March 9 marks the anniversary of my last day on my wagon voyage across America – the journey that became the Lost Sea Expedition series.
Most nights in my wagon, I wrote in my journal. Tonight, reading back over those entries here in my cabin in Western North Carolina, those notes seems like a missive from another era.
From my journal:
“West of Sierra Blanca, Texas
Tonight is one of the last nights on the road. We’re 24 miles from Sierra Blanca, only 40 or so from Mexico. I just cooked supper over a small flame in the desert sand. I burn the final waking hours writing in my journal in a dark wagon, the only movement the shadow flicker of my pen against the paper in the lamp light.
Gentle bumps rock the wagon tonight, like Sea Bird anchored out and the dingy bumping against her flanks. Only tonight, it’s Polly that’s eating a bale of hay leaning up against the wagon that sends these shudders through my vessel.
I nod off to the sound of Polly’s picket chain dragging through the sand as she seeks out precious blades of grass. The chomping as she chews on her precious pad of alfalfa hay. The swallowing as she downs jug water hauled into the desert aboard the wagon.
Good night a final time from out here on the dusty Lost Sea. In the morning we come out of the desert and make the final miles for Fort Hancock.”
And with that, dear friends, I turn in to not, this time my wagon berth, but my bed.
Okay, I’ll leave you with a few more photos to go with this postNext →