Interstate 80 runs, as far as I know, across the entire country. I rode on it in Ohio and Indiana and got back on it in Des Moines, Iowa. I will continue to ride it to Salt Lake City, Utah, where I will switch over to Interstate 84 all the way home. Home. I have never missed it so much. I think this version of homesickness comes from missing the solid relationships I’ve nurtured over the past few months with my friends Brian, Josh, and all my Army future soldiers, and also that I miss my family a great deal – which includes my roommate, Chris. I don’t miss my material things or even my bed, of all those things. I miss the strength of the relationships at home, the companionship I have when I’m there. I miss the idea of home, something I’ve felt without since I left for college; the last few years have seemed like me fitting comfortably in homes of others, but never really bein able to claim a place as my own until this year. I have never met so many friendly strangers as I have out here on the road, but there is very little to continue relating to others and the short conversations only slightly crack the surface of my character and theirs. I am endlessly grateful for the people I have been able to visit on this trip, though I still have a few more to catch up to. Without this journey, who knows when the next time would be that I’d get to see these people. I can’t tell you how many people have wept at my departure, and I do, too, out of joy for having had such experiences. I don’t feel like people are crying because they’re sad, I feel like it’s a mix of pride, happiness, and gratefulness to have me in their lives. I know I’m a pretty great person, but I wouldn’t know if it weren’t for all these wonderful people. And I wouldn’t be great if it weren’t for them.
Nebraska. Oh flat, windy, Nebraska. As I was approaching the eastern border of the state from Des Moines, I was staring at a cloud that went North to South for as far as I could see. It was a visible border between Iowa and Nebraska that looked like rain. I saw a magnificent bald eagle soaring over the interstate at one point – so amazing.
The sun was setting between 6 and 7pm and made for a magnificent sunset between the clouds. As I entered Omaha, I knew I was extremely blessed to not be under rain; as I looked North, I saw it coming down, and as I looked South, it was the same view. Somehow, I was riding in the only place it wasn’t raining, so I kept going. I rode until long after dark. Chip and Roxanne had provided me with a pair of leather chaps that both of them had grown out of, and they kept me more than warm. The road was nice, decently lit, and I wasn’t yet tired. I rode until 9pm, when I started to notice a sprinkling of rain and the wind picking up.
I found a quaint little campsite off of the interstate that allowed night time check-ins and only cost $16 for a campsite. No one would have been the wiser if I paid or not, as the office would be unoccupied until 1pm the next day. However, I’m an honest traveler and would not like any sort of negativity to come back and bite me in the butt later.
Setting up my tent in the wind was entertaining, but not difficult. For the first time during my camping adventures on my trip I had to use all of the stakes provided with the tent kit in order to keep all the various flaps from making a major commotion all night. The stakes were a pain to attempt to shove into the one inch of dirt and successive gravel, but whatever. I’m not sure why most tent sites have gravel under the dirt, it never works to drive the stakes into it. Most of the stakes held up over night, and the flapping was kept to a minimum, considering the constant gusts of wind. Sometime in the middle of the night, I was awoken by the sound of cats fighting and it sounded like they were in the grass right next to my tent. After a few seconds, I heard one scamper away and the other scurry up the tree above my tent. This made me reconsider the notion that they were cats, but probably raccoons instead. I remember hearing raccoons fight during the summer of 2008 when I lived with my sister in Seattle. The pair then was in the top of a tall pine tree and we watched the great pine sway with the commotion of the psycho rodents. I didn’t hear anything else from the two creeps for the rest of the night there in Nebraska, though I did hear the tree monger jump down and go his own way a couple hours later; the loud thud and crunching of leaves gave him away.
I’d still take bratty raccoons over a bear any day.
In the morning, I laid in my tent as long as possible. The blowing wind and cloudy skies were not a welcome sight, but I did what I could to muster up some motivation to change clothes, eat a breakfast of Snickers and Blisscuits, brush my teeth, pack up, and move on. Checkout for the campground was 11am, but I left before ten.
The ride was pretty uneventful during the morning. I stopped for gas a couple of times, needing more frequent breaks than usual due to the gusts of wind hitting me constantly. Usually wind just breezes past me, since my body is not very big, but the wind came from all sides and was worsened by the semi-trucks. It was easy to counter them and not stressful or scary, but it was exhausting. It also greatly reduced my fuel efficiency.
Right as I was getting into Wyoming, it seemed that all the boring parts had been exclusively written into the state boundaries of Nebraska. Wyoming was immediately more hilly, had more trees, and had a lot more to look at in terms of topographical geography and landscape.
About 60 miles east of my destination of Laramie, Wyoming, I lifted my visor to scratch an itch on my face and a bug flew in my nose! It was amusing attempting to get the bug out of my nose while going 80mph, at least until I hit a bump and gave myself a nosebleed, which made the situation even more amusing. The only thing I could grab to stifle the blood flow was the rag I use to wipe bugs off of my visor every night. Ironic that, while attempting to remove a bug, I had to resort to putting a bug-covered rag in my nose. Within a mile was an exit and I managed to pull off and get to a gas station to clean myself up. Oh the joys of adventuring!
I arrived in Laramie around 5:30pm and met with my long time friend, Tucker. I was able to get my stuff settled, shower, and then we took off for dinner. The local hot spot is a place called Altitude Chophouse and Brewery, which had one of the best IPAs I’ve ever tasted. The food was very good, too. I had a Thai-spiced salmon burger with waffle fries.
The night ended with some catching up and crashing around 11pm.
Today, I have spent the entire morning finishing up my masters program; I have officially completed all the schoolwork necessary to earn my degree, save for one discussion board posting I’ll submit tomorrow. I’m very ecstatic about the completion of this endeavor, since I’ll have nothing but riding home, blog posting, and sending postcards to worry about for the next week.
Since Tucker is working until at least 4pm, I am going to attempt some more of this Geocaching business, we’ll see if I encounter an success this time around.
Until next time,