I rolled into Hood River two days later feeling slightly more human, but still out of sorts. I think my body is confused about what it is we’re doing together, and my anxiety-ridden brain is not helping.

I stayed in a hostel, a surprise find in such a small city. My host, Tim, was friendly, though I could have done without the stories of all the people who’ve died biking on I-84 (which I’d just done, and would be doing more of).

Best of all, it was quiet. All the other guests were out, and I had the place to myself for a few precious hours. It’s funny; though I’d been spending my days alone, I was still craving some calm time to myself. It’s hard work interacting with strangers when you feel so out of place in your own skin.

Later that evening, I had a nice chat with an electrician from San Antonio who was staying at the hostel while working on a job in The Dalles. He showed me pictures of the Captain America shield he’d made for his son, and we talked about the uptick in solar and wind power in the Columbia Valley. He reminded me of my brother-in-law, which was comforting.