In the morning I organise stays for the next week. It’s high time I set off early on Thursday. After two hours and 40 emails, I set off into the city. I’m still missing Haight Ashbury. By bus via Golden Gate Park to the west. If you pay attention, you can see exactly where San Francisco burnt down after the big earthquake. The most colourful Victorian houses start right behind it.

First I wander through the park, go to the De Young Museum and the Flower Conservatory. Then across Haight Street to Buena Vista Park. The bum rate in SF is generally high. In Haight Ashbury, normal people are almost outnumbered. No idea who lives in the expensive houses. It smells of weed everywhere. (more…)

Bree, the last flatmate I didn’t know, arrived the evening before. The fog in San Francisco was so thick that her plane didn’t land until two hours later. I somehow don’t get the whole living and working in America thing. She’s just come back from a week of hiking in the Grand Canyon. Quickly chats to me for a few minutes. Goes to bed. After eight hours of sleep, she heads back to work the next morning. When does all this free time end? And how can you take anything with such a transition? And: yes, I know I need to talk to my travelling speed right now. There is one difference: I travel so fast because free travel is so expensive. Americans live so fast because free time is so expensive. I’m glad I only have to travel like this for a while. Wouldn’t want to live like that. (more…)

Yes, my city. Lots of weird and crazy people. Everyone is different, some even totally different. I spent a day relaxing yesterday. After a total of 9700 miles on the bus and in the car, a day at work was real relaxation. And also an urgent top-up for the travel fund. As I said before, the boys here have pretty much the coolest flat you can imagine. And they have to work 10 hours a day for it. I’m alone in this castle all day.

The location is perfect. See the map on the left, blue dot in San Francisco. Right in the centre of everything, but nice and quiet on the 7th floor. Highway 101 runs one block through the city. This is also where the Academy of Art is located, surrounded by Asia-Aldis and bum supplies. (more…)

We set off for Yosemite National Park at around eight o’clock. I’m still dead tired. There’s a traffic jam at the entrance. And the roads in the park are also pretty full. To say it up front: quite disappointing overall. The Americans are a bit like the Catholics in medieval Germany. They have to build something in every beautiful place. Catholics built churches and Americans build golf courses. This is also the case in Yosemite National Park.

I drive up to Glacier Point, 3000 metres above sea level. The view is stunning: gleaming white mountains. During the ice age, the ice rubbed against them until the mountains were really cold, hence the colour. (more…)

Unfortunately, rideshare was not an option. The youth hostel is fully booked with 150 people, but unfortunately only children. No potential passengers. I leave most of my things at the hostel and head south. First destination: Kings Canyon and Sequoia National Park. These are not the tallest trees in the world, but they are the biggest. After 200 miles, the road slowly climbs through citrus groves into the Sierra Nevada. It gets hotter and drier, despite the altitude.

Even the first trees knock me off my feet – leaning my head back too far at over 2000 metres makes me dizzy. (more…)

After a few days of trembling, Scott from San Francisco replied after all and confirmed the stay. That makes me happy, now the next few days are safe. I set off very early and head south on Highway 101 from Arcata. The redwoods continue to accompany me. Especially in the “Avenue of Giants”, the really big ones stand close together right next to the road. You can even drive through one tree by car. Finally a benchmark…

After about 80 miles, I leave Highway 101, which drifts inland here, and change over to Highway 1. A really fun route. After too many straights in the Great Plains, every bend is a reason to cheer. I cheer for the entire rest of the day, without a break, for 350 miles. (more…)

The hangover the next morning is massive. I haven’t had much to drink, but it seems to have a triple effect on my travelling speed. I wind my way over mountains and through valleys and from coffee to coffee until I reach Crater Lake National Park, about 150 miles away.

Within a radius of 30 miles around Crater Lake there are only pine trees, with the occasional spruce in between. Everything is dust-dry, red lava sand, highest fire warning level in the desert. Even the drive up to Crater Lake is breathtaking. After a quarter of an hour, I look into the crater for the first time and see the bluest blue of my life. (more…)

The wind picks up again early in the morning. Time to drive on. Up into the Hood River Valley, past orchards and up Hood Mountain to a summer ski resort. Not much going on, of course, snow is total slush at this time of year. I can see where the sandbank that is not visible on the satellite images in Google Maps comes from. Huge debris avalanches have washed tonnes of sand and small stones into the Columbia River.

I continue south through the Hot Springs Indian Reservation and the Cascade Mountains to Eugene, my next stay. The landscape changes rapidly from desert to green hell. Waterfalls roar over 3000-year-old lava flows. (more…)

Rideshare via craigslist.org worked for the first time yesterday. It’s like mifahrzentrale.de, only smaller and worse. Petrol is still too cheap here. I get a lift to Portland for $10, funny people. My bus to the coast doesn’t leave until the evening, so it’s a 6-hour journey. I visit the supposedly biggest and best bookstore in America, www.powell.com. Hugendubel Munich is at least as big, but nicer.

