Rockin' time

SALT LAKE CITY, UTAH - July 25 -- I had never taken a lesson in rock climbing and had never seen it done in person. But there I was, being taught how to belay from a professional guide in Moab. After Brian, who had taken a college course in rock climbing, was done making it to the top of the 80-foot climb, I strapped the equipment around me to begin ascending. I only made it halfway to the top before succumbing to defeat. I felt pretty pathetic. Scott made me feel better though, telling me he was impressed on how well I did without ever trying the sport before. It was a little disappointing for me at the time, but looking back it was one of the highlights of the summer.

It's the west, so we can't walk or else we could die. We made signs - 'Heading West?' I thought we should've been more hip and written, 'Headin', but nevertheless we sat with our sign off the side of the road by a hotel near the outside of town. There was no action for an hour and a half, so we headed back into town where we picked up a couple of padlocks to lock our stuff up as we roamed around. A guy at the counter made a comment that we must be rich to be able to travel across America. It was an ironic statement because our funds are nearly depleted.

Scott and Amanda were waiting off the side of the road. They asked what we were up to and eventually invited us back to their house. We all hung out for about fifteen minutes before they had to go back to work.

'Okay, guys, I'll be back in about an hour, just pop in a movie if you want,' Scott said.

Brian and I were all alone in their house, watching Anchorman, a movie who's lines have monopolized our conversations at times during the summer. Scott soon came back and had us trail him in his 5-speed Subaru so he could return his work vehicle. We had only known each other for a short period of time, and he was already trusting us completely.

He brought us to a free dinner later that evening that a group of locals put on every night in the town park. The small group was dynamic, with older men mingling with younger guys and girls. There was a sense of passion for the outdoors that was hard to resist because of the warm vibe. 

***

They call it 'dumpster diving.' Going through the garbage of local businesses who throw out food that expired that day.

'We probably eat better now after we started dumpster diving because we eat whatever produce they throw out so it gives us a better balance,' Amanda said.

Once a store gets a new shipment of fruits or vegetable, they put all the old food in a box and throw it in a dumpster out back. There's nothing wrong with the food except it's not as fresh as the new shipment. Even packaged food is thrown out if the expiration date has passed. We snagged a bag of rolls that expired the same day as the dive. It may not sound like the most glamorous of ways to gather food for dinner, but after seeing how well it worked, I feel like a sucker for spending money on the same food they get for free.

Throughout this trip we have lived the lifestyle of many people, but none that viewed life with such simplicity. Scott and Amanda's passion was to be outdoors, rock/ice climb as often as they could and live with limited complications. 

Scott told us of Moab, 'It's a hard place to get rich, but an easy place to get by.'

-DC

The young and the westless

MOAB, UTAH – July 23 – I was wide awake for it being only 7:45 a.m. Getting dropped off at a gas station in a town of barely over 1,000 people in the heart of West Texas will do that to you, I suppose.

It may seem like something always works out on this journey, but before it does, we are left feeling vulnerable, intimidated and doubtful that our serendipity will kick in. 

We threw our bags down and formed a game plan on a bench.

'Okay, how about this. I'll take a loop around the Flying J and see what's going on,' I proposed to Denny. 'You watch the bags. Cool?'

'Cool.'

I returned with the following valuable information:

'Okay, there's a sweet section for truckers to hang out that's completely empty. The chairs look pretty comfortable. And then there's a bunch of booths with outlets.'

'Sweet.'

We found a booth to our liking. Denny began to work on the blog while I played a round of Big Buck Hunter in the game room while building up the courage to participate in the day's lesson of humility.

'Okay, I'll sit out there for a couple hours while you work,' I told Denny. 'Wish me luck.'

I debated making a sign from cardboard. What should it say? Heading west? Have room for a couple more? Please help?

I skipped the sign, placed my bag strategically on the ground against a pillar so the padding would provide a comfortable hangout and pulled out the Time 100 most influential people in the world edition. I picked up where I left off - Baitullah Mehsud - and prepared for a long game of waiting.

