffering like this for weeks on end, or months, before giving up the ghost. If this is in fact the onset of my demise, I'd just as soon get it over with. That's an odd thought; I've always believed I would fight to my last breath. There are worse things than dying, I guess. Somehow I get back to sleep.

I feel a little better in the morning, but packing up and checking out is difficult. Drive down to the café, thinking a little caffeine might help. Big mistake... halfway through my coffee, I have to go outside and dry-heave.

Drive a few miles to Cap Vert, then down a dirt road to Pointe à Frank, overlooking the lagoon behind the Dune du Nord. I know I can sleep in the car for a while here without bothering anyone. At about 2:30, I'm awakened by the thrum of a car engine. Look up to see an old gent looking down at me from his truck. Raise my head and nod at him. Satisfied that I am not a corpse--or perhaps disappointed--he goes on his way. I feel better--not really great, but a lot more functional than I did three hours ago. What's more, the morning's overcast has cleared away. I look out at the lagoon, the long line of dune to the left, the colorful houses on green Île du Havre-aux-Maisons across the water, all under a cloudless sky. What a gorgeous place. I feel grateful to be alive.

It's late enough in the afternoon now to check in at my next stop. Pick up supplies at the IGA in La Vernière and drive down along the dunes behind la Plage de la Martinique, which connects Île du Cap-aux-Meules to Île du Havre-Aubert. I have a little difficulty finding my landlord at Aux Portes de La Grave, but once I'm in, I'm very happy with my cozy apartment, which has a deck looking over the historic site of La Grave, a few hundred yards down the hill. I have dinner in--salad and cold meats from the IGA--and have a dram, in hopes of encouraging digestion, but no beer, which shows how off-kilter I am. Retire early, after watching The National on CBC.