Western Trek Journal Day 1

The Western Trek Journal

Day 2

Day 3

Day 4 & 5

Epilogue

Day 1

Waterview Apartments, TX	I left my apartment very early, around 5:00AM on May 28, 2001. The preceding night I had packed my '93 Geo Storm, a very small car, with all of my belongings, so I could simply grab my bags and head out into the wild blue yonder. From Plano, Texas, a mid-sized town on the northeastern outskirts of Dallas/Fort Worth, I took I-75 north to 82 and took 82 west to 287. 287 heads directly northwest to Amarillo, and I was eager to take the shortest path to Washington. I was pretty happy at this point with the idea of experiencing a solo drive all the way across the U.S., but I was fairly naive at that time.	heading out with a smile
a desolate wasteland	As soon as I reached 287, it slowly dawned on me how long and tedious my "grand, glorious expedition" was going to be. The landscape was a parched, dry scrubland with no animals to speak of, save for a few marauding crows. The road stretched out for what seemed like forever, and was broken only by the occasional historical marker that recounted the grand days of cowboys, westward expansion, and the noble genocide of every visible Native American tribe. This sign in particular told of the "Early Trails in Montague County", speaking in long, boring detail of how trade routes were set up through this small county, a county so small that would take about 20 minutes to pass through if you didn't stop to look at this sign.	historical marker by the Texas Historical Survey Committee
on the road once again	After this fairly unimpressive introduction to the products of the "Texas Historical Survey Committee", I decided against stopping at any more of these tourist attractions and headed back out onto the road, which seemed to be much more desolate than before I stopped to read the marker. I soon reached Memphis, which suprised me for a moment since I was traveling away from Tennessee and hadn't planned on visiting the Elvis capitol. Memphis is not the only strange city in Texas, as this state also has such place names as Paris, Venus, and even Mars. These towns are only noteworthy for their names, however. Beyond a hotel and a gas station, this town had little to offer. I reached Amarillo late in the day, took a short jaunt west on I-40, and then took 385 north.	Memphis, TX
the dry Canadian River	I soon crossed the Canadian River, which was much farther south than I would have expected. After the river I continued north on 385 to 87, which I took to the northwest. Eventually I passed into New Mexico; I was just suddenly in New Mexico, no signs or "Welcome to New Mexico" billboards or anything. I only found out where I was by referencing the hotel I was staying at with my road atlas. But at last I reached the end of the first day and had successfully gotten through Texas. I ended up getting a hotel room at the small town of Clayton, NM. It was basically a trucker's stop, but I got enough sleep to be rested enough the next morning for a grinning self photo.	the hotel in Clayton, NM

I began writing a journal at the end of the first day of the trip, a record of my experiences over the many hours on and off the road. This is what was transcribed directly from my journal. Any changes done to the text are for grammatical purposes only and are marked with brackets: [ ].

May 28, 2001
11:00 PM CST
    Today I finally left Texas. After so long I'm taking the initiative and heading back to my real home in Washington. Here in Clayton, NM, I can still see my friends waving goodbye and can still feel the sad hugs goodbye from my family. The hardest part has been trying to accept the fact that this is not a vacation. I really have left my friends and family.
    When I first set out, I was relaxed and unafraid. The trip did not seem quite as daunting as it does now. For much of the trip so far I have had books on tape of many different tales of suspense to occupy my mind, but here at the hotel I am isolated, alone with my thoughts.
    Only now am I uncertain about my decision, which I was so sure about a day ago. But I will keep my resolve. I have already traveled over 500 miles through this desolate state and I won't turn back now.
    I had never really noticed how barren a state Texas is until I drove through central Texas on 287. Flat, featureless landscapes stained a deep red stretch out in front of me. Broken only by the occasional abandoned property or mechanized oil field, humanity seems to be in short supply.
    Nearly every town along this road is no more than a mile or two wide, and only the truly well-developed ones have "pay at the pump" filling stations as if it is a grand new invention. The dried and flaking paint found on every building hints at a dying town while zombie-like citizens shuffle around town as though they, too, are dying with their town.
    I notice a similarity between these towns and myself: stagnation. Towns that fail to change and grow soon wither and die like so many of the West Texas plants. I may follow suit if I do not keep myself active. In Texas I found myself in a rut, which may be part of the reason why I chose to experiment with psilocybin. That sudden shock to my sense of self, and the enthusiasm with which Brian Davis told me of his trip to Japan and the merits of following your dreams, drove me to head out here.
    But now, alone at last, save for a cell phone, I wonder what I will do in Washington. I have seen so much and know so little that I wonder about my intentions. I too often live for the future, finding myself scheduling my time with goals and plans, never truly enjoying the moment. Even now I think not of the trip, but of its end. I must learn, while I am out here alone, to enjoy my world as it comes, not as it will be. I feel I have started this already, although the "books on tape" seem to impede my progress somewhat.
    I have seen many beautiful things already. I have seen such spectacular vistas that pictures do them no justice. Squashes growing like weeds, broken cliff faces carving crooked paths along the landscape, and other such treasures have kept me company on this long journey. I have passed through Prayer Town, Memphis, and driven over the Canadian River, which had long since dried up.
    Tomorrow I head into the mountainous range of New Mexico, and I will take my own advice: I will continue past Clayton to Rabbit Ear Mountain and I will find myself on that mountain. If not there, then I will continue on to every other peak on my way until I at last know where I am in this universe.

Until the sun falls once again behind
the peaks of Washington State, this is:
Tylan Watts

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