As mentioned in Pt 1, I originally planned to return back home via some more mountain biking, in places like Durango CO, and St George UT. Well, since cycling was very, very much impossible, I had to re-evaluate my options. So, after returning to the car after DNF’ing my race, changing into dry clothes, having a commiseration coffee, and a toasted sandwich, I started on the rather long drive north to Lincoln, Nebraska to see some old friends.

I had heard that the Ozark region was really quite pretty, though after watching the TV series, I’m more worried about heroin dealers, and part-time casino gangsters. The view from the drive was quite pretty, so I’m sure the areas away from the massive interstates were even prettier.

It wasn’t just the Ozarks that I skipped past, but also Kansas City – however, I couldn’t really think of anything I actually wanted to see in KC, I just thought I should have visited since I was driving past.

The drive was a major, major struggle, and I had to stop twice for energy drinks (thank-you, Bang!). I was well into the second book of the Three Body Problem trilogy (even if that isn’t its official series title), and while the thought of an audiobook might put some to sleep, I was so captivated by the storyline I managed to push on through (but, maybe it was the hero dose of caffeine).

I made it to Lincoln just before sunset, and caught up with Crystal and Jacob. We haven’t seen each other since 2012, but it hadn’t really felt like such an enormous span of time had passed. We went and got a (surprisingly good) curry, and then caught a live concert. We caught these femme rockers, Plush, who were killing it, as well as Mammoth, a project by Van Halen’s son (it had its moments).

The caffeine had well and truly worn off by the end of the show, and the pain in my ribs had really intensified today. I was starting to think that attempting to join the race this morning might not have been my smartest idea… Still, we were riding around town on bikes, and I just grimaced through the pain. 

I passed out, and the next memory was waking in the middle of the night in true agony. Like, struggling to take a breath, move, or do anything kind of pain. Yet, somehow I was tired enough that I kept dozing off. 

Day 10

Somehow I felt rested, despite thinking I was awake all night. I tried calling my health provider (Kaiser) to get some opinions about next actions – I’ve broken ribs before, and I know the only real course of action is pain medication, and rest. I was hoping they would be able to write up a prescription for a stronger pain killer, however they just suggested that I go to a local ER for an x-ray. When pressed about payment, they just answered that I should bring the receipts home, and they would assess then… I rephrased my question, confirming that they would reimburse me for the costs of the x-rays, only to get the same response that I should bring the receipts back, and that they would assess the claim. I’d been living in the US for a few years at that point, and it was my first experience at just how difficult/confusing/expensive health care here could be. This was sadly not my first (or second) rodeo, and knowing that an x-ray of my ribs wouldn’t really change anything, I didn’t want to waste my time (and more importantly, my money).


Jacob had to go to work early (yay for hospitality and Sunday brunches), but Crystal and I went and explored the red bricks of Lincoln downtown, and then had brunch at Hub Cafe, Jacob’s restaurant.

Post brunch, I was blown away by the ridiculous size of their college football stadium – 70,000 seats! For a college football team!! I feel like sports stadiums in Australia for professional teams are smaller – and that is in cities of millions of people. I was actually pretty disappointed not to be able to have caught a game while I was there, it must be a truly wild atmosphere…

Downtown Lincoln was quite pretty, and cooler than I had really expected a little town in Nebraska to be. While walking/laughing/moving was painful, it was still a joy to explore the artistic side of the city with Crystal.

All this talk of how sore my ribs were would make you think that I’d have learnt a lesson. But, when I had the opportunity to go on a little bike ride with Crystal and Jacob, I kinda felt like I had to. Thankfully it was nice, flat, and smooth. Actually, there wasn’t a hill to be seen in any direction out here!

Day 11

It was time to say goodbye to my old friends, and to continue my journey westward. Now that mountain biking was taken off the table, I had to pivot to a different return route. Well, I didn’t have to, but, I might as well make the most of the opportunity to be driving through some places that are far from home. The new rough plan was to drive up to Yellowstone, and to pick up a few other sights along the way, including Mt. Rushmore.

I can’t say I really knew much about Nebraska before my visit, but had thought that it was going to be quite agricultural. And agricultural is what it turned out to be. Horizon to horizon of cornfields. And then, when you reach that horizon, a new horizon of cornfields. The one thing I hadn’t expected were the enormous coal trains. And, for the rest of the day, it was basically more of those two things. 

