​We woke up on day two to the sound of waves crashing against the cliffs below the Panorama B&B. Birds were chirping loudly, and the smell of salt water was coming in through the balcony door in the most refreshing way each time a breeze picked up. Still a bit tired we lazily packed up our gear, comprised of two hiking backpacks, her 46L Osprey and my 60L Cold Cold World, a duffle bag, and a small personal backpack. Truthfully I think we did a pretty good job packing for the trip and maintaining mobility with our luggage, which will be very handy when we return the car in a few days and begin traveling by foot and ferry to the southern islands. 

Breakfast was served down on the porch at cute little tables looking out over the sea. A trellis roof blocked the sunlight and as we ate Dani got some work emails written while utilizing the free WiFi.  We were packed and on the road by 09h45, a little later than we had hoped but not too bad in the grand scheme of things. Our first stop for the day was a sight-seeing adventure just ten minutes down the road at the famous Caves of Diros. We paid $26 for our tickets at a small booth just a few hundred feet from the beach, and after being fitted with fluorescent orange life jackets, headed down a long staircase into the dark entryway to the cave system. Long blue flat bottom boats were lined up ahead of us floating in the immaculately clear water, while stalagmites and jagged rock became visible everywhere around us as the ceiling of the cave opened up expansively. We floated through the half-mile cave system tour route (to date there are nearly 15 miles of caves explored down here) with four other people and our guide, soaking in the beauty of this underground world. The water depth was shallow and the only noise perceivable was the quiet drip of droplets from the ceiling to the water below. At the end of the half hour paddle ride we were dropped off and told to follow a 300m walking path through a different section of caves back to the main entrance. All in all the Diros caves were impressive, but the lack of history or details from the “guide” left us a bit disappointed. By the time we were back at the car the temperature was already in the mid 80s, perfect for windows-down driving as we made our way an hour east to the little town where we’d spend the next night. 
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The drive was beautiful, back up through some of the same mountains as the day before, then splitting onto a different road closer back to Sparti and heading off towards a different more western coastline. The little Suzuki engine tries its hardest in the hills, and I pretend to be Mario Andretti whenever possible, downshifting through the gearbox on curvy descents and letting our tiny blue roller-skate car “lean” into the turns as best it can. 

Half an hour out from our destination we came up over a hill on the edge of the Aegean Sea that provided us with a clear view of the bay. I saw something I instantly recognized in the water, a wrecked shipping/cargo vessel rusting away on the shoreline. It’s a ship I’ve seen photos of for years on the internet, and one I had hoped to see during our trip. We pulled off the paved road and followed a dirt path to a small restaurant at the waters edge, each getting a cold drink before walking down the beach to see the wreck. The Dimitrios is/was a 220’ cargo vessel said to have been smuggling cigarettes from Turkey to Italy in the early 80s. They began having troubles both with the ship and its crew, causing them to dock locally, but the Greek government demanded the boat be anchored offshore. During a storm the anchorage let go, and the large ship floated free, pushed inland by the current until it was run aground on this very beach outside the town of Githio. The wreck went completely ignored, and almost 35 years later it’s now just the rusted out carcass of a ship with nothing but intrigued travelers visiting, and the ocean’s waves continually crashing against it. 
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We arrived in Monemvasia shortly after 15h00, a massively protruding rock island with a centuries old village built into the steep hillside. We drove over the small the bridge dividing Monemvasia from the mainland, at which point we found a little restaurant with a deck overlooking the bay and a menu that looked incredibly appealing. After a relaxed lunch (the pace of life here is refreshingly slow, and I’m doing my best to adjust to it) we walked out to the end of the road on Monemvasia and entered into the old village through a thirty foot stone gateway, the only access point at the end of a tall boundary wall that ran up the side of the islands steep and rocky hillside. Exploring the cobblestone streets reminded me of my time in Venice last year, and after a few hours exploring we headed back to the car to find our Airbnb. 

A late afternoon nap refreshed us plenty, and we returned to the small island across the bridge to watch the sunset over a hazy mountain skyline, ultimately finding drinks at a rooftop bar overlooking the sea. Eventually ending up at another rooftop restaurant, The Cannon, we were served a completely customized dinner designed for us by the manager. After a while we became the only patrons left, and dined quietly by faint light while the music changed to a live Pink Floyd album, the sounds of the sea adding to the soundtrack of our evening. 

