Berta didn’t fall, but she did falter a little…

Lizzy and Rory

We’d spent the last two days hanging out with my great mate Lizzy and her 2.5 year old son, Rory. As you do when you meet at the airport, we’d figured out that we hadn’t seen each other in nearly four years and so much had happened in that time. Not least of all both of us marrying our sweethearts and her becoming a Mum. With only a short time together, we managed to pack in a little sight seeing, much to Rory’s and our pleasure. A trip into San Francisco on the train had Rory in raptures, he was a train lover and so being on one was a treat. After hearing about his week in Idaho with his Dad’s family, we were going to have a tough time topping the quadbikes, diggers and sheds of the farm but we were going to try our hardest!

A walk around the city’s waterfront took us to a collection of seals at the end of the marina. Not a touristy spot, we wandered through an open gate and to the end of a pier to watch these miscreants make noise and fuss about their spot in the sun on the floating floor. Rory was curious but I think it was the adults that got more laughter out of them. When their bodily smells turned us off we carried on to the ferry building where we had an hour or so to kill before our boat ride over to Sausalito and back. Good thing it was lunch time! We enjoyed Peruvian food from Colita Linda in the sun with a beer.

Though it was cold outside and the Golden Gate Bridge was covered in fog, we appreciated the sun as our ferry took us out into the Bay north to Sausalito. A familiar trip from our bike riding trips, but we’d never done it in this direction. Rory was excited to see the sailboats around us and it was a pleasure to hear Lizzy explain the Alcatraz prison to him. “Baddie Island” it became known as. At Sausalito, there was talks of hopping off the boat for an ice cream, but the weather was not conducive for it and we had a date back in the city so we remained on board while the tourists shuffled off. The destination didn’t matter so much to Rory when it came to trains and boats, it was the journey itself. Isn’t that what we’re taught about life? Smart kid.

The captain went especially slow as we passed by Alcatraz, so much so that we could wave at the people milling about at its dock waiting to be taken away from Baddie Island.

Back on the main land, we were greeted by a huge line of commuters waiting for the Larkspur ferry. Dan and I contemplated their commute and figured out that at $7.50 a ticket, that’s cheaper than driving a car over the Golden Gate Bridge at $8.80 and much, much faster, so why wouldn’t you?

In a random twist of fate, Lizzy’s brother who hails from London was in town and, having only figured out that they’d be near each other last minute, we tried to catch up. I was excited to meet Chris who I’d heard so much about and though they’d seen each other within the last 6 months, it’s always good to see family, especially when there are children involved who are growing up so fast. We walked to Union Square and after some shenanigans walking a few blocks to find each other, we found Chris and sat ourselves down in the square to catch up. A lovely guy, as much a happy chatter as his sister, we had a great hour or so together before he had to go off to his night of business “meetings”.

Now for another train ride! We must have walked over five miles already but we were happy for it. The bike trailer turned stroller that Ross had lent to us was getting properly put to use and Rory was enjoying himself. As usual, we stopped in at the Safeway for some treats before boarding the not-very-busy train for the trip home. Rory, having got to know us a bit better, had lots to say about everything he saw out the window. He counted the other trains we saw and had a giggle when he knocked his head on the window as we went through a tunnel.

After a walk home in the near-dark, we had a light dinner while Rory played trains and we caught up some more.

The next day, we loaded bikes, bike stroller, toddler and friend into the SVT for a trip down to Santa Cruz. Ross and Levi happened to be free so I figured they might enjoy each other’s company and a bike ride along Santa Cruz’s foreshore. It was a nice connection too since I’m good mates with Ross’ sister Jayne who Lizzy also knows in Brisbane. When the boys met, they were predictably shy despite us figuring out they were only a few days apart in age. Inside, Rory found out that Levi had a train set so they were soon fast friends playing in the corner while we caught up and talked bikes. We almost had to tear the boys away when it was time to roll.

Lizzy had a few practice runs on Jen’s e-bike before we rigged up trailers and set off through Paradise Park. I think this was Lizzy’s favorite bit, despite the parts of Santa Cruz we would see later. The Redwood Forest campground turned weird isolated suburb had a magical feel to it and Lizzy could sense that. I towed Rory behind me while Lizzy rode alongside and she tried in earnest to show Rory the natural beauty surrounding us. Unfortunately, the trees weren’t diggers and there were no boats floating on the small river babbling below us, so his eyes weren’t quite popping out of his head.