Thankfully I’d been given the suggestion to take the more scenic option, rather than the faster and flatter Interstate 80. Towards the end of the day, as I started getting closer to South Dakota, the landscape started to be smaller rolling hills. These hills got larger, and more frequent, and interspersed were small lakes. It was getting less agricultural (or at least, less industrial scale agriculture) and more scenic.


This was about the only tourist attraction along my ~800 km of driving today. There was a small description about it, posing not the question on why it was built, but why not. Hard to poke holes in that logic, and at least it was only a week of their time burying and welding cars into a small field.

Supposedly it’s a fully working replica of the British Stonehenge site, with the same Solstice operations as the original. 

I carried on with the driving, finally stopping just before dark in the south of South Dakota. The problem with stopping in smaller towns is the dinner options. I had a choice of Dairy Queen or Pizza Hut. Having never been to DQ before, I was curious. It was meh, and at least that curiosity has been scratched.

Day 12

Things were decidedly colder and much greyer outside now. I wasn’t far from Mt. Rushmore, and with little else to do here, I was up and on the road a little after sunrise. While only a (very long) day’s drive from Lincoln, it was a very different feel to the area now. There were forests of pine, and all sorts of wooden shacks decorated with the skulls of various animals. It felt much more Frontier than the rest of the trip had done.

Mt. Rushmore

On the way to Mt. Rushmore, I could see a giant carving of what looked like a face on a mountain. It was indeed, and not a figment of a hyperactive mind fuelled on Bang! Energy drink. I didn’t have any mobile reception, so I made a plan to read more about it this evening. I briefly considered driving in to visit the (very much incomplete) sculpture, but also didn’t want to spend $12 to enter just to take a few photos, so continued on to Mt. Rushmore. Obviously, these aren’t my photos, in case the blue sky fooled you.

Well, little did I know, even with a National Parks Pass, entry to Mt. Rushmore is not free. Actually, strike that. Entry is free, but it costs $10 to park. And, there were no real other options to get there other than driving in and parking, it might as well be an entrance fee.

But, before that, the drive to the park got pretty. Real pretty, with granite hills, pockets of snow, and beautiful little lakes. It was also really cold.

Anyway, back to Mt. Rushmore, after the annoyance of having to pay what amounted to an entrance fee, I joined the flow of heavily layered tourists, jealous that they had their winter clothing with them. Me, being smart, didn’t plan to come to subzero temperatures, and certainly did not plan to spend time outdoors in those temperatures. Thankfully I did have some long pants, and my light down and a raincoat for the winds. If you’re going to be dumb, you’d better be tough.

Mt. Rushmore is one of those sights that is so iconic, like the Eiffel Tower, or the Tower of Pisa, that finally seeing it in the flesh is a strange experience. You have this idea of size/perspective from seeing other photos, but seeing it yourself is very different. I would flip between the sculptures seeming enormous, and being quite small. Due to the distance that you view the cliff face from, it really was difficult to get a sense of scale. It would have been one of those things that having binoculars would have really improved the sense of scale. The heads are only about 18m (60’) tall

Later in the evening, when I had mobile reception again, I got curious about Crazy Horse and Mt. Rushmore, and well, it wasn’t a particularly surprising tale. The mountainous lands (The Black Hills) were promised to the Sioux, but after gold was found in them thar hills, the US government reneged. Mt. Rushmore was an important mountain to the Sioux, and on it was carved the giant faces of four US presidents that hadn’t really been super stellar to the plight of the native Americans. And, now, on a site that was significant to them are four giant faces to remind them of that history. Forever. On land that they still are fighting for ownership of. Adding further intrigue/outcry, the original visions for the sculpture apparently were to be of heroes of the American west, including some native Americans, but the sculpture (who was said to have ties to KKK) decided instead to carve these particular presidents.

The Crazy Horse monument was actually started back in the late 1940s, and is still not even close to completion. When (if) completed it will be some 120m (400’) tall!!


I loved the TV series, with all its foul mouthed characters of the gold rush frontier town. I didn’t actually know at the time that it was based on a real town, with real people and events! Wild Bill Hickock, Bullock, Swearengen etc. So, obviously, when I saw that it was nearby, I made a detour to walk around the old town.

