The Great Walkabout

My parents were hesitant when I told them I wanted to travel the USA alone. They were horrified when I informed them that I planned on taking the bus. I understood their concern; I was a little concerned about the whole thing myself. But in the end I thought it was a much better use of the 3-months I had to get from the East to the West Coast to take it slow and see it pass by all around me rather than fly over it all at a distance.

My first big trip was a short one in comparison to what was to come: 12 hours from Washington DC to Memphis. From my seat near the front of the bus I got to see Virginia and Tennessee pass me by and endless fields and small American towns welcomed me between my hour or two of slumber. I stayed with relatives in Memphis for two weeks then it was time for the long haul: 36 hours to Las Vegas. It was this journey that I will always remember.

On any trip longer than 4 hours, we were provided with a small break at a gas station or truck stop. So needless to say I got to see many truck stops on my trip. These stops provided us a chance to stretch our legs, get something to eat or drink and mingle with one another.

At around 5 in the morning our bus pulled into a medium-sized gas station somewhere outside of Albuquerque, New Mexico. I woke up just as we were pulling in and was greeted by darkness and the shinning lights of a lonely gas station in the middle of nowhere.

After we had stopped, I shuffled off the bus with everyone else and made my way inside, still groggy from sleep. I can’t remember exactly what I purchased, probably coffee and a doughnut (possibly potato chips). It doesn’t really matter thought. Because after I brought whatever it was that I brought I made my way back to the bus. Outside, I had to stop.

Unlike the darkness of pre-dawn that had shuttled me into the gas station, the sun was now starting to rise on the horizon. The rays of light streamed across an unobstructed landscape, bouncing off of the cacti and shrubs that were in abundance. The colours were a mix of yellows and blues and cast shadows over the sand.

I took some photos, but in the end none of them could really compare to being in that moment. And even though I got to Las Vegas at 8 o’clock at night a day and a half after I felt Memphis and thus thoroughly exhausted, it was in that moment at a gas station in New Mexico, that I felt happy with my decision to take the bus.