Denny and I learned a slang term on the Appalachian Trail called 'yogiing.' It means asking without asking. Professional 'hinting at' in a way. It's not about taking advantage of people, but simply planting ideas in their heads that their help could be of great importance.

I will admit we are getting good at this, but we only reserve it for times of desperation. I was fully prepared to break out necessary techniques on this morning as I stared into the monotonous, dull landscape of West Texas. 

I tried to concentrate on the magazine, but my attention span gave out at Ashfaq Kayani. I traded it in for my journal and tried to express my thoughts in ink.

Middle of nowhere...mid July...sitting on my belongings...at a gas station...in Texas...kind of funny...kind of sh**ty...

'What the hell am I doing with my life?' was the final note I would write that day.

***

I noticed a 30-year-old woman, four children ages 2-7 and a dog unload from a van that had just pulled up. Obviously Denny and I would not be invited to this party, but the sight broke me away from my frustrations. The children had a bounce to them that would make anyone smile. The mother followed behind the troop and caught eyes with me.

'Got your hands full, huh?' I said from my floor seat, trying to spark up my first conversation since parting ways with Denny.

She gave a polite acknowledgement and proceeded to let the dog pee in the grassy area. I put my pen back to paper, but no profound thoughts released from my mind. The family passed back by, and this time the woman stopped to chat. I'm not sure what people think when they approach us. Do they feel sorry? Or does the curiosity of our story just get to them?

I explained to Nancy that my friend was inside the gas station, and that we had hiked quite a bit in the east, but with the cities being so spread out in the west, we were looking to head toward the pacific without risking disaster in the desert.

I didn't say too much more before she offered - 'Well we're going to El Paso. I'd have to move some stuff around, but I'm sure we could make room for ya.'

El Paso was 445 miles to the west. I trust nearly everyone I meet, but my brain wouldn't let me believe her at first.

'Are you serious?' was all that came out.

'Yeah, if you want.'

'Um yes, that would be so great. Thank you so much! I'm going to get Denny!'

I thanked her three more times and put her 7-year-old son, Dillon, in charge of watching my bag.

'Dude, pack up,' I said for effect.

Denny, concentrating hard on the screen in front of him, asked 'Why?'

'We're going to El Paso.'

'Are you serious?'

I nodded with emphasis.

'How'd you pull that off?'

'I have no idea.'

We packed up quicker than necessary, imagining the ride might be gone if we wasted a second. Denny introduced himself to Nancy. 

'You're not going to murder me, are you?' She asked, jokingly with a hint of serious.

What do you say in this situation to someone to comfort them? I can't remember what wise words we attempted to offer. Regardless, we piled in the van, introducing ourselves to our fellow passengers.

'Dillon forgot to watch your bag, so I watched it for you!' exclaimed six-year-old Skylar.

This led to a six-hour special of 'Kids Say the Darnedest Things.'

-'Smell my feet.'

-'Hey Danny? I love you.'

-'Mason is a Cheeto face.'

-'I want you guys to stay forever, but I know that you probably can't.'

-'Our cat is a boy cat because she has a wee-wee.'

-'I remember you. I met you when I was a baby. You held me.'

-'We're going to Texas!' (the trip began in Texas)

-'The house next door is empty. You could move in there!'

Denny played co-pilot the majority of the trip as I tried to entertain four kids who threatened to burst out of their seat belts and car seats with every move. I disposed of already-been-chewed gum and tissues covered in fresh boogers and pretended to smell the girls' feet when they promised they smelled like rainbows.

When the DVD player power cord began having issues (ironically we were watching Short Circuit) I thought I was in trouble. Denny MacGyver came to the rescue by using a hair tie and a pen cap to fix the situation. Everyone was happy again.

I reluctantly let every child handle our digital camera - worth more than everything left in our budget - after they broke out into an improv song begging to take videos and photos. They were too cute. The word 'no' vanished from my vocabulary.

I managed to drift off to sleep. The kids were very polite, allowing me to doze on one of their pillows for a while. As soon as my eyes cracked open, Kendall shouted - 'Can we do another wideo?' Of course she could.