It turned out to be more of an Old Street, and even then, it was inhabited by casinos and kinda tacky souvenir shops – the Trump merchandise definitely reminded me that I was far from California. Actually, speaking of, I wish I’d taken a few photos of them, because they were kind of amazing, in a tacky and ridiculous way.

It was cool seeing the names of the characters of the show (which, I guess you could really say, names of the historic people) on various buildings and signs around town. 

But, the weather was miserable, I wasn’t dressed for cold/wet, and after a little walk up/down the main street, completely uninterested in going inside the casinos, bars, or souvenir stores, I realised there wasn’t much else for me to do here.

Devils Tower

It was just a short drive before entering Wyoming. There has always been something mystical and mysteriously enticing about Wyoming to me. It seemed like the wildest of states in the US – at least amongst the Lower 48 states. It was cold, grey, windswept, and had a feeling of being uninhabited. At least on first appearances, it was living up to the concept in my mind.

The rains of Deadwood eased, but the fog rolled in hard, and temperatures dropped even further. Fog is great, I love the fog here in San Francisco, it’s moody and dramatic. However, it’s also terrible for visibility when you’re a tourist. Sadly, I was currently a tourist, and I couldn’t see shit.

Devils Tower is a strange volcanic plug that juts up out of the ground – I think. I couldn’t really see anything. I’d get occasional glimpses of a dark shape that rose up into the sky, and I could see what looked like thousands and thousands of hexagonal-ish columns at the base – like the Giant’s Causeway in Ireland, except in the shape of a skyscraper, rather than a footpath. I walked around the butte, and I couldn’t really see much beyond the mass of boulders that crumbled off the tower over time immemorial.

There was a battle of wills – with the weather freezing my hands and feet, and my mind trying to make the fog clear. It didn’t clear, and I returned to the car, freezing and defeated.

I continued driving, and the weather continued to deteriorate. I had plans of driving to just outside of the Eastern entrance to Yellowstone (Cody), but, looking at the travel times, as well as the weather predictions, I’d be driving for at least two-hours in the dark, as well as crossing two mountain passes in what was forecast to be mixed sleet/snow.

My phone kept buzzing with Winter Storm warnings, as well as the car giving me warnings about an icy road. I was in a front-wheel drive car, with summer tyres, and no chains. Logic got the better of me, so I called it a day in Buffalo.

Day 13

I was pretty anxious about the snow storms that were forecast overnight, but I woke to a clear, but frosty ground. In hindsight, it might have been smarter to have kept driving last night, rather than starting early this morning, as temperatures were unquestionably much lower now, and things were likely to be icy. But, at the time, I was expecting heavy snow, and a risk of getting stuck.

I was up and driving before sunrise, one of the benefits of a lack of things to do of an evening, and discomfort sleeping. I would have been safer, and more prudent to wait a little later to let the temperatures warm up the roads, but it looked pretty good outside. 

Of course, stupid me, I didn’t realise just how big the mountain passes that lay ahead of me through Bighorn National Forest. The road climbed to over 3,000m (10k’), and temperatures outside dropped to -7c. The roads were icy, but thankfully freshly ploughed and with a fresh layer of grit. The roads were empty, so I just chugged along slowly, slowly, making small gentle movements.

The scenery was beautiful, I just wish I wasn’t driving white-knuckled in a state of terror, ready to react to any loss of traction. I still remember the sense of relief when I passed back below the snow and ice line. I was glad to have driven it during the daylight at least.

The scenery continued to be beautiful, with distant mountains, and very little signs of human development. I mean, other than the thousands and thousands of oil wells.


I was actually really happy that I entered Yellowstone from the East, as the entrance is through a narrow gorge that opens up to big vistas of mountains beyond a large lake. I mean, I had no idea what the other entrances were like, but I just like to think that this is the most dramatic. 

Other than the mountains, and the lake, there were also the last remnants of the yellow autumn hues on the trees. While I wasn’t at the main geyser area, there was already the smell of sulphur in the air. 

I hadn’t quite comprehended the size of the park, and the driving distances from one side, to the other, were significant! Driving was slow, and it was only made worse by drivers parking in the middle of roads to take photos, or other kinda dumb things. It was also a lot more pine forest, and lakes than I had been expecting. It was far from dreary, but it wasn’t really the most exceptional of scenery. It’s not fair, but I tend to compare everything to Yosemite.

