Public Transport...
Day 54 - 59
6.6.15 - 6.11.15
Here I begin writing about the final leg of my journey cross country. I've had to take some time off to get my mind of the end of this trip, which, as you will see, did not go at all as planned. It was a recipe of failed expectations, mystery, doubt, and sadness. But let's not jump the gun.
If you remember from Part 37 of the road trip blog, Emma and I had just driven through Beartooth Pass, which was an absolute bomb of an adventure. We found the campsite just outside Red Lodge, MT. We woke up to the sound of one of those gators that the campground attendants drive. That is a sound of sheer terror when you are looking to sneak in and out of a campsite. Yes, we had to pay. I think he realized we were trying to get in for free. They don't like it.
 |
| A nice view of the mountains behind the campsite |
 |
| A Montana sunrise |
 |
| Welcome to Wyoming (again) |
I had pulled over to assess the noise when it happened in the winter, and I was unable to start the engine, so I decided we needed to get to a town at least, to minimize towing distance if necessary. The next town was Sheridan, WY, still a fair distance when hearing an irritating click with every engine rotation.
I stopped into an auto parts place and one of the guys said it sounded like a worn connecting rod in the engine, and that basically means bye-bye engine. Well shit. Also no Subaru dealerships in town, and I'm advised not to drive the car. We went to a nearby Toyota place, since I figure at least it's Japanese, like Subaru. Same deal from them - don't drive the car, because it will die on me.
Where to stay for the night? What to do about the car? Get a new engine in it, sell it and get a beater to get home? What about all my stuff? I also have Emma with me, and she is supposed to be back in Chicago by the 10th of June. When stuff goes bad, it snowballs, at least when it goes bad like this. Many unknowns as of this point. However, we were in a town with access to food and internet for finding other things, so as far as that goes, we were set. A nice guy gave us a ride to Starbucks with free wifi, where we found that there was a city park right around the corner from the dealership that allowed camping for a few consecutive nights. Talk about hitting it lucky.
Here was the skyline from our site at the nice grassy park:
 |
| Sheridan, WY |
 |
| Cottonwood trees |
Here we sat. I had a nice talk with a guy from AAA, who told me a guy would be on his way within an hour or so. During this period of waiting, I had nothing better to do than to think about what had just happened, and how unexpectedly bad of a situation I was in. We watched the train with a hundred cars go by. A few cars went by, none of which were a tow truck. It was utterly bleak. Beautiful country, but bleak and barren. I decided to play the accordion. Improv music will often help me deal with hard things. I've used it in the past, but this time was very powerful. I'm not sure if it made anything better per say, or maybe it did...hard to know. I know that it allowed for me to cry things out, which I'll be honest has not happened in many years. I'm quite sure that this emotional distress came through in my music. Music conveys nothing better than emotions in my opinion. I was at a loss. Confusion. Disappointment in regards to the road trip having to end on the side of the road in rural Wyoming. Frustration, because I was no longer able to give Emma a ride back to Chicago in the form of an exciting road trip. And the death of a vehicle that had taken me over 11,000 miles across the nation to see things I've never come close to seeing before. It let me do things I haven't done before. Wombat was like a close friend, and on its deathbed, I outright killed him today. It was imminent death considering an engine replacement was not in my budget. But now it was in my hands...I had done it myself.
Even months after the fact, this is challenging for me to write about. I want to forget about it. I really want to not remember this part of it at all. But you all have been following the story mile after mile, so I owe it to you. I owe it to myself, to accept that sometimes things turn bad when you least need them to. On the bright side, I hadn't caused any injuries from crashing or the like. That was not enough to turn my mood around. Maybe life has been kind to me, and I haven't had to experience something challenging like this before. It was a step into the unknown, but way more at once than I wanted.
Tow truck arrived. Big and yellow. Engine functional. That in itself pissed me off. Thanks to Emma for trying to make me pull it together so I could talk to the driver and get him the information he needed for the tow. When you just want to dissolve into the background and not exist. He towed us back to Sheridan, and dropped Wombat off in the back lot of the dealership.
The remainder of the day, I had to choose between getting my mind as far off the subject of reality as possible, or trying to deal with what lay ahead of me. I aimlessly browsed used cars for sale in the area, none of which were in my budget. Engines for Wombat cost more than the car itself. For the time being, Wombat served as a storage area for all my stuff.
I spent many hours talking with people at the dealership to see if they might have something I could buy to get me as far as home. And many hours on the phone with parents trying to figure out the best choice to move forward. But there are only so many hours in a day, so Emma and got our stuff and headed back to the city park.
That evening, we had a nice sunset at our disposal to let us forget about reality.
 |
| Sunset over Sheridan WY |
A child had left bubble mix at the picnic tables the night before. I blew some bubbles. They slowly sank to the grass, but with the morning dew on the blades, the bubbles didn't pop. Sometimes it's the small things in life.
Over the course of my stay in Sheridan, a beautifully kept (or restored) original Beetle appeared at the dealership and was parked next to Wombat. It was like a friend for Wombat during his last few days.
After some debating of options, it was decided that Emma would take a bus back to Chicago and I would take public transport home, shipping a few large boxes home. I got myself some bus and plane tickets, and then I had the task of getting someone to take the car from me. I had a hard time accepting that this would be the last time I could see Wombat. Here is a portrait in honor of a dutifully done job as long as Wombat was healthy. Without him, I would not have made it to the Pacific Ocean. Without him, I would not have hiked to many peaks in the western states. Without him, I would not have taken a journey that put me out of my comfort zone to try new things and see new places.
 |
| Goodbye, Wombat |
The rain let up as I started to go to the bus station, and I got talking with the crazy guy at the gas station where the bus stopped. I was the only person getting on that night. Being a nighttime bus, there were many people sleeping on board, so I figured I would do the same, since I was on for a few hours anyway. I admit, even as a driving enthusiast, it was nice to have someone else in charge of my getting around for a change. Time to relax and know that things are headed the way you need to go.
