My friend Michael who was supposed to join me on the trek from California to Nebraska had to cancel on me for various reasons. This threw me into a loop as it meant that I was going to be along by myself instead of having a companion for this journey. I met with him in the morning to pick up some boxes to take to his family in Nebraska as I am still going to go to his cousins wedding. I am close enough with his family to still be welcome at this event. I guess I’ll be Michael by proxy.
I crossed the San Francisco Bay Bridge at 11:45AM on Tuesday June 15th, 2004. I was a confusion of both excitement and complete terror as to what my journey was going to hold in store. As I promised, I took as many of the smaller roads as possible that meant getting off I-80 immediately and taking Highway 4 along the Sacramento River delta. The greatest excitement about this journey was to see exactly the location of the Pittsburg/Bay Point BART station. I have ridden the Pittsburg/Bay Point BART numerous times but never knew where the terminus was. Now I do. The route took me through Antioch and then I crossed the Antioch Bridge into the delta itself. The delta river road had me cross numerous small bridges and I soon ended up in Sacramento.
As I passed through Folsom, I stopped in at a Borders to pick up the book White Teeth by Zadie Smith on tape. I entered into the Lake Tahoe region, had a picnic and then set off for Carson City. I admit, that being the gambling lover that I am, I did drop some cash on the craps table. I was in and out in less that half an hour.
Heading east from Carson City, I was faced with a decision as to whether or not to take I-80 or to head east through Nevada on US-50, named “the loneliest road in the US” by Life magazine. I took US-50 and immediately saw the sign below
And filled up my gas tank. I had to document this for all you Californians reading this. As I headed east, I stopped off to see some petroglyphs.
I ended up pulling off at a recreation area called Sand Mountain (a big sand dune in the middle of the basin and range region) to camp for the night. Note the sign below that pointed to the BLM area pulled into. My plan on sleeping outside was quickly thrown out the window by the swirling wind and sand.
I am feeling much more comfortable about things now. But I realize that these first three days of the trip are essentially the equivalent of a “solo” that they have a number of wilderness students do. I am alone with my own thoughts and feelings. At this point I am reflecting on the fact that I am actually able to physically take this trip. To think about where I was one year and nine months ago, in that hospital in London, I am so grateful for all the support and love I was given and for all of you who told me NOT to give up, when at that point, I would rather have just said “screw it” and given up on life, let alone have hope of walking again. For all that support and love (that’s you Mom, Dad, and Marl) I am eternally grateful.
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