I would say I played the role of babysitter, but the environment made me feel more like a kid. Denny bonded with Nancy in the front seat, then we switched spots for the final leg of the journey. I chatted with our savior of West Texas, ensuring her that although we may not have looked like it by hanging out at a gas station, we were in fact ambitious guys.

I stared out the window at nothing. There wasn't anything resembling a town for 100 miles. Had Nancy not come along, I might still be sitting on my bag.

***

I pulled my identification from my Eclipse gum packet to present it to the guard at the Military base in El Paso. Nancy, whose husband is in the Army, had invited us for dinner and said we could camp in the yard - which eventually led to camping on the bunk beds in Dillon's room.

The six-hour ride had not only had no hints of awkwardness, it was a blast. But once we pulled into the driveway and Nancy began explaining to her friends and neighbors that she had met these two guys at a gas station, Denny and I shifted uncomfortably. We knew who we were, Nancy and her kids had a good idea, but I suppose these people didn't.

Jessica, the neighbor across the street, began asking lots of questions. Most of our answers drew a laugh from her and something to the effect of, 'That's crazy!' 

Nancy mentioned to her good friend Liz that we might be interested in a ride up to Utah since Liz was moving to Salt Lake City the next day.

'We'll definitely have to discuss that later,' she said.

A few hours later, I found myself on a walk with Jessica and Liz, chatting like we had known each other more than a day. Jessica mentioned that the day was so crazy, she wanted to write a book about it. Liz mentioned that the odds for catching a ride with her in the morning looked good, just as long as she could clear enough space for a pair of wanderers.

Denny and I helped Nancy with a few things around the house - tidying the kitchen and moving some furniture around. We also cleaned out the entire van, removing dirty diapers, peeling suckers from the floor, vacuuming, and giving it a wash. We went to bed that night still uncertain of our fate the next day.

We played with the kids all morning and afternoon. While I worked on writing back some emails, Denny had an internship as Mr. Mom. He ran around the house finding band-aids for boo-boos, cleaning up the dog's poop, refilling cereal bowls, and being an all-around entertainer. While Denny worked on the blog, I had lunch duty, which was a bit simpler since all I did was heat up pizza for the youngsters who were fading due to the heat.

Mason got his head stuck in between the bunk bed and the wall on more than one occasion. Skylar and Kendall then got the idea that climbing on our shoulders would be the afternoon's main event. They agreed each time would be their last. This went on for hours. 

'When you get married, tell your wives you're waiting five years before having kids,' Nancy said.

It seemed like a whole lot of work. But I could see how much she loved them and what they meant to her. Hell, I was starting to love them. I was ready to go find a wife.

***

Utah was a go. Liz made us promise not to kill her.

'I promise you we'll be friends by the end of this,' I said.

About four minutes into the trip, I think we were. We laughed. A lot. At one point, Liz, who was having some medical issues, not to mention her husband had been deployed to the Middle East, let a few tears fall in front of us as she spoke passionately about her spirituality. We had only known Liz for a day, but we were sharing our deepest thoughts about religion, politics, and the very important subject of the opposite sex. People seem comfortable opening up to us. And we're comfortable having them do so. I just hope the things I say have some sort of substance.

Liz proposed the question, 'What drives you?' I've been thinking about it ever since, unable to come up with a definitive answer. She explained a program she designed, initially for Army wives, about the power of positive thinking. She explained that if you say the things you want to be as if they're currently happening, that it will work wonders for the psyche. 'I am a great wife,' she used as an example. Of course, that one didn't really work for Denny and I, but we got the point.

Liz didn't like to drive at night, and the giant storm above didn't help the scenario. We decided to grab a bite to eat at the only open restaurant in town - McDonald's. I ordered the two strangest things I saw on the menu - a Green Chile Double Cheeseburger and a Salsa Roja wrap.

'You can only get these in New Mexico,' I informed Denny and Liz as we chowed down. They took the comment in stride.

I saw Liz scanning the menu.

