Up early after fitful sleep. Checked everything out and went out for breakfast in sleepy Winnemucca. After eating less than winning grub among the gold miners (only a rich stones throw from Swamp People) I started on the final 200 miles.
At breakfast I texted the fam back home and only got fun replys from Abby. Later, now 40 miles down the road, I get a call from her saying she is on the way to the hospital where Beth's Mom has been taken.
Some history. I first did Burning Man by myself because Beth was still teaching and I needed to do something very different in my first official days of retirement. It was also a great way to psychologically thumb my nose at the lymphoma that did its best to knock me down in the preceeding year. Later, Beth stayed home because B.M. sounded horrible to her and a couple of years later she felt the proper need to take care of her Mom. (now 98) We went through a panicked call and a mad dash home on our first T@B trip and Beth was determined not to do it again.
So zipping down possibly the most empty stretches of I-80 a new set of thoughts was unexpectedly distracting this driver. I pulled into the next town where I had a 3rd cup of coffee and a sweet roll waiting for a status call. Long story short, Beth says her Mom has had a stroke and is waiting for an imminent MRI. Having gone through this some years ago with Beth's Dad all manner of scenarios now played in my mind. The most immediate being: do I turn around and head home?
Realizing I had to wait for MRI results and knowing that the first thing that had to be done was to change the oil in the truck, (the original plan was to do this immediately after B.M.) without a decent garage in the town I was in I proceeded as planned to the next town: Fernley. The last town of any size, I could get the oil changed and begin the return trip if needed. The very instant I turned off the truck Abby called to say that Grandma was doing great. Beth added that she was alert, responsive and the plan was to keep her overnight and send her home. That good news put me back on the trail to B.M. with the proviso that I have to nail down one of the rare methods of getting messages on the Playa. With plans on both ends in place I depart for a quick trip to the desert.
Not so fast...
Halfway there the long line of cars on the single lane road just stops. We sit for 30 minutes, people (both genders) get out to pee just off the road in a barren desert landscape. Eventually we crawl back to cruising speed. Then it happens again. And again. By now I know the names of the drivers of vehicles 3 or 4 ahead AND behind me. I've given a couple T@B tours and added several rocks to cairns alongside the road. (I always wondered how they came to be there) An hour and a half trip turns into 3 and finally!! I'm on the desert floor. Four and a half agonizing hours later I enter Black Rock City with 5,000 other vehicles all looking to set up random campsites in a rapidly filling city. There are already over 38,000 people here and @55,000 plus are expected by morning. It takes me a full hour to decide where to camp. I'm just off 5:30 and John Frum street. (Look it up!)
Camp basically made (will complete tomorrow), this story told, I will be content to let the playa come to me and will crash. A sparkly new giant cupcake just rolled by.
As they say here: Welcome Home!!!
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