It is day 159 and I have walked into Reno, NV. 2869 miles away from my first step taken onto the sand in Myrtle Beach, SC. This last week has beaten me down. I am staying at Circus Circus in Reno tonight and taking a rest day tomorrow before crossing into my home state of California.
I have seen the cities, towns and villages change across America. The water towers stood tall over the cozy southern towns. The sight of huddled together greenery in the distance. A town park and a gas station in the Midwest. Out west truck stops are towns. Tight knit formations of houses in a vast endless blank canvas. A giant white letter painted on the slope of the mountain that watches over the town below. I have seen the setting change. I have seen the people change. I no longer have to try and imagine the places I have been. They are no longer a place on a map but a thought in my mind.
Heading out of Winnemucca I cut the day a little short at the sight of a rest stop. I decided that would be a good spot to camp for the night. Every rest stop I visit always has interesting signs and information about the area. The sign here talked about how Interstate 80 the road I am walking is basically the path the settlers took in the mid-1800s to California. It read “Imagine walking out here, moving at a snail’s pace through this landscape.” I’m thinking, yeah I get it, I know how that goes. It went on to say “Imagine the heat, the dust, and mind numbing monotony as they plodded along under the scorching August sun. I thought Jesus it’s not that bad. I have experienced this. I guess the difference being I had cookies in my cart. They probably didn’t.
Throughout the next few days I noticed these small tan bugs that jump around in the shoulder of the road. It was constant they are in the shoulder and jump left or right as the cart approaches them. I passed thousands of them it was almost like watching popcorn being cooked. The biggest downfall was when a semi drove by me pushing the wind directly at me. This caused the now airborne bugs to be redirected on to me. As many as 12 at a time landing on me causing me to yell and scream. I do not like bugs of any kind.
The next stretch I walked through what is called the 40 mile desert to Fernley, NV. A 40 mile stretch is most all directions of waterless desert land. This was known as one of the toughest stretches for the settlers. It is said that they walked at night during this stretch due to the heat. Learning this made what happened next very ironic.
The wind picked up around 3 am. It kicked up to around 40 mph hammering my tent cover. The constant flapping was too loud to sleep through. The rain came next. Sneaking through the lower half of the tent exposed now as the tent cover hovered in the wind. Sleeping was just simply out of the question. Everything is wet at this point. Just standing outside was so cold and uncomfortable because of the gusting wind. I ran to the rest stop restrooms. The only safe place. The toilets were basically those holes in the ground. The wind was gone. It was quiet in there. The smell however was a completely new overwhelming element to the equation. I peeked out the door to see how bad the conditions were. My tent was gone. It had blown about 50 feet away. That is with my sleeping bag sleeping pad and backpack in it. The wind was so strong that it still blew away. This was just the beginning of a long, cold 35 mile day to Fernley.
Everything was off that day. The waterless, dusty, hot desert turned into a cold , wet muddy desert floor. Steaming hot rivers marked with warning signs. Nothing made sense.
A few miles west of Fernley my cart began to shake as I rolled it forward. I looked at the front wheel and my biggest fear was realized. It was flat, again. I had run out of 10” tire tubes. They are virtually impossible to find in stores. I was hoping this one would take me a couple hundred miles further. I had a 12” tube that I attempted to fold to fit. The nozzle on this tube didn’t leave any room to pump up. I was forced to fold the tube and pump it up all before putting it back on the rim. This simply couldn’t be done. I spent an hour on the side of the road trying to make it work. I thought, “Do I still need a cart”? I made a very difficult decision at exit 43 that day. Cart was left behind with all other non-essential items including my sleeping bag. The remaining miles just became a little more difficult as I will now carry everything I have on my back. It is a new challenge which excites me. I now have more freedom to somehow find a way to walk the winding shoulder less roads towards Truckee. This was two days ago. The walking is definitely more difficult. The speed is the same but my body is sore. The pack straps constantly feel like they are choking me and cutting off circulation to my arms. I have second guessed my decision to leave my cart behind several times in the last few days. I know I will get used to it eventually. As for now, I feel naked without my cart. I lost my home. It’s strange. What do I do with my hands?
The decision to leave my sleeping bag behind to lighten my pack proved to be a big mistake immediately. My first night without cart turned very cold overnight. All I could do was force both of my legs in one of the arms of my rain jacket. It was brutal. There were also several dogs howling in the darkness. They were only a few feet away on the other side of the fence as they discovered my tent. They howled for a full half hour. I couldn't see them. It was just noises from the darkness. It kept my mind occupied as I shivered imagining the scariest creatures on the other side of that fence. The little sleep I did get that night I had the same dream I have often. A lot of things take place like a normal dream, only the entire time a large dog is biting my hands. I struggle to push its jaw apart to alleviate the pain. Nobody else in the dream seems to even notice the dog or mention it. I am afraid of dogs.
I am looking forward to tonight and tomorrow. A lot of laying around and eating. Pretty much a dream come true. California on Tuesday!
Side Note (s)
A woman drove passed me in a U- Haul van. She stuck her head out the window while driving. Thinking it was just another person trying to get my attention to wave to me I reached my hand out to wave back. She then yelled “What the F*** are you doing?” I was taken back a bit. Believe me, I have asked myself the same question many times. I distinctly remember thinking it on March 4th on highway 501. I was about 2 miles off of the beach.
The cookies I had in my cart. You know the ones that differentiate myself from the settlers of the 1800s. They were delicious.
I don’t know anything about settlers. I just read a lot of rest stop signs.
I often wonder how many people are lured in to stay at a motel because of the advertised free local calls.
My deodorant melted and I threw it away about 10 days ago. Yet to be replaced.