I got into Billings at 12:30am. The driver had taken my license as collateral for the ticket that I was supposed to get at the depot in Billings. He must have been tired because he gave me my license back and my bags were waiting for me, so...I just left. I like to consider that a frugal move.
Next stop, Billings Regional Airport. My flight plan was a bit convoluted, since I was to fly to Seattle before flying to Boston. I was told it was very much uphill to the airport from the bus station. It was. It's even more uphill when you look like a pack mule with three backpacks, heading up over the bluff at 2 in the morning. I think it was a few miles or so. I thought it was neat looking back at the city lights since I was above it all. I had to wait an unreasonable amount of time for my flight. I arrived at the airport at 2:30am or so, and my flight was at 6pm the next evening. I tried to get some sleep in the not-at-all-dark airport with crappy music playing. Glad I had my sleeping bag and a pillow with me. I tried to drown out the bad music with my ipod, but I just ended up falling asleep due to exhaustion. Eight AM. People start milling about, and even though I had found a nice corner with a plant to crash for the night, I was unhappy to be woken up, but more relieved that someone didn't ask me to move somewhere else during the night.
With bags checked, I hung out in the terminal. Planes are kinda fun when TSA isn't a bitch to you. Luckily I did not have any explosives or whiskey with me that would cause issues. Minutes before departure time, the plane arrived, and here she is:
 |
| My chariot west to Seattle! |
Flying west over the Cascades was something I really enjoyed, since it was cloudy when I had driven east through them days before. Nothing like snowy peaks in June.
I arrived in Seatac with a 2 hour layover. It was strange to be in a place with so many other people at once. After being almost exclusively on my own for most of 8 weeks, this was a shocker.
While getting a bite to eat, I saw this map of the airport and found some interesting errors. Can you see what's wrong? (Hint: the error is in yellow.)
Okay, fine...if you didn't find it, the bathroom sign to the left of Security Checkpoint 5 is upside down. You can only use the toilets if you orient yourself upside down first.
For the first time in my flying history, I was not placed at a window seat. But an aisle seat was good for stretching out, considering it was an overnight flight. Respect goes to those who fly over the time zones frequently, because I was getting all messed up. Mountain Time in MT, then Pacific Time a few hours later, and then soon on my way to Eastern Time.
I don't recall much of what happened on the plane, likely because I slept most of the way. Having someone do all the vehicle controlling is great because you can sleep during dark or boring parts of the journey. Compared to my 800+ mile day from Indiana to Arkansas where I had to be conscious the whole time...that was a drag at the end.
I remember waking up once during the flight to see the stunning red, orange, and blue glow in a perfectly clear sky across on the opposite side of the aircraft. This is why it would be awesome to be the pilot on overnight flights. You get to fly into the sunrise every flight you make eastward. I soon fell back asleep, and awoke near the landing time in Boston.
It felt strange to be in a place that I had been before. Familiarity was something I was unfamiliar with, ironically. I was ready for it though. My time away had been just long enough. I accomplished my goals. My goals were to leave home long enough to want to come back. I was getting tired of home. The road trip allowed me to occupy my mind with something else, and at the same time get to see many new places, all at my own pace, and at my discretion.
From Boston, I was to take a bus up to Bangor, where I would be excitedly greeting by my parents. Even after sleeping in the plane, I felt very tired, and surprise...I ended up sleeping for some of the bus trip into Maine. After my transfer in Portland, I ended up watching a movie without sound on the screens up above. It was called The Trip, oddly enough. Without sound, I was able to pick out that it was about a couple of British friends who went on a trip in a Range Rover, meeting up with different people along the way as they stayed at B&Bs. There was some hiking involved as well. I'd be curious to watch it with sound some day.
I was shocked at how much a recognized the area. This probably seems normal to people, but coming home after an extended period was just such a strange experience for me. More dramatic than returning from a trimester at college. I was very excited to look up a road signs and know the cities and towns like the back of my hand. This was something I hadn't done in several months. Very fun when you're out of practice.
The meeting of the parents in Bangor was quite exhilarating. It is amazing how distancing yourself for awhile can indeed make things much better. I was very happy to be in a familiar place, and finally not so alone. I learned how to be alone on my road trip. Sometimes it is great and healthy. But I think most people need some interaction with family or friends once in awhile. I was happy to have spent a few weeks with Noah on my trip, and a week with Emma as well. But I am equally happy to have spent some more time on my own, able to explore and make my own decisions without cross-checking with a road trip buddy.
I think this is the end of my writing about the Great Road Trip of 2015. Sorry about the lack of pictures during this last part. Taking pictures is something you think of more when things are going well. Not so much with things go....not as planned.
I'd like to thank those who followed this trip in part, or in whole. It was nice to know that people were out there caring about my wellbeing from afar. If you have or haven't done a trip like this, I highly recommend trying it if you can get the time for it. it was exceptionally healing for me, as well as broadening my horizons, literally and figuratively. Now that I have been bitten by the travel bug, I will try to infect all of you as well! :)
Oh - here's the final map of events thus far:
 |
| 59 Days, 11k+ miles by car, 173 miles hiked, a few more by plane, a few more by bus. |
No comments:
Post a Comment