'Wait, did the woman at the counter tell you that you could only get these here?' she asked sincerely since she hadn't seen the info behind the counter.

She caught me at a bad moment as Dr. Pepper squirted from my nose. We all began laughing hard. 

'Did you just make that up?' she asked, boggled that anyone would do so.

I nodded my head, but couldn't get any words out. Finally...

'But I bet it's true.'

We checked into the Super 8. Liz suggested we all split a room since she would be afraid to be in one alone. I was glad she offered this because I didn't want to say anything, but I knew our budget was tight. Denny and I shared a bed, which is bigger than our tent, so we got to spread out a bit.

***

When I woke this morning, Liz had already gotten her breakfast and Denny was sound asleep. I walked down to the lobby to eat. On the way back upstairs, I paused, figuring a nice gesture would be to get Denny some food and bring it to him in the room. After 64 days on the road together, sometimes I worry we take our friendship for granted.

'I am a good friend,' I repeated in my mind. I think the power of positive thinking worked because Denny smiled, thanked me and wolfed down the food. It was the start to a great day.

We took photos out the car window of the amazing rock formations, endless skies and bright lightning bolts. Something about the west makes my heart beat with a bit more passion. Maybe it's the sense of freedom, thinking that maybe not everything has been discovered. I can't exactly describe the feeling, and those are the best kind in my opinion.

We told Liz to drop us in Moab - a town that has always infatuated me. I convinced Denny it would be a good place for us with its open-minded people, outdoor-friendly attitude and license plates from all the lower-48 states.

***

I had trouble wrapping my mind around the idea that we were in Utah a week after leaving New Orleans. This certainly wasn't the same trip as walking from town to town out east. The west was a different game, a tougher game in a way. We are simply playing by its rules, knowing that if we don't, there could be consequences.

It may be a different sort of adventure, but it's all part of the same journey of not knowing where each day might lead or who we might meet. The west is much different from the east, but it's all part of one incredible country.

-BT

Inked memories

EL PASO, TEXAS - JULY 22 -- I felt like a lion taking shelter from the heat as Brian and I lay underneath a tree that belonged in the Serengeti. A girl waved to us in the distance and approached us.

‘Do you guys like art?’ was her opening line.

‘Yeah,’ we replied. Kyra thumbed through her weathered folder of sketches and pulled out a few sheets. The drawings and situation reminded me of Napoleon Dynamite, but I tried being polite.

‘These are really good. I could never do anything like this,’ I said.

From her family’s campsite 20 feet away, her little sister shouted, ‘SHOW OFF!’

‘I thought I’d come over and talk to you guys since you looked bored just talking to each other.’ the 18-year-old said.

After 63 straight days together, it's very possible Brian and I might have been discussing our favorite flavor of Ramen noodle. But we happened to be in the middle of one of the best conversations we’ve had on the entire trip, talking about the growth we've had as individuals without the ability to pinpoint the moment it happened. We talked about how it's similar to knowing when it's time to get a haircut without being able to feel the hair growing from day-to-day.

She continued, ‘All the boys in Abilene have girlfriends. None of them are single. They don’t wave at me when I wave at them either.’

Awkward silence.

‘That’s a problem,’ Brian said as part of a conversation that grew more awkward by the second.

‘Do ya’ll have girlfriends?’

‘Yup,’ Brian responded, answering for me without blinking.

‘How long have you been together?’ Kyra asked Brian.

‘What is it…July?'

'Yep.'

'Nine months then.’ Brian said. His acting performance made Ben Affleck seem tolerable.

We tried to look around for an out, but only saw Kyra's family lingering in the near horizon.

Then came the line of the day -

‘Ya, my dad probably thinks I’m trying to have sex with you.'

'I hope not,' Brian said.

'It’s hard, ya know. There’s no single boys in Abilene and that’s why I go to Maine every summer. For boys and fishin'.’

‘You guys look muscular,’ she continued.

We informed her it was time for us to leave (a minor fib since we did have a ride coming at any second).

‘Well, can I at least get a birthday hug from you guys? I turn 19 next week,’ Kyra ended with.

