On a Donkey's Hurricane Deck: A Tempestous Voyage of Four Thousand and Ninety-Six Miles Across the American Continent on a Burro, in 340 Days and 2 Hours, Starting Without a Dollar and Earning My Way

In 1909, R. Pitcher Woodward made a wager as American as hot dogs and hubris: cross the United States on a donkey named Macaroni, from New York to San Francisco, all 4,096 miles of it, starting with zero dollars in his pocket and exactly 340 days and 2 hours to complete the job. He did it. This is his story. On a Donkey's Hurricane Deck is a wonderfully eccentric travelogue that captures a vanished America - the small towns, the dust-choked roads, the bemused strangers who watched a man on a burro clop through their streets. Woodward earns his way as he goes, trading his humor and hustle for meals and lodging, somehow coaxing Macaroni across mountain passes and through city traffic. The writing is genuinely funny, deadpan in its absurdity: he recommends riding one mile astride, then sideways when your legs ache, then "Turkish fashion" when your back begins to fail, and finally walking alongside while carrying the donkey when all else fails. It's a peculiar kind of heroism - stubborn, impractical, and utterly delightful. The book endures not as great literature but as something better: a time capsule of pure, irrational American ambition.