I arrived in San Diego last Wednesday pretty beat down after getting the door slammed in my face on the freeway. The perfect ending didn’t pan out, but I did finish the ride.
Crossing America was an unbelievable journey. There was so much I missed along my route and so much more that was not even in the path that I took. My goal was to get a job, chronicle my travels via Globetrekkin’, and bike across the country.
Mission accomplished! Now the fun begins.
The last 24 hours were pretty insane. I finally crashed and thought I might not make it until Thursday. When the opportunity to sleep presented itself, my body wouldn’t let me budge until it got its fill. I never expected it would happen in the middle of the desert.
I have arrived! I’m not at my final destination, but I finally reached California. It seems like it’s going to be more difficult to get to San Diego than I thought. Each region has brought its own specific challenges. Why I wrote the final one off as a walk in the park is anyone’s guess. It’s anything but! Enter…the Desert!
I grew up in a family where athletics were the norm. My grandfather played pro baseball and my father took a scholarship playing golf.
When I was younger, my dad got me to try every sport I wanted. In one of our father/son grudge matches, him teaching and me being a know it all, I told him I wasn’t doing something with the golf club that he told me I was in fact doing. The next time out, he brought the video camera. What he recorded was what he said. Turns out the old man wasn’t as dumb as I thought.
This is my record of America, spent on a bicycle, the last 139 days….. from the other side of the car window.
The past week has been fast and furious. The Grand Canyon was my last Hoo Rah on this trip. I am a little frustrated that I have gotten to one of the most awe inspiring places in the country with so many things to see and do and now I’m pushing so hard to finish, but one thing is keeping me on the bike pushing to hit San Diego, California.
While witnessing the grand finale of a fireworks show you find yourself in awe of the spectacle unfolding before your eyes. Hushed oohs and ahhs waver through the crowd and occasionally you look to the left or right in silence just to make sure those that are with you are taking in the same inspiring sites unfolding before your own eyes. Walking back to the car and heading home, each one of you recounts your favorite explosion in the foreground of the starry sky. Minutes after the show each person has their own favorite memory that will last until the next celebration.
After leaving Colorado and the mountains, I thought I would be in warmer temperatures. I was a little off. The past couple of nights the have been cool; obviously not as much as I experienced in the mountains.
After I shot down the back side of the Red Mountain Pass, I headed straight for the first store in Silverton, guzzled an Arizona tea, a snickers bar and headed for some trees. I was out like a light at 11:30am an woke up again at 1pm to a phone call. I always forget to turn the phone off.
After my holy sprinkler wake up call, I jumped up pretty quick and headed out on the road. Ever since Salida I had been riding on HWY 50. This is the same HWY that runs through Kansas. The same one I used on the second half of that state. In Montrose, I turned off HWY 50 and onto 550. My plan was to head toward Telluride.