On the way back to the Airbnb we stopped to photograph the Milky Way lingering due south over the ocean, the darkness of the surrounding region allowing the sprawling and colorful comprising stars to shine brightly overhead. It’s always a special moment to see the Milky Way with the naked eye, moments that are only possible in the summer when living in or visiting the northern hemisphere. Dani saw two shooting stars while I was focused on making photographs, and before we knew it it was after 02h00 and we returned to the apartment to call it a night. 

Tomorrow we head back to Athens for two days, then turn our sights towards the southern islands Greece is so famous for. 

I got a few hours of sleep on the plane after taking the Milky Way photos, and woke up only ten minutes before we were supposed to land. The view out the window was rather fascinating, brown jagged hills stuck up everywhere around us, and I wondered where there would be enough flat space to land a fully loaded A330 aircraft. Our wheels touched down just after 09h45 local time, and we were quickly off the plane and on our way through customs. After seamlessly collecting our bags, we actually ran into a friend of mine from high school who was heading back to Boston with her husband, having spent a week in Santorini on their honeymoon; Dani always likes to point out that there’s hardly a place on the planet I can go without knowing someone. 

Our smooth arrival was quickly interrupted by the rental car company asking for a copy of my international drivers license. Dani had made all the arrangements for our Airbnb’s and rental cars, and knowing I had rented a car in Italy last year assumed I had the international license. After a minor heart attack that the first three days of our itinerary would be relocated to a more local plan, I was actually able to utilize my “executive status” (read: “I travel too much” status) at National/Enterprise and secure us a car for a few dollars more without needing the international license... thankfully we were back in business without too much of a headache. Fifteen minutes later we had found the tiny, blue, four-door, stick-shift Suzuki, and after a quick talk with the exceptionally friendly rental lot agent were on our way under our own power. The plan for the day was a three and a half hour drive to a tiny costal town overlooking the Aegean Sea, located on the eastern side of the Mani Peninsula. The drive had no real expedited timeline, and our only planned stop was in the ancient city of Sparti, located almost exactly halfway between the airport and our final destination for the evening, Oitylo. 

The highways navigating us south of Athens proper were four lanes wide and relatively empty of traffic, a welcome change from the vehicular headache Boston is. I kept us a little bit over the speed limit traveling down highway E65, as cars passing 40-60+ km/hr faster were whizzing by in the fast lane, and less reliable looking vehicles trudged along in the breakdown lanes. There were a few tolls points of $2.80 each, roughly $3.50 USD, and I utilized the toll booth workers to practice my very poor Greek conversational skills, “hello” and “thank you”, both which got big smiles from the toll agents. We stopped at a highway rest station for bathrooms and to buy a few liters of water for the day. Continuing on, we eased out of the plateaued landscape, skirting by one of the oceanic shipping ports, and began climbing into the mountains. 

Had you blindfolded me and taken me here to this exact location, I’d have guessed we were in southwestern Wyoming or even parts of Southern California. The dry hills towered above us as the highway cut into the sides of these mountains through four-lane tunnels. We spent an hour or so in terrain like this, constantly shifting the car between fourth and fifth gear as the 1.4cyl engine worked hard to provide A/C for us, battling the 90-degree heat outside, while climbing and descending the roads. A little while later we took a curvy off ramp exit off of E65 and began a more meandering adventure on the backroads of E961 towards Sparti. 

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​We left on Saturday the 9th in an exceptionally relaxed manner. Calling an Uber to make the ten minute ride to the airport around 11h30in preparation for our 13h00 flight to New York City’s JFK International Airport. The agent at bag check gave me quite the funny look as I checked only a small duffel bag, wondering aloud why I was carrying the largest of my two bags on the plane. It was at this point that I noticed my clothing bag was half the size of my electronics bag. This shouldn’t really surprise anyone, but I got a good laugh out of it. The hope for this trip is to utilize our Mavic Pro drone much more than we did in Canada. If you haven’t yet seen the 45-second highlight reel from the Trans-Canada Overland trip last summer, check out a link here. Editing that short film made me realize the power of the drone itself for catching footage in places I’d otherwise never be able to, so I’m pushing myself to use it to its fullest going forward, starting on this trip to Greece. 

