DAY 127 - A FRIENDLY TRUMP SUPPORTER
Day 127 - Montichello, Utah - 4676 km
After my little road trip with Rachel through the Canyonlands I wasn’t sure where to go. San Francisco was the first goal of my journey, Utah the second and I probably needed to head back to the coast now. Utah had been great fun to ride but now it was hard to retain motivation and focus. I’ve tasted the sweetness of a car ride. The comfort, the speed. America is a car country after all. The roads and facilities are built for 4 wheels and an engine. I tried to hitch hike in Moab and wrote ‘South’ on a piece of cardboard taking place at the side of the road at a gas station. After 10 minutes I gave up already. It’s not my thing. I feel I’m begging, I don’t like to be dependent on other people. I cycled the highway south out of Moab which was narrow and full of traffic and continued till far in the evening. My thoughts were in the past and I didn’t enjoy the ride. Somewhere along a little dirt road I searched for a campspot, which was not easy to find because of all the cacti. After setting up my tent I stared in the dark for an hour trying to get my mind straight. It took me 4 days to cover the distance we did in a few hours in the car. Long straight desert roads without much scenery. Rachel had recommended me to go to Toas, a beautiful native enclave in New Mexico. I wasn’t sure. It was far off route eastwards into New Mexico, and Los Angeles is where I needed to be next.
The next day in a roadside cafe I took place at the bar for lunch. Next to me sat an older man with a big moustache, having a beer. His name was Walt and he on his way back home from a fishing trip at Lake Powell. We got in a chat and he offered me a ride. “You can put your bike in my boat.” The desert landscape slowly transformed into greener land, with the trees turning yellow. We drank American lager and had long conversations about impopulair presidents in the soft chairs of his old Ford truck. This was actually the first Republican I had a longer chat with. It was interesting, nobody seemed to be really happy with the current situation, Democrat or Republican. Walt looks like a firefighter, but is actually a retired nurse. He told me stories about his job as ski rescue patrol and later his work in the hospital. “I always loved my job, never minded going to work.” We drove on in good spirits with cold cans of Coors Light in our hands. And suddenly I was in Albuquerque!