As we departed, every twist and turn, acceleration and deceleration through Tuolomine Meadows caused back pain. Even though I was downing the Advil every four hours there was no end to my backache. Eventually we were counting miles on the perfectly surveyed stretches of Highway 50, beelining through Nevada. The state had never seemed so immense. Without finding comfort on the bench seat, I uneasily sat unable to sleep.

My thoughts drifted. I felt bad about having to leave the route, bad that Iíd ruined the trip, bad because the reality of the injury was setting in. I felt bad because the last memories with one of my best friends were of disappointment and failure. In fact, I just felt bad. Stretches of road that had been mere memories en route to the Valley became novels on the drive home. Even though I tried to hide my agony, I felt only despair. The road had become an iron fist.

I kept my thoughts to myself and kept up the positve attitude, I kept saying just give me a few days rest and we can fly back and free the route just before I move to Austria. It will all work out and Yosemite will recieve another class VI bigwall free route. I was like a magnet, two opposite poles without any balance. My insides turned inside out as I hid my agony behind my optomistic banter.

At midnight, after 12 horrible hours on the road, we passed through Ely, Nevada. We wanted a room but found nothing: Ely was entirely booked due to some kind of sports tournament and gambling expo. Disgusted, upset and tired, we pushed on into the dark unforgiving Nevada desert and found refuge on the top of a mountain. Without the use of my back, I couldnít even help unload the tent or the sleeping bags. I might as well have been handicapped. I found myself feeling helpless as an infant and standing next to the truck trying to stay out of the way. The hours on the road had taken their toll. Again Mike took care silently and efficiently.

That night‘s sleep was restless, filled with dreams of how the trip was supposed to be. As thunder cracked in the distance and lightening drew near, morning crept over the Humbolt Toiyable National Forest, awakening us. We had 600+ miles and 12 hours left to go. No breakfast, no real conversation, just a longing to complete the drive as quickly as possible. In the morning I wanted to help take care of camp but was only capable of brushing my teeth and eating some gas station white powdered doughnuts. The morning brought reality back to me and the boredom of a long drive, however there was a light at the end of the tunnel since at the end of the day I would be home. I was drained, tired, and nursing not only the physical pain but the mental anguish of failure and injury. Leave it to the road to bring the best out of every situation. My awareness was heightend to make me truly remember the day. I had 11 days left until I moved to Europe, and I dreaded having to fight through all the logistics while in grievous amounts of pain.

Itís been a few months since the fall. The other day, I was flipping through photos of other road trips and I noticed that I didnít have any of the way home from the Valley: no smiles recorded while peeing on the side of the road, no great laughs from that funny skit on the Chapelle Show. What I did remember was stopping to use the restroom at a close to the border Utah Mcdonalds. We bought some of those tastey hot apple pies when I noticed the red box in the restaurant. What was this I asked myself? It turns out that you can rent for a dollar movies from Mcdonalds. I quickly searched through the selection list and found happiness. When I showed Mike his eyes lit up and I caught a glimmer of hope. We had found something to take away the monotomy of the Utah portion of the drive. Each of us had cross those miles so many times there wasn’t anything new to see except for the movie. Now it didn’t really matter what we rented, but what did matter was that our minds were off the dissapointment and failure and on this hollywood mastepiece. When the movie was over we were just a few miles from Colorado and even though we were still a few hours from home everything was alright. I hate to say it but at our lowest moment on the road, Mcdonalds came through, yeah "I’m lovin it".

I got home late that night and crashed in my bed. No one was home to complain or relate the story too, tomorrow was Sunday and I hoped for a quick emergency room visit. I hoped to discover that I could fight the pain and climb in a few days. After showing me the X-rays the doctor said that I was fine and that he didn’t see any problems in my back. He even said that if I could deal with the pain to go and finish the route. I couldn’t believe it! I have been an athelete my whole life and I can’t bend down or even walk fast and he tells me that nothing was wrong, and to go climbing. Now I remembered why I didn’t go see a doctor in California and why I never go to the doctor, they are full of it.

Another day later a friend said to check out the chiropractor. I knew that chiropractors were just another word for voodoo but because I need closure before the move I went anyway. To my surprise after a full spinal x-ray, he found the damage and assured me that I would be ok. He said that it looked like the bones were already fusing, that I wouldn’t need surgury and that climbing in the near future would be a bad idea, but that I would be fine after resting a few months.

I finished my waning days in the states going to the chiropractor, hanging out with my closest friends, eating like a fool and watching more TV then I care to see again in my life. The move to Europe was pleasant at best and made a bit easier because a great friend Andy Burr joined me for the first couple of weeks. Months have passed, I have healed, trained and am stronger than ever. One road trip had ended while a whole new one has just begun. It seems that no matter what happens to me during my life, whether I like it or not I end up on the road. Even though my last experience with the blacktop sent me its worst, it still calls to me daily, fills my thoughts as my students move between classes and grabs hold of me every weekend. There’s no place like home, theres no place like the road.

Read part 1 and Read part 3. See more photos by Andrew Burr from Arcturus, Half Dome.