Levi, also a digger and crane enthusiast, was a great tour guide as we rode along the wash, always letting us know when a big one was coming up that was worth stopping for. At the foreshore, they pulled out their best tip. A HUGE digger working in a big lot, cutting into the side of a hill and putting buckets of dirt into trucks that just kept showing up. We had to move a few times to get out of the way of the trucks but wow were they moving some earth.

As we rode along to the end of the pier, we appreciated the weekday crowd and soon heard the main attraction at the end of the pier. The seals. These guys were ridiculous compared to those we’d seen in the city the day before.

Looking down through viewing areas in the floor of the pier, we could see hundreds of seals lazing about on the lower structure of the pier, jammed in like sardines either sedated in sleep or the complete opposite – fighting for their patch of pier or trying (and often failing) to get up onto the big timber beams from the water a few feet below. It was mesmerizing watching them.

Once the kids lost interest, Dan and I watched both Ross and Lizzy do the parent dance where they follow a little ways behind their child as they explore their environment – at the ready in case of mishap or danger to pull them away. It was good entertainment just seeing these kids interpret their surroundings and exploring them at will.

With our tummies grumbling, we de-piered and rode a short ways to a Mexican place just back from the main street. A Ross recommendation, they served up some delicious food which we enjoyed in the sun.

With Jonah’s school pick-up time looming, we rode back to Paradise Park and despite our efforts to keep him awake a little longer, Rory fell asleep in the trailer on the way back. Once there, us tourists saw Ross and Levi to their house then continued riding around Paradise Park to keep Rory in a slumber. It didn’t last. When he knew the game was up, we stopped at a park so he could have a play. As he and Lizzy ventured down slippery slides, Dan and I played Bocci ball in what turned into a heated battle. Back at the house, Jonah had returned from school and we had a mini-piano lesson as the boys played trains in the corner. We swapped stories for the rest of the afternoon over some beers. We almost had to drag Rory away from the train set when it was time to leave but he was happy enough to give Levi a wave in return for his enthusiastic one.

Cleo was happy to see us back at our place and we had a few hours before the travelers needed to be at the airport. Another light dinner and some packing, then we were all off in the SVT again. Us being parental noobs, we had a bit of trouble removing the car seat but saw my friend and her child off successfully. What a treat it was, not only for me but also my husband who is yet to travel to my home country. When Lizzy had originally planned her visit – an opportunistic stop-off between Idaho and the Cayman Islands, she said that I shouldn’t take time off work just for her sake. I shut her down immediately and was glad I did, to see her and get even the smallest taste of life back home, I was grateful. And she’d finally met my dirtbag.

Time to Kill

With the way I’d taken time off work, we had five days between Lizzy’s visit and our next adventure in Austin. Since Berta’s last trip, we hadn’t done a huge amount of upgrades, mechanical or build, but had made a few fundamental changes to the interior layout that we wanted to try. We now had swivel seats for both driver and passenger, the bench was shifted to the rear and the filing cabinet moved to the passenger side. Probably the best innovation we’d added was a self-closing fly screen to cover the side door, though we wouldn’t end up using it this trip. We would soon find out that these changes were huge and gave us the feel that we wanted for the inside of the van.

We did the usual on our first day of the trip, taking our sweet time packing the van, getting the bike ready (only mine this time since the Giant was still not functioning), the climbing gear in and doing our mechanical checks. We left home with enough time to camp before dark and we didn’t mind the traffic heading north. The Golden Gate Bridge for once was not shrouded in cloud which made for a pretty drive over the Bay. Apart from a short stop off the highway for a driveshaft adjustment (we were still trying to nail down a pesky wobble at 50-60 mph), the drive was smooth.

As usual, we didn’t have a plan on where to go so we figured we’d head towards the site of our last Berta failure – Mount Tamalpais. As the sun set behind the fog, we drove into the redwoods and parked in a large pullout just inside the state park, fully illegal I’m sure, but the road was quiet enough.

Excited, Dan had the swivel seats turned around within minutes of parking up and we sat to contemplate our van future with the side door wide open to enjoy the view. That was short lived thanks to the cold but once dinner was cooked, we sat back in our comfy seats, Cleo snoring in her bed under our bed and were happy.

