cyberhobo

Mile 1362. We cook our dinner on the patio of a gracious bakery and cafe in Medford. We’ve found that “welcome” and “information” centers in this part of Oregon don’t supply picnic tables. Heading out of Medford it starts to rain. As we ascend the Rogue River toward Crater Lake, the rain turns to snow.…

Mile 1281. We race through the high forests of southern Oregon to reach our destination with enough light left for some pictures. The orange and yellow live oaks in the Siskiyou valley are stunning, but we don’t stop for photos this time. At the Mount Ashland ski area reality hits us: the forest road that…

Mile 1021. The landscape here brings us to a halt. Northwestern Nevada seems to have some treasures hidden away. The broad vista hides dramatic volcanic canyons. As we head back to the car Pete comments, “Well, we’ll never capture that in a picture, will we?”

Mile 957. A remote Nevada rest area provides a perfect midday refreshment opportunity. With the help of the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches I brought, we’re ready to shoot for Oregon.

Mile 729. Pete has an appointment to register for his spring semester classes online at 10 am, so we stop in Elko at the Red Lion Hotel & Casino. There we find some internet terminals at the Starbucks, so Pete buys a blueberry muffin. While he’s making the token purchase an employee sits at the…

Mile 679. We stop for gas in Wells. I’m tempted by Lulu’s Espresso Shop across the street. Once inside, we see by the employee T-shirts that we’ve entered Lulu’s Espresso, Cafe, and Gentlemen’s Club. A short, squat, aging blond with a crew cut makes me the worst cappucino I’ve ever tasted. It would have been…

Mile 537. We sleep in the car at a familiar rest stop in Utah, wake up before dawn, and are well on our way to the great salt flats by sunrise. Thoughts of the first meal of the trip begin to occupy our minds.

Mile 367. Between Rock Springs and Evanston the weather gets snowy. There are a few signs warning that the road is closed at Fort Bridger. I keep driving until an endless line of motionless trucks appears. A few people bail, driving the wrong way down the shoulder until it’s possible to cross to other side.…

Mile 0. Pete arrives, having traveled by train from Chicago, in a rented Chevy Malibu. We have ambitious plans to drive to Oregon to commemorate our 1996 Pacific Crest Trail hike, and the pacts associated with it. We really have no idea if the amount of driving we plan is even possible, but we figure…