My January, Part IV: California at last

One nice thing I discovered during the course of my trip was the fact that gas in Wyoming and Utah was 40-50 cents per gallon cheaper than in Tyler, but that started to change once I crossed the Nevada border. Just across the state line I pulled into a gas station in West Wendover, and the gas was suddenly up over three dollars a gallon. I would learn that the prices would continue to rise and would get to a ridiculous $3.35 per gallon once I crossed the California state line. Of course as of this week, we wish gas were only $3.35 per gallon here in southwestern Minnesota.
The other thing I noticed was the lack of rural dwellers. Here in our quaint little area of the country you don’t have to drive far to pass another farm place. You can head out past the Johnson place, turn left at the Hansen farm, wave at the Petersen’s on your way by and pull into the Anderson’s driveway all in the span of a few miles. Out in the Wild West, you can go many miles between towns and never see a yard light. That reality combined with sporadic cell phone coverage and it can make a gimpy post-hospital stay old fat guy a bit uneasy.
Nevada, while it also has its share of sagebrush, provided a labyrinth of twists and turns in the interstate, circumventing numerous small mountain ranges. The ups and downs traveling through valleys and mountain passes provided a stark contrast to the flatness of Wyoming and much of Utah. I had expected to be more in awe of the sight of the “mountains majesty” during the trip, but while fun to look at, they weren’t nearly as intimidating to drive through as I had imagined.
The whole intimidation part was ratcheted up a few notches, however, once I passed Reno. For about 50 miles it was a head rush of a half dozen semi trucks and me heading downhill. It was more than a little disconcerting.
In addition to being swept down the mountainside, there was a string of road signs that didn’t exactly get me in my comfort zone:
Trucks Must Have Chains
8% grade next 20 miles
Wildlife Crossing
Curve ahead-45 MPH!
And my favorite:
Beware of Falling Rocks.
It was kind of like playing Super Mario Brothers, except you only get one life.
Somewhere during that downhill slide, I crossed into California, and the trip turned creepy when I saw the sign announcing I was approaching the “Donner Pass.” On the bright side, I guess, nothing I would be encountering would approach the travails of the Donner Party members, who were snowed in the mountains in the mid-1800’s and began to eat each other to survive. Probably the worst-ever scenario as a result of lost cell phone reception. (Let’s pray nothing like that ever happens up in Hendricks.)
In the area surrounding Truckee, California, they are apparently quite proud of their Donners. If you spend enough time there, you will come across signs for Donner Way, Donner Lake, Donner Creek, Donner Peak and Donner Memorial State Park. I vowed if I came upon a sign for the Donner Diner I would be taking a different route home.
I didn’t.
Still hurtling downhill well past Truckee, I finally came across a sign for the Foothills Motel.
I could finally take my foot off the brake.
It wasn’t long before I was obviously in California. For the first time in my long life, I found myself being swept along in eight…count them…eight lanes of traffic all going the same direction. Crazy! If I wouldn’t have had both hands clutching my steering wheel, I would have loved to have brought back a picture of the sign that said, “Right 5 Lanes Must Turn Right.” Wow! Back home that would cover Highway 14, Highway 19, and half of Highway 68.
So, for the final leg of my trip, there was little chance to survey the scenery as I was forced to concentrate on driving 70 in a large crowd.
At that speed it wasn’t long before I reached the end of my 1800-mile journey and arrived in Tracy. The Travel Gods did get to enjoy one more jab, as my GPS, programmed to take me to the Hampton Inn, instead led me to Taco Bell, on my left, with the announcement, “arriving at Hampton Inn, on left.”
I swear I heard the GPS lady’s voice giggle just a bit.
A half hour later I finally found my hotel and it was time to relax.
I even had the good fortune of being next door to a Sonic Drive Inn, and scored a decadent double cheese burger and chili tots before retiring for the evening.
Well past the mid-point of my life, I finally found myself in California. Home of…um…the California Burger, I guess.
The temperature outside was just under 60, which I didn’t mention to Kathy, who was home scooping the driveway every day in temps hovering around 0. She reminded me of this each time we talked on the phone over the span of seven days, hardly noticing how good she was making me feel.
So the segment of my trip that worried me the most, getting to Tracy in time, was over and it was time to enjoy a couple of days of classes in sunny California.
Next week: Nurse Linzie saves my life. (This blog topic, incidentally, was suggested to me by the aforementioned Nurse Linzie.)