Until today, I had always associated the title of Vagabond with a man aimlessly moving around the world by any means possible and with what little posessions he had rolled up in an old jacket, slung over his shoulder. That was of course until I ran into a band of vagabond girls. Four "houseless" girls travelling across the country in a van, begging, panhandling, and playing guitar for tips to buy beer.
I pulled off the road today to check out a little place called the Middlegate Station. I thought they might have some water or even something better. What I discovered instead was a little kitchen where the cook made the best hamburgers around and all sorts of wayward travellers were hiding out. These four girls looked very peculiar with punky haircuts and clothes that appeared to be made by hand.
I asked them where they were headed. One of them told me that they were all just making their way West and had no real goal at all. Two of them started together and picked the other two up hitchhiking. They ate mostly from dumpsters, mooched gas from tourists at gas stations, asked for handouts, played music for tips, and camped out in the wilderness. They had already come 3,000 miles on free gas and food.
None of them had a job back home or even a home back home. One girl told me, "We're not 'homeless', we're 'houseless'... home is where the heart is!"
It was wierd to imagine that they had no end in mind, no fallback, no "real life". Everyone else I had met was just on vacation or between jobs. These were the first people I had met that were really out there scraping by day to day. They all seemed to love it though.
They had punky nicknames to match their wild hairstyles, like Riff, Rocket, Jabba, and Axle. They abandoned their old names and lives and just set out to the open road. This, in my opinion, is far crazier than anything I could ever do.
Another tough day of riding. 112 miles today, which will be my last 100+ day of the trip. Even though the entire route was generally downhill, it was never steep enough to coast and the entire day was full of headwinds again. I had to earn every mile across some of the hottest and driest flatlands I've ever seen. The entire day felt like a climb, but with the addition of scorching sun and increased traffic.
The last thirty miles were some of the hardest. It was absolutely flat and incrediby windy. The road was surrounded by miles of salt flats and looked exactly the same the entire way. I felt like I was working so hard but not moving at all. I just tried to think about other things and bear through it.
I did finally make it to Fallon and I immediately stopped in a quick shop for some delicious drinks. I ran into some of the Bike and Build guys again, and we just shared a sigh over another tough day in the books. They were beat, and they didn't even have to lug the extra weight across that terrain! I knew I earned my rest for the day.
I'm excited for a short one tomorrow. It's only about 60 miles to Carson City. I could easily make it into California tomorrow, but I didn't see the point in trying to mount the Sierra Nevadas after what will probably be another windy and hot 60 miles. I'll save the mountain for the next day and knock it out in the morning.
One more day in Nevada! Maybe I'll play some slots while I'm in Carson City. I gather that's about the only thing to do. Or I'll try to catch a movie. At least I can be entertained if I'm going to throw my money away.
Location:Fallon, NV
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