The thing that comes to mind for me with Yellowstone is the thermal geysers and pools, so that was the first stop. I arrived near Ol’ Faithful, but had missed the eruption by 10 mins, which gave me at least 30 mins to kill waiting for the next showing – a nice opportunity to actually eat something. I know it’s called “Ol’ Faithful” due to the dependability of the eruptions, but I was still kind of surprised that they have a printed daily schedule of times for the day. The schedule had it going off at 15:33 ± 0:10, but, it didn’t blow until 15:51! 

Again, I don’t know why, but I had been expecting it to be a little more “violent”, or at least some kind of earth rumbling and tremors, followed by explosive bursts of water. What it ended up being was a few little false spurts, followed by one much larger, and almost more steam than water – it reminded me of when a car damages a fire hydrant, except it only lasts for 10-20 seconds. And smells like sulphur.

With the main show over, I went for a walk to see Morning Glory. There was a nice network of boardwalks and trails, which passed by loads of other smaller thermal pools and geysers. After so many days sitting in the driver’s seat of the van, it was nice to walk around a little.

If I wasn’t already labelled a Debbie Downer, this might push me over the edge. With the overcast skies, and the frigid air temperatures, it wasn’t possible to see much of the prismatic colours of the spring. I mean, it was there, if you concentrated, but it wasn’t really something that photographed particularly well today. Seeing it from a higher vantage point would certainly have made for richer viewing, but these springs were like a Bermuda Triangle for drones, with significant fines for attempting to fly here, and much larger ones for recovery/removal of your crashed drone from the pool. Anyway, I would have another chance tomorrow. I had been offline all day, so I didn’t know if the weather was going to improve or not, but no harm in visiting again.

Not having mobile reception, I didn’t really know where I could go for tonight’s accommodation. There was a small town just outside the western entrance to the park, creatively named “West Yellowstone”. I gave it a shot, got cellular reception, booked a cheap (comparatively) hotel, and had a big burger in a kinda cheesy dinner. This town definitely exists to cater to tourists that come to visit the park, with all sorts of tacky souvenirs and themed restaurants and other entertainment experiences to keep a family occupied for a few evenings.

Day 14

As luck would have it, it was going to be clear/sunny today. It was a 1hr drive from the hotel back to the park entrance, but I was up and driving in the subzero temperatures well before sunrise. 


It didn’t take long to run into a traffic jam, which considering the time of day, I was truly surprised. It turned out that we were being swamped by a herd of buffalo, with them walking down the middle of the road as though they owned the place. I considered honking, or explaining to them their selfishness, but I was already getting the side-eye treatment from them.

But, seriously, it was magical. I pulled over into a parking lot, and just watched these giant beasts walk on by. There is a (very small) herd of buffalo in San Francisco’s Golden Gate Park, but they’ve always been far away in their paddock, so getting a sense of scale hasn’t been possible. Seeing them here within petting distance, with their truly enormous heads, and eyes the size of a cue ball, it was hard to believe that traditional indigenous hunters were able to take them down.

The herd eventually passed by, doing buffalo herd things, so I also continued on with my morning to do road-tripping tourist things.

The light was beautiful, with long shadows, and steam rising from the warm water into the frigid air.

I had a few moments the previous evening to read up on the sights of the park, and learnt that it too had its own version of a Grand Canyon, complete with a Grand View and an Inspiration Point. I parked, and took a short hike along the rim of the canyon, again, enjoying the opportunity to stretch the legs/lungs a little. The trails were a little muddy/icy in places, and the views were pretty, but it was the solitude, and sounds of distant roaring water that really made it an enjoyable little walk.

On its own right, it was quite a beautiful scene, but drawing parallels to the Grand Canyon really made it appear miniscule. Not quite a Miniscule Canyon, more like a Mid Canyon if we’re going for accuracy. Still, to me it was a pleasant surprise to see it here, as it seems to pop out of nowhere. It was worth the minor detour to drive to the other side of the park to enjoy it – especially that final view down the length of the canyon from Inspiration Point.

Driving back through the park to re-visit the Grand Prismatic springs, I came across another, large herd of buffalo grazing to the side of the road. This time it had a slightly more scenic backdrop. Thankfully there was a safe place to pull over to photograph and just enjoy watching them for a few minutes. The geysers, springs, and canyon of the park were pretty, but I think the highlight for me has been enjoying the herds of buffalo.