Our connecting flight to New York went off without a hitch, and we spent our two hours at JFK on Delta’s roof-deck lounge that overlooks the international flights terminal. This is always enjoyable for me as I love to point out planes and track their destinations (If you don’t know this, I’m a little bit of a commercial aviation nerd). At 16h00 we began boarding the plane, an Airbus A333, that would be carrying the two of us and 291 of our newest acquaintances across the Atlantic Ocean. I watched TV and Dani enjoyed a movie as pasta and chicken dinners were served, shortly after which the cabin lights were turned off and many went to sleep. We flew into the darkness of the night, 39,000 feet over the ocean and 25 miles in front of, and behind, the nearest trans-Atlantic flight, flying through the sky like ants marching between colonies. 

Shortly after Dani shut her iPad off and reclined the chair to sleep, I was staring out the window at the stars. Now that the majority of the cabin was asleep I was able to see in much greater detail than beforehand, immediately recognizing the Milky Way sprawling out across the sky. I usually sit on the left side of European bound flights, in hopes of catching the northern lights from my window seat, but at the time of booking all that were available in our class were souther facing seats. I didn’t think of this then, but it gave me the most incredible view of the Milky Way. As a photographer I typically spend time under it, aiming the camera up to capture the height of its beauty. Being six miles up in the air gave me an unparalleled view, and I instantly knew I needed to try and photograph it. The funny part of this is that the cards were epically stacked against me; photographing the Milky Way from a tripod on the surface of the earth can be exceptionally hard in itself, and here I was moving at nearly 600 miles an hour in an airplane that even in its smoothest moments is still somewhat bouncy. Keeping a camera still and the shutter open long enough to absorb any amount of usable Milky Way light was going to be a heck of a problem. Needless to say that after 50+ test shots, I was finally able to capture a non-blurry image, the camera held solely in my hands and pressed against the window, while I did my best to hold my jacket over my head and block out the ambient pollution from reading lights and a few scattered TV screens still on in the cabin.  

For those photography folks that read this, I will include some spec details on the image below. A ‘normal’ photo I take of the Milky Way is done on a tripod, usually at f/2.8, ISO3200 or so, and a shutter time of 30 seconds with my 14mm, or 20” with my 24mm lens, adjusted accordingly to ensure the sky doesn't move too much to blur the stars in the photo. It takes a few tries to get focus on point, but those settings usually return a great image. The photo I took on this flight was handheld (no tripod), at f/2.8, ISO12800, and a shutter time of a whopping 8 seconds. I did this while holding my breath and trying not to move in the slightest, and I guess it finally paid off. The image itself isn’t perfect, but the science and situation behind it make it truly spectacular to me. 

Once I’d accomplished making this photograph to the best of my abilities I put my headphones in, turned on some quiet music, and fell fast asleep. If there’s one thing I’m good at in this world it’s sleeping on airplanes, and I had five more hours in-flight to make use of that talent. 
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Hey all!

It's been quite a while since I've had a chance to write anything for 2180miles itself, and I've been missing it. Work has been crazy over the last few months, and has unfortunately left me with little time to myself. Thankfully, Saturday will bring a brief end to this mayhem.

On the afternoon of June 9th, Dani and I will be taking off for two weeks traveling around Greece. She had expressed to me her interest in going well over a year ago, but was happy to let the Trans-Canada Overland trip be our 2017 summer adventure, in exchange for which I promised we'd explore Greece this year. She has planned us a fantastic 13 day itinerary during which we'll travel around via rental car, ferries, and our own feet visiting Athens and a half-dozen of the southern islands like Crete, Mykonos, and Santorini. We made a trip to downtown Boston's REI store a few weeks ago and got her outfitted with an Osprey 46L pack which will be perfect for the trip and future hiking excursions. I'll be carrying one of my 60L bags, and for the first time in my life I think I might leave my laptop at home and solely bring my iPad for blogging. Rest assured I'm bringing two cameras (and probably my drone), and will be taking notes throughout so there will be blog posts to come detailing hikes and visited ruins, alongside what I hope to be some spectacular imagery.
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The other big piece of news to announce is our recent engagement. On May 25th I rented out the entirety of Boston Public Library (Dani's favorite place in the entire city) staged a fictitious event featuring an Emily Brontë book collection on display (her favorite author), and asked her to be my life's greatest adventure. ​Thankfully, she said yes.