Above the Clouds

I can’t say we woke with the sun because we couldn’t tell if it was up or down. The sound of motorists and a little later, cyclists, were our indication that the day had started. After breakfast we started on our way up the mountain. We battled with the wet clouds all the way up the mountain and were courteous to the brave cyclists that pushed up the narrow winding road.

We passed the site of our fuse breakdown and nearing the peak, got hints of blue sky through the thick fog. The blue toyed with us for a good few miles until, just shy of the carpark, the sun shone bright and all we could see below us were white fluffies.

The carpark was not busy with cars, but was a hive of activity from cyclists and hikers. This was helpful since we didn’t have any cash and therefore couldn’t pay the $8 day use fee. After walking into the visitor’s center looking for an ATM or way to pay the fee, I ended up asking a group of hikers if they could spare some cash in exchange for a Venmo payback. Within a minute, I had $8 cash in my hand and they insisted I didn’t pay them back, “too old to have Venmo!” was their claim. I vowed to pay it forward and they were happy with that. I also got $50 cash out in $1 bills on our way home so I didn’t have to become a full time beggar.

While I was doing my begging, Dan was having fun with our stadium chairs and climbing gear, rigging himself a hanging chair to enjoy his morning coffee in. It was a good proof of concept but short lived since it was time to get on the mountain!

We packed some lunch and started on our way up the timber-lined path that would take us to the peak of Mt. Tam. We were delighted to see that dogs were permitted on the trail so we had no guilt as we climbed the steady grade.

Wow were these views impressive. Sunglasses were essential thanks to the glare coming off the bright white clouds below us. You’d think a view like this would be boring since the landscape below was invisible but it was just the opposite. Everywhere you looked was just cloud, it was like being on a plane.

It was barely a mile to the peak and then we did some scoping along trails around the peak to find our crag – one of only two on the mountain and each pretty small. After some bush bashing and trail finding, we found our spot and owned it, spreading our gear out and putting Cleo in the shade with some water to cool off. It was hot up here above the clouds, a far cry from the temperature of our camp last night! I was regretting my choice of long pants and we felt pretty stupid for carrying our down jackets all this way.

We enjoyed some beautiful, easy climbing for the rest of the morning and into the afternoon, all the while marveling at the view below us. The rock was volcanic and therefore very featured and after one trad lead, we top roped the rest of the routes. I can’t say I really enjoyed building multiple anchors by slinging large boulders at the top of the routes, but the result was more time spent enjoying the view so I can’t complain too much.

When we broke for lunch, Dan realized we were one chair short and so bush bashed back the way we’d come to see where it had fallen off his pack. He returned a few minutes later with success and sat to eat his lunch. These were new additions to our climbing rack and well worth it for the comfort we were given.

The view started to change now with small pieces of Sausalito starting to show themselves underneath the cloud and by the time we left the crag, most of the landscape was in full view.

We struggled a little to get out from the crag, opting to try a different way out that was ok for me who had to retrieve gear from the top of the crag, but not so good for Dan carrying the pack. He may have yelled a few swear words as he made his way through the brush, but he emerged without too many scratches.

We passed many hikers on our way down and even a pair of climbers that we were happy to see – it was a Saturday after all and we’d been surprised to have the crag to ourselves.

Back down at the carpark with nowhere to be in a hurry, we checked out the Gravity Car Barn and learned that Mt. Tam had been a tourist attraction way back in the early 1900s. Travelers would come from all over to ride the “Crookedest Railroad in the World” to the peak of Mt. Tam where they’d be greeted by the Tavern of Tamalpais and its boarding house where guests could party the night away and spend the night. The next day, they’d ride in “gravity cars” down the mountain. A simple train cart without a train, there would be a brake operator sitting up front to control the car’s speed as it rolled through the redwood forest in silence. What a trip that would be.

Still without much of a plan, we pulled out our Atlas and decided to simply keep heading north. The clouds had crept back up to the summit so we were in the fog all the way back down to sea level.

The fog was still with us when we neared Bodega Bay and as the light faded from the day, we started to understand just how much the north coast hated van campers. Every tiny little pull-out, viewpoint and carpark you could see had a no overnight parking sign. While we were used to see the icons of a tent crossed out, suggesting no camping, this was my first time seeing an icon of an RV crossed out. They were serious!

