Waning Gibbous Moon
If in your travels you ever meet Mr. Kelly Corbett of Delta UT, please genuflect and give him 10% of your income. This guy is a full-on savior.
Mr. Corbett is an alfalfa exporter by profession. His company grows alfalfa in and around Delta, trucks it to the west coast, and ships it to Japan and China. This is big business and Kelly excels at it.
Today he was heading to Nevada to see a man about some hay. He didn’t think it was a good idea for a gentleman of my advanced age to proceed afoot on this scorched-Earth roadway.
So he packed me and Bobalooie into his Silverado and delivered us here. Victory.
Thus, THE major problem of the entire trip was solved. Abracadabra, please and thank you, glory be to St. Hannah.
So today, instead of dying in a roadside ditch, I am hanging out at the infamous Border RV Park/Motel/Cafe, enjoying the PACIFIC TIME ZONE again at last. I feel like my entire backbone just expanded by two inches. Stress relief.
Crossing Nevada’s repeating mountain ranges and hot, flat basins won’t be easy. It will be three or four weeks of hard work. But there are places to camp and to refill my water needs at reasonable intervals. All I have to do is proceed with caution and good sense.
I will, if all goes well, cross the Sierra Nevada before any major snowfall occurs. And that, of course, is this hiker’s Rosetta stone, the key ingredient to any transcontinental touring strollerist’s success.
Thank you, Kelly Corbett, for your trail magic. And thank you, Trail Magic Coordinator in the Sky, for sending Kelly my way.
Peace, Love, and Onward,