So that's it... a bit of news from my world.  We do have a few other trips planned with the Overland club this summer, and should have some time hiking up in New Hampshire's White Mountains as well. The Jeep is getting a hardshell roof-top tent for when we're camping out of it, large enough to fit both of us with plenty of room inside for sleeping bags, pillows, and misc. gear. It's waterproof, aerodynamic, and sets up in under 60 seconds... the latter of which is a key feature that should make our overland trips, whether an overnight or month-long adventure, easier and more pleasant in many regards.

That's it for now. Talk soon, and thanks for following along.

Ryan

I am absolutely elated to announce that I won OverlandExpo's national photo contest with my "Epic Winch Pull" photograph. As the grand prize, Dani and I will be bringing the Jeep down to OverlandExpo East next fall just south of Asheville, North Carolina. Not only will this be an amazing opportunity to meet with other overland enthusiasts from across the country and check out their vehicles, but we'll also get to attend a myriad of classes for navigation, mechanical maintenance, technical driving, and more. I'm very excited to be able to display the Trailhawk during the weekend-long event, highlighting the modifications & installations I've done to it over the last year, and the continued advancements that will happen in the coming months.

I just wanted to take a second to thank each and every one of you who took the time to vote for my image. It seems that 2018 is already flying by but I promise there are big plans for travel, hiking, photos, and even more narratives of adventure. Can't wait to see where the rest of the year takes us, and I hope you'll come along for the ride!

Onward & upward,

Ryan

Hey all!

So I found out today that one of my photos (below) was voted into the Overland Expo Photo Contest, and last night was chosen by judges as one of the top 8 images. Overland Expo is the host of two gigantic events - one on each coast- where overlanders get together to show off their vehicles, check out new equipment, meet other people with the same passions, and share stories of adventure. I was hoping you all might take a chance to vote for the photo, potentially allowing me to go to the 2018 Expo! By their rules you can vote once per day, per IP address.

Thanks so much for the consideration, and perhaps even your vote!

Here's the link:

Overland Expo Photo Contest

Here's the story:

While winter wheeling with a friend in New Hampshire’s White Mountains my Jeep broke through thick ice of a frozen-over river, requiring recovery from my buddy’s JKU. I took a moment to photograph him pulling the FlatLink at the end of his winch line towards the Grand Cherokee to pull me back safely. The photo was handheld, taken at ISO400, f/2.8, 1/50" exposure.

And here's the image:
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 Happy New Year’s Eve.
 
I promised a friend I’d get this summer’s trip write-up finished by the end of the year… This fall proved to be exceptionally busy and life certainly hasn’t slowed down in the last few weeks. As such, I sit here in very cold Boston, Massachusetts (it's -12°F with windchill) watching Rockin’ New Years Eve on ABC and writing the finale blog post to a summer of adventure… so here we go, the storyline of the last 530 miles of the journey.
 
I slept soundly in Puxatawney, waking with the sun and quickly packing away the gear inside the Jeep. I snapped a quick photo of the “campsite” and was on my way again, navigating the sleepy back roads before eventually arriving back on I-80 eastbound. My dreams of cruising along through Pennsylvania were quickly shattered as traffic backed up for miles due to seemingly endless construction. Knowing that my days were numbered as a roadway traveler, I rolled the windows down and turned up the music, enjoying the rolling green hills around me as I worked my way towards Poughkeepsie, NY. My plan was to complete the 300 mile route to visit my aunts and grandparents, spend the night, then head on back to home in Boston. 

Shortly after 10h00 the traffic cleared up, and within an hour I saw my first Massachusetts license plate. With cruise control set to 70 I passed by corn fields and under party cloudy skies, eventually turning onto I-84 around Scranton, PA and seeing the “Welcome to New York” sign shortly thereafter. I pulled into Poughkeepsie in the mid-afternoon and spent an enjoyable afternoon relaxing with family and showing them the photos of the trip I’d so far had the ability to catalogue and touch up. We ate an early dinner at one of my grandparents most frequented local restaurants, and I fell asleep not long after the sun went down.

