The odds of riding all 4,000 miles across America completely in my own company were always going to be small. With so many people out there touring around it was highly likely that I would bump into someone going the same way as me for at least a day or two. The odds of finding two people to spend three weeks with, though, are negligible, but not zero.

For the most part of my time on the road, since China back in September, I’ve been happy to distance myself from Chelsea’s nightmarish season. When The Blues were struggling for confidence under AVB’s ‘project’ I thought I’d picked a great year to travel the world and not have to witness the chaos first hand. I’d just catch up as and when I can.

As soon as I got on the bike I felt different. Granted, it was probably nerves, or the weight of 4,000 miles, or maybe even the pressure of completing this charity challenge. New York seemed a long way away, it still is a long way away even now, and I am to spend many hours alone in the saddle with just the tarmac (if I’m lucky – gravel if I’m not) for company.

My 1000th mile was somewhere around Independence, California, heading South on the 395 towards Death Valley. I celebrated with half a dozen peanut butter cookies from Subway. Whilst there, sheltering in the shade from the sweltering heat, I looked back on the last 500 miles since I left San Francisco.

The 500th mile of my trip led me neatly to a photogenic overlook of the Golden Gate Bridge. I was jubilant as I descended the hill, slaloming the camera-wielding tourists – whose one-dimensional view of their surroundings I pitied – before coming to a halt on the wood chip pull out, just another guy taking a photo of the bridge. Except I wasn’t.