Even though I’d started the day before sunrise, it was now after midday. I was hoping with the clear sunny skies, and the overhead sunlight that we’d get more colour and vibrancy from the Grand Prismatic spring. The parking area was nearly maxed, and I could only imagine what it must be like here on weekends during summer. While there was definitely more colour today, there also seemed to be more steam obstructing the view.

Occasionally there would be a gust of wind that would blow the steam away and I would get tantalisingly close to seeing more of the colour, but it always seemed just out of reach and shrouded. The spring is enormous though, at a guess 20m in diameter. I just couldn’t help thinking how nice it would be to have had an elevated platform to better enjoy the view… I’ll send in some feedback requesting one.

While I wasn’t able to really appreciate the main attraction, some of the other smaller neighbouring springs were pretty, and in their own right could have been star attractions in other parks.

Grand Tetons

It was getting late, and I knew that I still had a very long day’s driving ahead of me. I headed towards the park’s south exit, which took me down towards the Grand Tetons. I’ve seen them photographed, and in film, but my gosh, the first time I caught a clear sight of them, seemingly rising out of a flat beach, I was just mesmerised. As far as natural scenery, this far exceeded anything I’d experienced in Yellowstone. They seemed so out of place, rising out of nothing, and as sharp and serrated as any mountain I’d seen before. This was the closest I’ve experienced to the Chamonix mountains in the US.

I continued driving south, towards Jackson’s Hole, which is a place I’ve wanted to visit for decades, since watching early Teton Gravity Research skiing films shot in the area. The drive was incredibly distracting, and I had to fight the urge to pull over for photos every few corners as a new angle presented itself to me.

Though, I did have to pull over for one of the cliched photos of the horses with the Tetons looming in the background.

I briefly walked around the base of Jackson’s Hole, and now more than ever wished that I could ride my bike. There seemed to be a whole network of bike trails that spread out from here, and there was nothing I wished I could be doing more than riding them. I did remind myself that if I hadn’t hurt my ribs, I wouldn’t have made the detour so far north to visit in the first place, so I was lucky to at least have gotten a very small peek at the area. I really, really, really hope to come back with bikes some day. It was like NZ – just with bears and cowboys.

Oh, fun fact – I learnt that Tèton is French for nipple (teat). I couldn’t look at the Tetons the same way afterwards.

It was getting late in the day, and I couldn’t afford to stay here in the village, so there was going to be some driving ahead of me. The cheapest accommodation I could find were in Idaho Falls, some 2hrs drive away. 

I’d barely eaten all day, other than some muesli bars, and a basic sandwich, so was absolutely ravenous by dinner time. Considering I was in a mid-sized town in Idaho, I had zero expectations for dinner – especially not for tacos. But, after devouring the first four to vocal sounds of moaning and gluttonous enjoyment, I had to go back for more. Maybe it was the hunger speaking, or maybe this little restaurant/bar was actually a gem.

Day 15

I could hear the sounds of rushing water all night, but was too tired and food-comatose to bother looking. Once again, with nothing much else to do in the evenings, I was up early and walking about, and along the waterfront of Snake River. I was familiar with the river where it passes through what is supposed to be stunning scenery in Eastern Oregon, and it really blew my mind how far this mighty, and kinda unknown, river flowed.

If you’d asked me anything about Idaho, I’d have said “Potatoes” and that River Phoenix/Keanu Reeves movie (My Own Private Idaho) about some heroin addicts in Portland. I knew roughly where it was in the US, but with the potato connection, I just expected it to be flat plains, like Nebraska.

I couldn’t have been more wrong – it felt like driving through the valleys of Switzerland, with rolling hills of vibrant green pastoral land, surrounded by distant snow capped peaks. It was truly beautiful, and potentially more so as it had been so unexpected.

I was getting to that stage of this trip that I just wanted to be home, and I was starting to get within a day’s drive away. I was tired from the long days of solo driving, and looked forward to returning to my bed. So, with that in mind, I hadn’t really spent much energy looking for side attractions to check out as I passed through.