​The next morning came quickly, and I stared out the window at an overcast world while a gentle rain fell on the Hudson Valley. I ate a quick breakfast and talked about plans for future exploration endeavors with my grandfather – a man who always saves New York Times obituaries of great adventurers for me to read. Somewhat anxious to get home, I loaded what little gear I had brought inside and hugged my grandparents before hitting the road around 11. As I headed towards the Taconic State Parkway the rain steadily increased in volume, eventually becoming a downpour by the time I got to I-90. The three and a half hour drive went by without a hitch, and crossing back under the Boston skyline put a huge smile on my face and a sense of sadness in my heart. Crossing over the Zakim and Tobin bridges and getting off the highway, I pulled into my driveway and sat in the driver’s seat for a while without moving, a light rain still falling on the Jeep's roof.
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It had been 24 days since leaving this same place, and our Trans-Canada Overland Expedition, as I've come to call it, had covered 6,793.3 miles across 5 Canadian provinces and 11 U.S. states. We averaged 23 miles per gallon over the distance, consuming just under 300 gallons of gasoline, 176 of which were purchased as Canadian liters. We carried a reasonably sized and exceptionally reliable array of vehicular gear, mechanical equipment, radio/comms/navigation systems, camping gear, and photography equipment, the majority of which was used almost daily. With the sole exception of what was now a sizable crack in my windshield from the dump truck in North Dakota, we had traveled nearly 7,000 miles without an accident or police interaction of any kind. We saw two of the most beautiful national parks I’ve ever laid my eyes on, stood and camped under vast starry skies, and soaked up some of the most indescribably brilliant colors beaming up from lakes so spectacular I’ll never be able to adequately describe them to you. The trip was a complete success, and one that will forever serve as a basis for a passion in long-distance overlanding and even weekend backcountry exploration on wheels.
 
Thank you all for following along and sending in your thoughts, comments, and compliments; above all though, a special thanks to each of you for your endless support of and enthusiasm towards adventure.
 
It’s 23h28 as I finish typing this... meaning I’ll be able to publish the blog before midnight on the last day of 2017, as promised. Happy New Year to all, and best wishes for your year ahead... I'm sure we’ll talk soon :)
 
Onward & upward,
 
Ryan McKee

​I slept like I was dead on a full stomach of delicious food. It was easy to see that the past few days of traversing the U.S. was taking a slight toll on my body, and I was somewhat looking forward to getting home and relaxing for a while. I took a hot shower and joined Marcus and Molly in the kitchen for breakfast, enjoying a half hour of a family lifestyle, something I’ve long since been absent from in my own life, as their son Andrew got ready to take his driver’s permit test that morning. I was out the door by 08h00 and on the road just in time to be caught up in Chicago’s morning traffic. It was Wednesday August 16th, and I had 1,100 miles to go until I was back in Boston. For the first time since leaving Calgary, I had no real plan as to where I needed to be at the end of the day. I only knew I wanted to be within cruising distance of Poughkeepsie, NY for the next day, where I was hoping to visit with my aunts and grandparents. 

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Despite the traffic I crossed into Indiana within an hour, thereby entering my 6th state since the border crossing in Wild Horse in Montana. The highway eventually opened up again and I set the cruise control for 75, happily moving along with the music up and listening to occasional chatter on the CB and HAM radios in the cab of the Jeep. By the late morning I was into Ohio, the sun shining overhead and casting its light down on the vast fields that skirted both sides of the highway. Shortly after noon I stopped for a quick lunch at a highway rest-stop and found myself staring at a map of notable locations in Ohio; there hadn’t been much by way of beautiful photography opportunities in the past few days and I was itching to see something aside the paved roads and reflective paint lines that sprawled out endlessly ahead of me. As far as accessibility was concerned my options seemed few; I could go an hour out of my way to photograph a lighthouse on the shore of Lake Erie, arriving far too early for any kind of sunset opportunity, or I could move forward an hour or so to the small town of Milan where I could visit the childhood home of one Mr. Thomas Alva Edison. The latter option quickly became the obvious choice.
 
