The truck lost speed over the latest hill in the Nevada desert though I pushed the pedal to the floor. I eased off, hoping if I took it slow the truck would recover.
Just as it had the first day of the trip before it turned off the next morning, the "Service Engine Soon" light came on. The truck jerked and slowed to 35 miles per hour. A sign showing a speed limit of 80 taunted me.
In the seat next to me the dog continued to sleep, or at least acted like he was.
The truck labored for a few miles before I spotted an oasis: a rest stop. I pulled off, parked in the middle of the almost empty sun-parched lot and grabbed the leash.
Interested again in life, the dog stood up, shook off the torpor and panted.
We had entered the Battle Born State earlier that day on the penultimate leg of a journey that had taken us more than 2,000 miles through six states from the San Francisco Bay Area to just beyond the entrance of Glacier National Park in Montana. Why we didn't make it deeper into the park is another story for another time.
While I have a soft spot for parts of Nevada – including scruffy Reno – for this trip it was a thoroughfare to and from far-flung destinations, as it has been for many past travelers.
Less famous these days than the Oregon Trail, which is well-known in large part due to a computer game from the 1970s and 80s, the California Trail was for part of the 19th century a similarly well-traversed path to the promised land of the West.
The trails followed the same corridor of routes from Missouri river towns until they split off in what are now the states of Wyoming, Idaho and Utah. The Oregon Trail headed in a general northwesterly pattern through the breadth of Idaho into what is now the Beaver State, while the California Trail veered south and west before entering the Great Basin Desert.
Though the railroad came later, and the highways after that, and towns sprung up and some ranches and farms dot the landscape, many parts of the desert remain as they were for the early travelers. Sagebrush and other shrubs stretch far as the eye can see, interrupted here and there by daunting brown mountains.
The dog and I ambled about the rest area, stopping here and there so my little hero could claim ownership of a rock.
We happened upon an illustrated sign that invited the reader to look east and west. While a modern car could travel the expanse in approximately 15 minutes, travelers on the California Trail would only make it that far in a day.
A weary pilgrim wondered what his friends back east would think of his group now, covered with dust and grime. He spoke of too little water, game and vegetation.
I looked down at the dog, now panting heavily. I too was getting a bit warm under the desert sun. Hoping my noble steed had rested enough we walked back, drank a bit of water and hopped into the truck.
