Day 1 Big Trip

McDonalds, Cheney, WA 21:00

Notes Day 1; Oct. 6. 11 Thursday: Left Kennewick 17:00 after stop at bank to get money. Dark sky, 60 degrees. Threaten rain. Tired. Stopped at Connell & slept until 18:30. Drove to Ritzville. Ate burger and bought a coffee. Light rain on windshield. Drove on to Cheney. Stop McDonalds 20:30. Might sleep in Cheney. Mileage 129 miles.

To Tereza T. in Plzen: I sent you a small gift on Monday. It will arrive in a big manila envelope. You can share it with Reli and Vladimir. Tell Vladimir if he likes it I will give him one when I arrive back in town.

I made my change in flight from Seattle to Prague. December 10. It was the last possible day my ticket was good that I bought in Plzen last December.

General impressions: You can over plan, over worry and over everything making a big trip. I know as a rule it is very bad strategy to begin a big trip late in the day. It should be either early in the day or wait until the next.

But there always comes a time when one must get "out to sea" to test their vehicle or boat or airplane. And there are some journeys that can only be made solo. Even the sharp sense of loneliness as one sets out on a big journey as the sky is dark and overcast must be accepted as "normal."

For as the old pilot Antoine de St. Exupery knew from flying his small plane solo only by the stars above and his compass in his cockpit over the deserts of Africa or over the Andes Mountains in South America, making your way on a journey solo sharpens the senses that are dulled by the constant babble of everyday life in a city.

So I sensed I absolutely had to get out on the road today rather than wait one more day shackled like a boat to a pier. I had to test my vehicle and discover if it is reliable. For months on end I have silently wondered: do I have a reliable craft to take me out on the high seas and get me safely where I need to do and then back?

But by leaving late I missed a ritual stop at the Ritzville Public Library, which I have always stopped over the years to sell a book and visit with the local librarian. But it had come time to hoist the sales up on my craft and take to the seas, whether the winds were running in my favor or not. I am convinced you can kill a journey by over thinking it and draining it of all its natural flavors. The senses get dulled beyond recognition or usefulness when one remains imprisoned by logic and planning. They become like a hunting dog who is always tethered on a leash to be paraded around a city park by its owner. After a period as a hunting dog he is useless.

R.B.