We both gave her a hug and walked off. It would have been easy to dismiss her as just plain weird, but Kyra was a lonely girl more than anything. 

***

Brian was writing a new post in the lobby of the Super 8 motel when I struck up a conversation with Tina, the woman behind the front counter. We chatted for a little bit about how long she had been in Abilene (12 years) and why she moved from California (earthquake). On my way back from grabbing Brian and I a sandwich from subway, I handed Tina a bottle of green tea. I didn’t make a big deal of it and hadn’t thought about whether or not I should get it for her in the gas station. I just thought she’d enjoy it. Before this trip I would have never thought to do something like that, no matter how simple.

Tina dropped us off after work at a free camping spot. I’m pretty sure she was unaware of what goes on at that location because shortly after we parted ways, a man named Gary stopped his bright yellow car beside us and asked if we were okay with things getting ‘wild’ later on.

‘Wild?’ We asked. I thought he was talking about young kids out drinking beer or partying loud. Soon I would find out this was far from the circumstance.

Gary said, ‘Ya, people come around here and go cruisin'. I just thought I’d warn you that these parts can be wild at times. I go cruisin' at times around here and didn’t know if you guys were into that stuff.’

Still puzzled, we finally asked, ‘What do you mean by cruisin' and wild?’

He responded subtly but quickly, ‘Gays.’

Gary could sense we were oblivious to the fact our chosen campsite was a place for single men to meet after dark, so he drove us down the road a few miles to a spot we could be undisturbed - the place where we would meet Kyra.

***

Tina told us that her ex-husband, Benny, had offered Brian and I his backyard to pitch our tent in and was having a little BBQ we could be a part of. She informed us that people think he's a scary guy, but that he is actually really nice.

'Why do people think that?' Brian asked.

'Because he looks scary,' she said as we drove toward Benny's house.

We liked Benny right away.

He had a mix of Spanish and country music playing when we shook hands while his children swam in the pool and lit firecrackers leftover from the 4th of July.

Brian and I inhaled the meat, tortillas, corn, and asparagus Benny had made for his three kids and us, as he told tales of his walking trip from Mexico to California 25 years ago. He told Brian and I that even if we lose all of our notes, we'll remember our adventure forever. this made us feel good. He was 19 at the time of his trek and he talked about it like it happened yesterday.

‘One time, the four of us were offered mountain oysters. I didn't think they raised oysters in the mountains, but they were delicious. Then, as we were eating, everybody was laughing at us and we didn't know why. They finally told us what mountain oysters are….. bull’s balls!’

Benny had six tattoos. Two of them had been done by Benny himself with nothing more than a sharpened wire coat hanger and some ink. He said it seemed more like carving his body than getting a tattoo. He wasn't trying to be tough about it. 'Man it hurt!' he laughed. The one of his grandmother's name across his neck was the only tattoo done professionally. He said it was a breeze compared to the others. 

We lie on top of the soft backyard grass that night, thinking a cozy night's sleep was in store for us. Instead, the neighborhood dogs cried out in the night. Brian and I, unable to fall asleep, laughed as we tried to outdo each other with jokes of what the dogs might be saying to us.

'What's been the most difficult part of your journey so far?'

'Is that tent a Kelte?'

We managed to fall asleep at some point and woke to Benny offering to give us a ride to a high-traffic gas station along the Interstate on his way to work. We helped him move heavy slabs of granite to his neighbors house and loaded up our bags, not knowing where the road might lead that day.

Like Benny's tattoos, the stories of hiking with his three buddies across Mexico will be with him forever. His memories will forever remain a memory for us as well.

-DC

Pick me up

ABILENE, TEXAS - July 20 -- The three of us waited in the living room, staring at the front door while listening for a knock. The potential buyers were an hour late.

'I don't know the first thing about selling a couch,' Denny announced. I wondered what Bryan was thinking of our present situation. He had flown to New Orleans from Scotland, rented a car and driven us to Texas to be a part of our journey. The good friend of mine only had two short days to spend with us. And although he was well aware our lives were very random, I was sure that helping sell Denny's sister's sofa in Houston was not his idea of a holiday.