Hopping off the highway and following signs for the village of Milan, I wandered down quiet streets with beautifully homes on either side until I arrived at a small brick home on a dead-end road. I hopped out of the Jeep and entered through a door labeled “Office” as a half dozen other people walked out. Paying the reasonable $7 entry fee for the tour, I joined the family I had just seen next door in the brick home and began what ended up being an absolutely fantastic tour of the Birthplace of Edison. Being in the technical industry where Edison and Tesla are often argued against each other, I know a fair bit about Thomas’ inventions and mishaps in the invention process, so naturally as the tour guide quizzed the group I would answer as best I knew. By the end of the tour she simply referred to me as “Boston” and seemed to expect I’d have the answer to every question she inquired. At the end of the tour as the family made their way back to the car, I spoke with the tour guide a bit more as she asked what brought me by Milan. Her husband is a backcountry hiker and son was attending school in Vermont, so we spoke at length about the Appalachian Trail and Long Trail hikes. Before leaving I asked about her opinion regarding places to stop for the night and she pointed me towards Ohio’s Cuyahoga Valley National Park, located another hour east on I-80. I plotted the destination in the iPad’s navigation software and eased my way back out of town as quietly as I had come.

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Somewhere between Milan and the National Park, on the phone with Dani as she finished work, I looked down at the odometer to witness the Jeep (now 8 months old) roll from 9,999 miles over to 10,000. Being the first brand new car I’ve ever purchased, I’ve never had an odometer be that low to witness this moment, which I found to be very exciting.. quite the long trip this had been! As the sun began sinking in the sky I pulled off towards Cuyahoga Valley and found myself a nice open field in the park to have dinner at. I laid out my laptop and the Coleman stove on a picnic bench and began cooking a tuna and pasta meal and blogging simultaneously as families and their dogs wandered around the park grounds. As soon as my meal was completed I washed my dishes and packed up my gear, returning to the Jeep and doing some research as to any known “wild-camp” sites I could reach on the western side of Pennsylvania before calling it a night. Using a little creativity with Google’s Earth View mode, I found a little dirt clearing on the side of a forest access road on the outskirts of of Punxsutawney, PA where I’d aim for.
 
The ride would take another 3 hours, the majority of which I’d spend in the pitch black on an otherwise empty highway with the 30” LED bar blazing the path ahead of me with light. My music was loud and the moon roof open allowing the warm summer night’s air into the cabin. Shortly before 23h00 I pulled off the interstate and found my way along the breadcrumb trail of the GPS to the wild-camp site I had selected. I backed the Jeep up off the dirt roadway and turned on the reverse lights to illuminate the area as I set up my camp for the night. The stars shone brilliantly overhead, leading me to snap a few images with my camera before climbing into the Jeep and laying down for the night, hearing the crickets chirp outside through the windows I had vented for air circulation. In a million years I’d never have guessed I’d be camping in Punxsutawney Phil’s hometown, but here I was… another day further east, closer to home, and absolutely exhausted.
 

​I woke up early to have breakfast with Greg and Carol before heading off on my next leg, a 450 mile haul to the Chicago suburbs where I’d spend the night with my buddy Marcus and his family. The ride was to be relatively straightforward, taking I-94 and I-90 for 6 and a half hours before arriving in Lemont, IL. Quickly packing up the Jeep after a toasted bagel with an assortment of cream cheese options, I made use of being in Minneapolis and stopped by my friend Emma’s house (Greg’s daughter) to meet her three young boys. Hanging out for half an hour or so, I hopped back in the Grand Cherokee and headed towards the highway. The weather was absolutely perfect, in the mid-60s with the sun shining and wispy clouds in the air. I rolled the windows down and rolled my eyes as I eased onto the brakes and made my way into the stop-and-go traffic of Minneapolis’ morning commuter traffic.

 
With the promise of Marcus’ famous homemade BBQ waiting for me in Lemont, I knew my day was to destined to have minimal distractions en route. I had but one instruction: to stop in Osseo, Wisconsin, at the famous Norske Nook Bakery to pick up pies. Two hours after my departure I pulled off the highway and began following the GPS down the quiet back roads of Osseo. Easily finding parking alongside the bakery, I wandered inside to discovery a little breakfast restaurant with a wide array of pies lining the food display cases. I had been given specific instruction from Marcus to get a banana cream pie for him and strawberry-rhubarb for his wife Molly… I then of course needed a slice of raspberry pie for myself. The challenge with the pies was keeping them from baking in the sun over the course of the remaining hours of my drive. Of course I had the fridge in the back, but fitting the gigantic pies required me emptying out everything else from inside and then rearranging it all. Not wanting to let Marcus down with his one simple wish for pie, I sat on the edge of the road in this tiny little town and unloaded every piece of produce from the fridge onto the sidewalk and wiggled the pies in (with less than a millimeter to spare on each side) and piled everything else that would fit back in on top and discarding food I knew I wouldn’t be consuming before getting home.

