“I have seen your toothbrush touch so many different surfaces,” my friend said as we divided up the remaining food into parcels to distribute the weight
between the packs. The face accompanying this statement was something I can only describe as amused disgust - brow furrowed, nostrils flared, but a slight, positive incline in the corners of the mouth. She was right. I am not one to protect my bristles on a 25-mile slog through rain, mist, hail, and wind. And in grizzly bear country to boot. Plus, I am not disillusioned in thinking that brushing plaque off my teeth makes my mouth actually clean; I have seen some gnarly infections originating from human bites.