But he didn't seem to mind one bit as we began rattling off funny things we could do when we greeted the guests. Like, for example, act as if we were throwing a surprise party when the door opened, or informing them the couch had been wet on more times than we could count - especially since deep down we didn't want to see the piece of furniture go since one of us hoped to sleep on it that night. My personal favorite was calling Denny's sister - who was out of town - to tell her that we weren't successful with the transaction, but we did manage to sell other items in the apartment. And also, Bryan - a travel agent - had sold them a nice cruise package. The three of us laughed like hell at all the hypothetical situations. The knock on the door finally came. We gave it our best shot. However, the couch stayed put.

***

We roadtripped west all the way to Austin. Bryan was really going out of his way for us, but he seemed excited to be part of the adventure. I was happy to see him and Denny spend time together. It's always nice to see friends who have never met one another before bond like old buddies.

Bryan mentioned he had a brother-in-law who lived somewhere in Austin, and that we could stay at his place for the night. Anytime I imagine what a person's home might look like, I always picture something middle-class. I never assume the worst, I never desire the best. I took slow steps into the place, feeling like I didn't belong. I wouldn't be surprised if someone told me it was the most expensive pad in the city.

I fell in love with Austin right away. The owner of the apartment, Ray, let us borrow his mountain bikes for the day, making us promise we'd check out Zilker Park. I've never seen so many young, in-shape people in one gathering. People were biking, running, kayaking, jumping off bridges, you name it. It was just like the 20-somethings mecca I had been told about by many people. Now I got to experience it first-hand. I chatted with locals as frequently as possible about what they thought of the city. All good things.

Once Bryan had to move on toward his wife Mandy's hometown in Nebraska, Denny and I felt out of place. Ray said it was no problem to stay one more night, but it didn't feel right since he was off doing his own thing. As I reflected about our situation on the balcony, I found myself missing my family I had just seen in New Orleans. I missed my Scottish friend who had come and gone in what seemed like a blink of an eye. I wondered what the hell Denny and I were doing on the 32nd story of the most expensive place I'd ever been in.

I had lost the plot of the trip, and what made it worse was we were the ones writing it. I was concerned I was burnt out. I forgot the thrill of the first day we walked out of the airport in Maine or what it felt like to camp out in the woods for the first time. Our minds had absorbed so much that I was worried we had perhaps reached maximum capacity for experiences on this particular journey. Meeting strangers had become so routine that I feared I was failing to appreciate the beauty of it all.

I spoke to Denny about my feelings, using the analogy of swimming out into a large ocean from the shore. When you can still see the land, you are able to see how far you've gone. But once all you see around you is water, you have no reference point, and you feel lost, like maybe you are no longer making progress.

Although we were on the roof of Austin, I found myself feeling so low. 

***

Brett Baker picked us up in downtown Austin right at 9 a.m., just like he promised. The sports television producer in San Antonio had written us a few weeks back to say he had enjoyed the blog and wanted to meet up if we found ourselves in Texas. We called him to tell him we were in fact in Texas, yet were feeling a bit lost.

He was up for a roadtrip to Abilene. He had never been there, and either really wanted to go, or pretended he was curious to see it. Either way, we liked him right away.

In the six hours we spent with Brett, we discussed just about everything from cute girls we've encountered along the way to the meaning of success and how we all agree it should be synonymous with happiness.

He said his father, Dr. Dan Baker, wrote a book titled, 'What Happy People Know,' which touched on a few things we were curious about. I can't wait to reach a Barnes and Noble to check it out, however I think if you look up the word desolate in the dictionary, there may be a picture of West Texas.

After some chatting, we figured out that Brett and my brother - a sportswriter - had been in the same locker room on more than one occasion. I like to think it's a big world but one with lots of odd connections.

Brett explained to us that he had discovered our site through a link on SI.com. We were oblivious to this fact, but were glad he had found us. He joked that it was difficult to explain to his buddies that he had to cancel a tubing trip because he was driving two guys he had never met to a town not known for much several hours away from his home.