I do some surfing and Skype in a café and then take the bus on to Seaside in the evening through steamy forests and rain. The last place before Seaside is called Cannon Beach. That’s what it looks like: Storm 70km/h. Surf shop after surf shop. High waves, torn-off tarpaulins, swept-away chairs, trees at their maximum load. Yes! Wind at last! (more…)

Megan unfortunately had to go to a birthday party, so I’m changing my address in Seattle again. I already have a new offer, the key is next to the door. She just forgot to mention where. Only after an hour of war-walking in the city do I receive the new address by email. I make my way downhill to the bus, in constant fear of being run over by my trolley.

Unfortunately, there’s no-one in West Seattle at the moment. I hide my stuff in the garden and head for the next park by the sea. Over the mountains outside Seattle, impressive clouds move inland again. A dead jellyfish almost half a metre in diameter lies on the beach. (more…)

I knew that Seattle was by the sea, with many lakes around it and an endless stretch of rugged coastline. I knew about the Space Needle, the cool weather, the mixed population, grunge and much more. But what I didn’t know is what deeply impressed me.

Yes, I’m still going to San Francisco. But the topography there will have a hard time impressing me. Megan lives pretty much on a level with the top of the Space Needle, on the highest mountain, just 2 km from the city centre. The roads are tiny, often single-lane. There is a tree in the centre of every junction. The gradients are worrying. I needed two pressure equalisations on the way into town. (more…)

Today is the last day of my private Cannonball Race across America. The morning sun reflected in the lake tickles me awake along with a coffee. I set off quickly, because the final stretch is over 500 miles long – at least on the Interstate. Do I really want to take it? No! It’s really dirty again today. Just small country roads, passes, gorges. Everything much further. But at the end of the day I know: it’s also much nicer.

I drive through Montana first and then come to Idaho. I smell fire again, and this time I see it right next to the road. Idaho is on fire. And not only that. Washington too. Two hours later, I pass some really big fires. The sun is dimmed and aeroplanes are circling. (more…)

I always wanted to find the place where “A River Rises in the Middle” was filmed. I knew: Montana. Asked everyone: where? Including David this morning. Well, he didn’t know the river. But the post office is only a few hundred metres away. We drive there and I’m happy. I set off. My next destination is Glacier National Park.

I actually wanted to leave the boring Interstate 90 shortly after Butte. But I unfortunately miss the exit. The next one seems to be fine. Look at the map…what does it say? Ghost Town? But hello, that’s where I have to go! I look for the way. (more…)

I get a great night’s sleep in the car. In the morning I meet David and Albert, another guest from Germany. Well, we meet… well… after an hour, a shower and two excellent coffees, I set off again with Albert, a theology student from near Berlin. We get some provisions and drive the same route back to Yellowstone. Aha, so that’s what it would have looked like…

Albert wants to stay longer in the park and organises a campsite. Around 10 we head into the heart of the park. First the Mammoth Sulphur Spring in the far north. White rocks like in Turkey… bubbling everywhere, and the water bubbles over orange and green algae. (more…)

So far, there have been some wonderful signs. Time and again, the music on the radio told me that I was in the right place at the right time. The latest example of this was yesterday: I’m driving with Jeff along the highest precipices of the badlands. Music on the radio: Aerosmith, Living on the Edge. Today, for the first time, the right music didn’t come on.

I set off after a brief farewell to Renee and Jeff. 50 miles past Rapid City I think to myself: Hm, the road is pretty bumpy. But at the same time it looks very flat. I stop after a mile: The right rear tyre is flat. The radio wasn’t playing Jackson Brown, Running on empty. Otherwise I would have realised it sooner. I switch to the spare tyre. (more…)

Jeff is taking the whole day off. He wants to tour the Badlands and Black Hills with me. I feel very honoured. After a real American breakfast with about 1.5 tonnes of omelette, we set off towards the Badlands at around eight o’clock. Jeff insists on being my chauffeur. I gratefully accept. The landscape quickly becomes more and more surreal.

After an hour, we arrive in the Badlands and turn off onto a gravel track. Buffalo graze right at the side of the road and make sounds like rutting Harleys. Thousands of small hills are each crowned by a vertical meerkat. (more…)

Nobody wakes me up this night. It was necessary, urgent. In the morning I go shopping, pack my things. Cook Jordan something as a thank you. Also urgently needed. Students know what’s good, but can’t cook. He’s delighted and eats loads of stuffed courgettes. I leave late at half past one.

I drive north along the eastern flank of the Rockies. On the right are the last foothills of the Great Plains with their sand hills. From Wyoming onwards, I see pure prairie with golden grasses and rolling hills for the first time. The sun repeatedly illuminates only individual patches and intensifies the glow. (more…)