Not the farthest point from origin geographically, perhaps, but after 6,500ish miles, I am at the end point before I begin retracing my steps.
A brief 18-odd layover in Seattle has left me minus a bike and pair of flip flops, but plus a pair of jeans and a blanket. Not really a fair trade, but the blanket’s nice.
My bike getting stolen immediately upon arrival in Seattle? Less nice.
Also, after a pretty smooth day and a half out of a 35 hour train ride from Seattle, getting stuck in the California desert with no power or a/c for three hours: also less nice.
See also: frying bits of my Chromebook’s keyboard, presumably from all the melting ice being thrown around in order to not die.
So my first impressions of the West Coast has me kinda giving it the side-eye so far. Pretty bummed about my bike — I’d be absofuckinglutely devastated if it were my beloved Serenity, but damn, that little folding bike was a trooper.
More later, plus tons of pictures to sort through, but right now I’m going to pass the fuck out for about fifty hours.