'I told him to call me at 8 o'clock tonight just in case this is all an elaborate plan to leave me in a ditch and take my car,' Brett joked.

We ate lunch in a friendly diner in the touristy town of Fredricksburg. Cowboys or people dressed as them (I don't really know the difference) roamed around. Denny returned from the restroom to inform us he had been walked in on at the most awkward of moments.

'Some guy definitely just saw me on the toilet,' he said as we all burst out laughing. The fact alone that Denny was comfortable telling this story made it clear that Brett was already a good friend.

We stared out into the abyss that is West Texas. Present and future ghost towns lined the roads. As we stared at the old, deteriorating buildings, Denny made the comment that someone has very vivid memories of times spent in these places. I couldn't get this thought out of my head as I sat silent in the backseat.

Brett, who has a tattoo of the Nebraska Cornhuskers on his arm and the years they've won championships, agreed with us that although small-town America was disappearing, he still loved coming from a town not many people had heard of in the Midwest.

Our new 38-year-old friend admitted he lived a bit vicariously through us and our website. Although he seemed to know every inch of our adventure thus far, he inquired about the best parts of our journey thus far. We told him it's how one thing always leads to another that amazes us most. 

'Had we not been here at this time, this wouldn't have happened,' we explained through several anecdotes.

When we reached Abilene, my blood started pumping faster. I was feeling the rush that comes along with being dropped in an unfamiliar town filled with nothing but unfamiliar people. Denny had a good point that walking into a town makes it easier to ease into the notion.

I could tell Brett was not at ease with idea of dropping us just anywhere. We called the police station to ask for ideas. They didn't have many. We told Brett the gas station was fine, or anywhere for that matter. We ended up grabbing our bags and hugging Brett goodbye in the Super 8 parking lot. We were officially back in the saddle as Brett drove off into the distance.

***

We pondered where to go from there as we looked at the empty map of West Texas while sitting on our backpacks in front of the hotel. Before we could come up with a plan, the Holbrooks pulled up to check in for the night.

David asked us what we were up to.

'If you try to walk toward El Paso, you will die,' he stated as fact. It was exciting to know how difficult the coming days would be, yet scary at the same time.

We chitchatted for a few minutes, finding out that they were the proud parents of one of college football's most impressive quarterbacks - Chase Holbrook of New Mexico State, who threw for over 4,600 yards his sophomore season.

David asked us if we were staying in the hotel. We told him we weren't sure since it typically wasn't part of our budget. The police had told us of a place we could camp for free, but there was no running water anywhere around, so it didn't sound ideal.

As I went into the lobby to inquire about rates, David was on his way out after checking in. He quickly shook my hand and hopped in the car. The girl at the counter seemed a bit flustered and said she had forgotten to give him his key. I flagged him down and told him he was in 222 as I handed the key through the window. When I went back into the lobby, the girl was smiling. 

'We're on a bit of a budget. What's the best you can do for a room for the night?' I asked her.

'Actually, that man just paid for your room for you,' she said, still smiling.

***

Dozens of people have gone out of their way for us this summer, and I don't think we've taken a single one for granted. But as I've found myself losing focus lately, these last few acts of kindness by strangers not only helped us out, they reminded me what makes the world such a beautiful place.

Denny and I sprawled out in our respective hotel beds as we cranked the AC and flipped on the TV. A map of the country appeared on the weather channel.

'Maine looks so far away,' Denny said.

'Yeah it does,' I said.

'I'll never look at a map of America the same again,' he said.

I looked at the Atlantic coast, realizing exactly how far we'd come. I looked at the Pacific ocean, and for the first time, felt the presence of the opposite coast. It was as if I could almost see the sea from our window. I was starting to figure out the plot again.

I thought of everything that had happened from Maine to Texas and how many stories we have to tell. I also thought of how we've grown and maybe that's why things got complicated. We know how to camp in the woods. We know how to be sweaty and smelly and still approach complete strangers. Was there much more to achieve? Had we done enough?

