My first steps of going home - the end of the travels in the 'American West'

Memories of CA - Street art in Venice Beach
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When I climbed up onto the footplate this morning...I was taking my first steps on my way home.

It would take another two weeks to get there. I'd covered the Amtrak to Salt Lake City first, the train pushing through the hard snows of the Sierra Nevada mountains (including the infamous Donner pass) all the way to the Colorado Rockies. There I took two days out to try skiing at Glenwood Springs and sped down the snowy slopes of Mt Compo and the Ute Indian Vapour caves. Then it was a long slog over the Great Plains to a snowy Chicago where a few days were spent killing time at the Art Institut and Michigan Avenue. Then finally to a rainy New York and goodbye to the United States.

The things I have seen have been out of this world - Yosemite, the Golden Gate, the Taos Pueblo, the Grand Canyon and the madness of Las Vegas. The

Memories of CA - Downtown San Francisco
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I've had the time of my life and couldnt have asked for a better destination to explore. It has surpassed expectation. The highlight was easily the 'American West' and the stretch that for me started at the Mexican border at El Paso and finished in beautiful San Francisco. The things I have seen have been out of this world - Yosemite, the Golden Gate, the Taos Pueblo, the Grand Canyon and the madness of Las Vegas. The people I have met have been on the whole terrific and it was interesting to meet middle-class affluent America in San Diego plus I have forgotten how many good nights I have had just sitting in a hostel and chatting, swapping stories of where we have been and where we were going.

Memories of CA - Yosemite NP
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But San Francisco had one more surprise for me this morning. The Australian in the next bed to me got up at 2.00am and lit up a cigarette. With the streetlights lighting up the room my bodyclock told me it was morning. I was packed, washed and gone from the hostel in half an hour and before I knew it I was catching a bus down Market Street. It was only when I entered the Transbay Terminal and saw the armies of sleeping vagrants that it dawned on me - it was only 3.30am!

Of all the stupid things to do! There were hundreds of homeless sleeping rough in the main hall of the Transbay terminal and my bus didnt leave to 6.00am. So I went and sat in the police area and stayed there until 6.00am until the first Amtrak bus left. So my final look at San Francisco was whizzing over the Oakland Bridge absolutely exhausted from lack of sleep..

The 'Californian Zephyr' goes all the way to Chicago but I was only staying on until Glenwood Springs. It was two hours late and the great monstrous engine finally pulled in and I climbed aboard the gangplank.

A tear in my eye? I think it was just grit? But I cant be sure of that...