Not dissuaded, we did a few tours up and down the sleepy roads of Bodega Bay and settled on an equestrian parking area/construction storage area right behind a large campground. As we took Cleo for a walk, we could hear the common sounds coming the campground and felt a little smug at our free camp just over the fence. As I was cooking dinner, we heard a vehicle pull up behind us and in the morning we would see it was another Sprinter van, but the $100,000 version of ours.

Goat Rock

Another morning with nowhere to be, but we didn’t want to hang around. Dan was still snoozing early morning, so I took Cleo out for a walk through this sleepy seaside town. We wandered through a back street, then onto the marina, making a loop back to the van. During the last quarter mile, I could see our van and the truck and horse trailer that pulled up next to it, its owners taking a few attempts at decided where to park. That was enough to make me wanna get out of their way.

We made ourselves scarce and parked up at Bodega Bay Trailhead to cook up some breakfast. Still foggy, the view of the ocean looked mean and scary. We immediately saw seals frolicking around in the water and early morning fishing boats speeding out to their secret spots.

It was a while before anyone else showed up at the carpark but by the time we left it was near-full. This was obviously one of Bodega Bay’s popular tourist attractions.

Carrying on north, we weren’t sure what the day held for us, but we soon had our answer. Only a dozen miles north of Bodega Bay was Goat Rock. I’d never been but it was a name I remembered from my Bay Area Climbing Guide so we drove down to the beach where the obvious rock was. Once there, we discovered that while Goat Rock gave the climbing area its name, it didn’t have any routes on it. We back tracked and parked on the hill where we could access Sunset Boulders and made an easy trek down some single track to a smattering of boulders not far from the ocean cliffs.

Despite the fog, it was quite warm thanks to a lack of wind. Again, we’d over-dressed for the day. Standing at the base of the boulders, once again, we had the crag to ourselves. “Where is everyone?” I asked Dan. “Is it a Sunday? Have we got the day wrong?”

With our pick of the routes, I trad-led up a 5.8 to the top of the main boulder, then we set up ropes (thankfully with bolted anchors this time) for the rest of the routes, working our way from the middle to the left.

My questions were answered after an hour or so when a group of three showed up to venture on the rock. Obvious gym rats, we watched them to make sure they were safe. They did ok, until the girl dropped her friend off the top of the route, letting him fall a good few meters and lifting herself off the ground as his belayer. Thankfully no one was hurt.

The climbing was easy, but great fun and Cleo was having a ball playing lookout. When another group of four showed up, the crag and the remaining routes we wanted to try got a little crowded so we bailed for a late lunch. I still had more climbing in me so I was a little bummed, but hey, I’d asked and the crowds had come.

We ventured out to the ocean cliffs for a look and there were great looking beaches a long way below our feet. If only the sun would come out! But hey, at least it was t-shirt weather, such is the life on the coast of the Pacific. We enjoyed a fresh lunch at the van while Cleo monitored the bushes for moles then carried on to nowhere in particular.

Now, we had to commit to heading further north or cutting east and we chose the latter, not wanting to get too far from home with only a couple of days before we had to head home. The countryside driving through the Santa Rosa valley was pretty and before too long we were looking for a camp. It was a tedious process without many options and stopping at a trailhead in Santa Rosa that was unsuitable for a camp, I threw in the towel. While camp-finding was often my favorite part of the day, this county was serious in their dislike for overnight campers so it was becoming a chore. Less than an hour away from Mount St. Helena, we decided to just head there. It was one of our favorite climbing spots and had a sure-thing camp. Once we’d made that decision we were happy.

We made it there before dark and parked up in the familiar wide open carpark. Without service, it was a nice getaway and left us with nothing to do but some van-thinking, involving furiously writing down every idea we had for future reference.

Aspiring 5.10 Climbers

Another crag with the potential to be above the clouds, we had a late-ish start before we started our way up the hike to one of the many crags. It was Dan’s turn to be guide. Dan can always tell when I’ve had enough of being the planner and last night’s camp finding had put me there. He chose the crag for the day and knowing it was a weekday, we could have our pick. Despite having been here many times, there were still crags we hadn’t been to and Hailstone Rock was one of them.

