It was coming up on the end of a long, harrowing day for me though my siberian husky was still happy, bouncy and ready to run another 40 miles. A car stopped and a man yelled something. Being tired and focused on finding a place to camp, I asked, 'What?' in English by accident rather than Swedish. He paused a moment. "You wear a helmet!" he finally said in broken English.

"Yes," I replied wearily.

"Why not dog?"

I gave him a baffled look and finally said, "Can you tell me where to buy one that will fit him?"

"No." Then he asked me if I spoke French, Dutch and German (all in the appropriate tongues). When I answered no to each he finally drove off, ranting in Dutch, waving an arm angrily as he went.

Loke and I exchanged glances, mine baffled. His was a smiling, tail-wagging glance that said, 'We go now?'