I drove slowly back out of town, cruising down wide roads with small houses and manicured front lawns before merging back onto the highway and back into the figurative slipstream of interstate travel. Everything was going flawlessly until I reached for my single slice of pie and realized I didn’t have a utensil to eat it with. Fear not, I flipped on my hazard and strobe lights and pulled over to the side of the road to fish one out of our cooking gear in the back of the Jeep. I was laughing as 18-wheelers were moving over into different lanes to give me space in the brake-down lane as they whizzed by… if only they could have known I was simply looking for a fork to eat my pie with.
 

I hit the traffic starting about 40 minutes outside of Chicago, making a brief pit-stop to fill up the Grand Cherokee’s tank and getting back on the road. I’d been getting text messages all afternoon of the food Marcus was preparing, and I was eager to get there. I crossed the Illinois state line just after 15h30, and arrived at his place about an hour later. We spent the night sitting around the table on his back porch with neighbors, family, and a few friends from work who were in town doing production for an event in the city. The vast array of food was incredible and I did my best to pace myself to ensure I consumed as much as I could. We finished the night with the Norske Nook pies I had carried 350 miles for dessert, and I retired to bed on a massively full stomach. It had been a relatively short day in comparison to the long hauls the two days prior, and I rested well knowing that the trip was slowly nearing its end. 
 

​There’s an exciting and simultaneously disorienting feeling when waking up in the back of an SUV in the middle of a massive and otherwise empty field in the Midwest. I packed up my camping gear into the appropriate storage locations and hit the road as the sun crested the hilly horizon, following along Route 200 for about ten miles to meet up with I-94, the road I’d ultimately be spending most of my day on. I stopped at a huge gas station to fill the tank, happily paying $2.23 a gallon at my first re-fuel in the United States in three week’s time, and grabbed a quick breakfast sandwich before hitting the road again. My goal for the day was to reach Minneapolis by dinner time, where I’d be spending the night with a long time family friend Greg and his fiancée. 
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Merging eastbound onto I-94, I was happy to see that the highway was relatively empty, leaving me to move along without interruption from the GPS for the next 547 miles; I was relaxed and simply in the mood to cruise.  The road started fluctuating in elevation as I moved towards, and eventually into, North Dakota. I stopped for a bit at a scenic vista of the Little Missouri National Grasslands, listening to music with the windows down and taking a few photographs as other drivers stopped to do the same. Getting back onto I-94 I was almost immediately greeted with stones being thrown towards the Jeep by two large trailers full of construction gravel. Though I didn’t notice it at the time, one of the harshest impacts ended up creating a large crack in the lower passenger side of my windshield which would end up growing to nearly 18” long by the time I reached Boston a few days later. I sped by the trucks as quickly as possible, passing (and giggling) at the sign for Exit 7 to “Home On The Range, North Dakota”, swearing to myself I wouldn’t stop until I was an hour or two away and well out of the trucks proximity with hopes of never seeing them again. 
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Lunch was later in the day, set up on the side of a long dirt road that paralleled miles and miles of sunflower fields. I made up a sandwich with meats and cheese we had left in the Grand Cherokee’s Dometic refrigerator and soaked in the sunshine before moving on, referencing the clock and the iPad’s GPS to see that I was doing well on time and mileage. I refueled again in the mid-afternoon and texted Greg to let him know when I’d be arriving in Minneapolis for dinner. Pulling into the city limits around 18h30, I stared out over a semi-familiar skyline and noticed an incredibly dirty hood in my peripheral vision. As I’m not the kind of traveler who would ever show up to a friends house with a vehicle covered in thousands upon thousands of miles of adventure and road dust, I quickly referenced the iPad and changed my routing to the nearest touch-less wash. After a thorough rinsing I covered the remaining distance to Greg and Carol’s home in Minnetonka, MN. We ate a delicious home cooked meal and stayed up late talking about travel and happenings in all of our lives.
 
Shortly before 23h00 I took a quick shower and climbed into their very comfy guest bed, exhausted after the 650-mile solo journey from a vacant field in Big Sky Country to the metropolitan suburbs of Minneapolis. Mile by mile, hour by hour, this adventure was coming closer to an end.
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