We saw only two hikers on our way up the mountain and despite the fog of the last few days by the ocean, the view into the St. Helena valley was crisp and clear. Once again, we were overdressed, taking off our down jackets and hoodies barely a mile into the hike and wishing we’d brought shorts. We passed the Bubble crag, a regular stomping ground for us, and continued up the fire road until we saw a narrow trail leading into the alpine brush.

To get to Hailstone Rock, we first had to pass by the Bear Cliff which Dan had considered for today, but with a 5.10a being the easiest route on the wall, he figured we’d want something more moderate than that and he was right. We always sought out walls with a 5.8/5.9 or two so we could warm up to the 5.10 grades. He’d said in the van that the Bear Cliff is what we should aspire to, that one day, we’d be able to show up at a crag in the 5.10 range and not sweat it. Well, that day was today.

We were overheating from the hike and once we got to the Bear, figured we’d take our gear off our backs for a bit and take in the view. Then we were looking up at the routes and thinking the same thing: we’d rather climb hard stuff here than walk further to climb the easy stuff.

Mount St. Helena really has it all. This rock was vastly different from the crags just a half-mile down the road. With crystalline structures embedded into the pale-colored rock, it was the most interesting surface I’d ever climbed on. Some of the tiny crystals were so sharp you’d get multiple pin pricks on your fingers if you clung onto them for too long. It was fascinating climbing.

I took my first lead up Silverado Squatters and enjoyed it thoroughly. It was a a gentle but sustained 5.10a route with just enough bolting to be comfortable. We then top roped a selection of 5.10s and it was all simply lovely.

After lunch, we moved over to the right side of the wall where I lead a chimney that was a nice change from the very straight wall routes we’d been doing but wow did it have a run-out finish. I took my time after the final clip, maneuvering my body out of the chimney and onto the outer face, careful not to lose my footing and swing into the wall of the chimney.

I gave up on the idea of doing the second pitch called “Theodore Roosevelt” because I couldn’t see the obvious bolt line and we were having too much fun on the bottom half of the wall.

My last route of the day was “3-Star Arete” and I’d give it five stars. Starting just left of the chimney, it was a sustained 5.10c and it was beautiful. Every hold had just enough on it for a short stint before finding the next one and there weren’t many opportunities to rest.

I made sure to take in the late-day view before I came down and Dan lowered me slowly. Weekday treks are something else. This crag was surely teeming with people only a day earlier.

Our day of climbing done, we packed up and left satisfied with the climbing we’d done. As we made our way down to the Bubble, it was a handy spot to watch the sunset and while that was at least an hour away, it was worth stopping to sit and have a (warm) beer.

With a spot of cell service, I called my mate Kev and we gloriously killed the hour catching up about his kids, his life back home and our life at the crag. What a glorious way to spend the afternoon, I was in heaven.

Right when I hung up with Kev, the sun painted the sky orange and then my Mum called. We chatted as we started making our way down the hill until my phone died and the valley went silent, except for the sound of traffic far, far below us.

It was nowhere near as cold as it had been last night by the van so we took a hot bottle shower outside the van to rid us of the dreaded oils of poison oak that we’d surely touched that day. Cleo was in bed snoring before dinner had even begun.

Berta’s Falter

Tomorrow we had a flight to catch, but it was an evening flight, so we didn’t have to rush home! As we descended from Mount St. Helena I found a mountain biking spot in close proximity to a disc golfing spot. Dan and Cleo could throw discs while I rode some singletrack. We parked up at Annadel State Park and enjoyed the sun’s warmth as I made us a big hearty breakfast. Once into my gear and sorted the bike, it was warming up nicely. Dan bid me farewell as I rode off along the road into the depths of the park.

My ride at Annadel would be a lesson in following the maps. I’ve found in the last few years that the MTB trail apps are lacking, not showing every trail in a network. In most cases, they barely skim the surface. After enjoying some winding singletrack by the road, I was on a fireroad and when I saw a piece of single track winding through the trees, I hit the anchors and opted to venture into the unknown. I had a great time doing some windy technical climbing on some well-travelled trails. There was dirt branching off in every direction and after a few intersections, I gave up navigating and just followed my front wheel.

That was working out great until I came to the bottom of a huge jump, meant to be ridden in the opposite direction. I’d come too far in now, so walked up and around it and soon felt like I was walking backwards up Flow Trail. Feeling pretty stupid as I clambered up some beautifully steep berms, I stayed my course until I came to the crest. There were a couple of riders just above me and I was happy that they hadn’t been on trail while I was coming up it.