'If we reached the west coast soon, would you be satisfied with the trip?' I asked Denny.

'Yeah, I would be,' he said with confidence.

'Yeah, me too.'

***

I woke this morning feeling very refreshed. I chatted with the Holbrooks over coffee, finding myself really enjoying the simple pleasures of conversing with people we would have otherwise never met had we not taken off. Handshakes, hugs, smiles, small kind gestures and chit-chat have been our fuel thus far. I don't foresee a shortage of it any time soon thanks to some very good people.

The Pacific looks very far away, but at least now I can feel it.

-BT

Things you may or may not care to know...

METAIRIE, LOUISIANA - July 15 -- After the first day of volunteering at Desire Street Ministries, Denny and I had to take quick showers (separately) to be ready in time for dinner. I had encouraged my brother and his wife to have their next-door neighbor, Mrs. Carrie, over to their house that evening. They agreed it was a good idea. Sarah made the best-tasting lasagna, and we chatted over the rarely-used kitchen table Mike had brought in from the garage that day. We learned that Carrie had lost both her husband of 55-years and a son two months prior and now lived alone. She quivered as she spoke of this, but maintained her composure and immediately switched the focus to the six-week-old baby in the room. Will made everyone smile.

-Denny and I found ourselves in collared shirts (loaned by my brother) for the first time this summer while attending my new nephew Will's baptism in Houma, Louisiana. Following the ceremony, we gathered at my sister-in-law's parents' house for pasta-laya, fried fish, diving contests in the pool and underwater charades. Most of my extended family was visiting from the Midwest this week. It was the first time I had been part of a summer family vacation in five years. I felt like a kid again. We played a giant game of telephone that included my 5-year-old niece and 86-year-old grandma. It ended in hilarity every single time.

-I got my hair cut for the first time this summer. A simple No. 3 blade all around.

-I learned the art of changing a diaper, but have yet to attempt it. I did, however, master a new technique for holding six-week-old Will - one in which my brother has put into his arsenal for making his son happy. It involves putting one hand through the little guy's legs and supporting him by resting his chest in your palm so he can see the world around him.

-My mom loaned me $20 to test my luck at the casino in downtown New Orleans. I multiplied it by 20, nearly doubling our remaining summer funds. My family went to the bar on Bourbon Street where my brother and sister-in-law met for the very first time. I'm sure glad they did.

-I took three baths in my brother's jet-powered tub. This helped me clear my mind and allowed me to nearly finish the book I'm reading - The Perks of Being a Wallflower. I highly recommend it.

-Denny and I multiplied our knowledge of Louisiana culture tenfold via Wikipedia. We learned why New Orleans is called the Big Easy, the difference between Voodoo and Hoodoo, what the Fleur de Lis is, and what the difference is between Cajun and Creole.

-Denny and I performed a pair of physical activities together other than walking - a game of one-on-one basketball and a round of golf as part of my family reunion. Denny won by a couple points on the court, but we both found ourselves winded at 2-2. My consolation prize was knowing I still have the ability to dunk a basketball in my bare feet. I was feeling the effects for days. On the course, Denny - the only competitor not technically in the family - hit the game-tying putt on number 18. This also gave us another reason to use the collared shirts my brother lent us since the golf pro wouldn't allow us to play in our No Stranger Land t-shirts.

-We are shipping a box of unnecessary stuff home for the third time this summer.

-I did some job searching for the fall. I am not ready for this adventure to come to an end, but I figure it's time to think about the next step with our journey being half over and all.

-I weigh as much as I do when we started. I thought I would be skinnier by now. I think the desert will make us shed a few pounds. I am nervous and excited for the Southwest.

-I got to watch my favorite TV show - Flight of the Conchords - at my brother's house.

-We traded my brother a No Stranger Land shirt for two plain-white undershirts and the collared shirt Denny grew attached to.

-New Orleans is a 26-hour and 17-minute drive from Portland, Maine. The drive from New Orleans to San Diego - 26 hours and 26 minutes.

-BT