Other than visiting some of the filming locations of Napoleon Dynamite! As luck had it, I re-watched it with my friends in Lincoln last weekend. I did a drive-by of his house, as well as his high school, and while I did feel like a creeper taking photos of someone’s private house (especially on such a quiet and remote dirt road), I’m sure I’m not the first to have done so – though, I guess it happens less and less these days… 

Salt Lake City

Preston wasn’t much more than a short detour, and soon I was back at it, driving south. I had been curious with Salt Lake City, partly due to watching another movie – SLC Punks. As I parked and started to walk through downtown, I realised I had honestly not remembered much from that movie…

So, I explored a little of the Downtown with an open (empty) mind. It surprised me in a few ways, first was just how young the population looked, and second was how many homeless I saw on the streets – it was nothing like San Francisco, not even close, but after two weeks of almost seeing no one living rough on the streets, it was a little shock.

I started by finding a hipster coffee shop, since they are usually in a more vibrant neighbourhood, and then made my way through the city to look at the Mormon temple – which was sadly closed, and undergoing renovations. I didn’t know much about the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, other than what the South Park creators had taught me. Oh, and that they don’t drink caffeine. 

There is still something that makes me curious about SLC, but it’s possible it’s just due to it being near some mountains. But, for now, it was nearly 3PM, and I was ready to keep it rolling.

I had really wanted to take the scenic drive via Highway 50, aka, The Loneliest Highway in America, but there weren’t really going to be any (affordable last minute) hotel options along the route, and I’d be driving most of it in the dark at the current rate. So, instead, I hunkered down, and took the faster, and far less scenic Highway 80. Side note: As luck would have it, I got to drive out/back along HWY 50 on another trip, and it was sublime.

That’s not to say there wasn’t anything scenic – it did skirt past the giant salt lakes that SLC is named for, including Bonneville. It was possible drive on out onto the dried out lakes, but I didn’t fancy taking my chances taking a minivan out there, when every other vehicle was a large 4WD, or an ATV. It kinda looked a little chaotic, even with the vast scales.

Much like the Tetons, I loved seeing these rocky mountains shooting up from flat plains.

I avoided HWY 50 due to the lack of hotel options, however, there weren’t all that many more options this way. The drive was long, flat, straight, and had honestly started to become a struggle to concentrate. The highway has a 80mph (130kph) limit, and it was a little terrifying driving that speed in the darkness, and into the headlights of large oncoming trucks. That fear and concentration was exhausting for me. But, I was starting to near the end of the third book in the Three Body Problem, which was keeping me captivated and alert.

It was close to 9PM when I rolled into the low-key neon lights of Winnemucca. I couldn’t work out if I found it a little charming to see the old school casinos and neon lights, or just depressing. A little of both I think. I later learnt that there is a significant Basque presence, but it certainly didn’t stand out to me in the short time I spent driving up and down ‘the strip’ looking for food and a bed.

It’s funny looking back on the photos, as it seems so boring/plain. Maybe I was delirious.

Day 16

Once again, I was up before sunrise, and starting on the day’s drive. It was a little nerve wracking to see the windscreen of the car coated in a thick layer of ice, as well as patches of ice/snow in the car park of the hotel. As it became lighter, I could see that there was a nice dusting of snow higher up on the hills. I was getting a little more nervous as I knew that I was headed towards a snow storm around Lake Tahoe, and I still had to cross the Donner Pass. There had been a not insignificant amount of fresh snow there overnight. And while it was currently open, if things deteriorated, I would be stuck on the wrong side of The Sierras.

I caught up with an old friend that had relocated to Reno, and honestly, the lifestyle there sounded pretty ideal. I didn’t have time to really check out the city, but it sounds like it’s up-and-coming, affordable, and great access to The Outdoors®. It also gave the Donner Pass time to be cleared/salted/warmed up.

As I left Reno, and started to climb the pass, the light rains got heavier and heavier. It soon turned to slushy sleet, and far too quickly turned into heavy wet snow. The sides of the road were blanketed in a thick layer of snow, but thankfully the road, while buried in a nice layer of slush, remained safe to drive on.

It was with great relief to cross over to the otherside of the pass, knowing it was all downhill from here. Even if it also meant entering the Bay Area traffic combined with heavy rains, which was stressful after two weeks of driving on mostly orderly and somewhat empty motorways. Actually, it’s always stressful driving here, and it took driving in other parts of the country to really remind me of that.


By the time I got home it was nearly 5PM. I unloaded, unpacked, and sat exhausted in my apartment for a few hours before passing out in my own bed while listening to the last chapters of my audiobook series. I was thankful that today was Saturday, and I had a full day to rest, stretch, clean, and recover for a return to work in the office on Monday.

It had been a phenomenal little adventure, most of it planned with only the broadest of strokes.