I took another branch and bush-bashed through a very narrow and overgrown offering. It was a fast descent and so again I was committed to this unknown path. When I finally reached a trail called the Magic Carpet, I was back on the MTB Project prescribed loop and decided I’d stick to it. The riding was pretty nice after that until I came to wide open meadow and took a wrong turn. The singletrack was nice but it was taking me in the wrong direction. Ever the improviser, I figured I’d just hike up the hill to my left a litte until I came upon my desired trail but after crossing over a rocky wall and not seeing anything resembling trail, I back-tracked. No more improvising!

The Lawndale trail on the far side of the park was brilliant, flowing fast through the forest on a partly-groomed trail with great side-to-sides and and switchbacks. It dumped me out on a road and I enjoyed the stroll through a newish neighbourhood that was obviously marketed to the retiree or Bay Area deportee who wanted a bit of land in a quiet setting. With plenty of lots still to be built on, I could imagine the place growing into its freshly built fences and infant landscaping to become a homey suburb. Back at another park entrance, I started up the Schulz Trail. Partway up this rocky climb, I decided that I’d be leaving Annadel with a QOM time. It had to give me something for all the hard work I’d put in!

I pushed up and up, sweat running into my eyes, and I stayed determined until I reached the peak and took a break. I was ready to be riding home now and stuck to the mapped route to finish out my ride. I never quite got the flow from the farside of the park, but the stuff near the trailhead was rocky, technical and therefore fun. The scenic highlight of the park was the lake I breezed by while crossing the dam. I’d passed by many lakes and creeks throughout the ride but this was the first one to hold water. It was unexpected in the dry landscape! While there, I messaged Dan to let him know my ETA and then settled in for my ride home to him, Cleo and Berta.

One final twist yes another wrong turn which resulted in a half-mile whizz downhill before I stopped and figured out I’d got it wrong. More climbing then, but thankfully the last trail was a pleasure.

There was a big blue van waiting for me in the carpark and my husband’s legs poked out the side of it. Nothing major, he was just killing time playing with the driveshaft some more. I stashed the bike and hydrated myself while Dan finished up, then we were on the road home with most of the afternoon ahead of us. Dan told me about his disc golfing and unfortunately it wasn’t great. The park was hot and Cleo was hunting for shade at every opportunity so they didn’t get through 9 holes. He did come away with a disc find though! It is a common occurrence for him whenever he is on the field.

Within twenty minutes we were on the 101 heading south, making home seem quite near. Just as I shouted in excitement at the QOM I’d nailed at Annadel, Dan made a shout of his own, announcing that the engine light was on. With no change in driveability or engine tone, we weren’t concerned. This had happened before and the codes cleared without issue, but we were cautious and pulled off the highway. Scared of a no-start condition, we left the engine running as we plugged in our computer to check the codes. There was something about the boost pressure regulator and fuel rail pressure, but they all cleared and our engine light turned off. Winning!

Dan drove us back onto the highway and our winning smiles soon faded. We had a serious lack of power. With his foot to the floor, Berta was barely getting out of second gear and the road was flat. The engine purred nicely so it wasn’t as if we’d lost a cylinder or two, she just had no guts. Dan started changing gears manually to keep her in a lower gear for a bit more umph, but the power was not returning. We soon theorised that we were operating without a turbo. She cruised along at 65 mph happily enough, but getting to that point was the struggle. It was nearing 4pm and we were still on the wrong side of the Golden Gate Bridge which made us very nervous. We knew there was a big hill to get over coming out os Sausalito so we braced ourselves for the worst. Dan drove deftly and smashed the hazards button as he got himself into the slow lane and our speed dropped from 65 mph to near 30 mph as Berta struggled to lift her weight up the hill. We breathed a small sigh of relief as we crossed the bridge and I got creative with navigating our path home to avoid San Francisco’s steepest hills. In doing so, we discovered a much better way to come home via the coast, enjoying some nice views of sand and ocean.

When we pulled into our driveway, I felt utter relief. What was barely more than a two hour drive felt like double that. We stopped the engine and started it again, just to see if it would and she purred just fine. That would do for now, we’d look into it when we’re back from our next adventure.

10/11-10/18/2022, 326 miles