Being short of cash ever since comet hunting has been monopolised by those damn satellites, he had to work his passage to San Diego by cargo ship with his turbo-charged ride-on lawn mower as deck cargo.
Once ashore, and (for him) modestly flushed with a month's seaman's wages, he headed off by lawn mower to Fort Davis by the scenic route - Route 66, with some minor deviations.
This kept him away from the hustle of the interstates, while the few highway patrol guys who lurk along Route 66 are mostly looking for geriatric motorbike gangs trying hard to remember the way - Hell's Ancients and the like.
In any event, he kept a low profile and whenever he saw a squad car or got even a whiff of pork, he moved over to the verge of the road and was busily engaged in trimming the grass and looking very civic minded indeed.
He did not bother with the Grand Canyon, having seen plenty of soil erosion and wombat burrows around Dunedoo, but did see the Drugstore on the corner in Winslow Arizona, took a passing look at Meteor Crater but got put off by all the UFO Kisch, so much so that he bypassed Roswell altogether and headed past the Petrified Forest, the Painted Desert and the Very Large Array (VLA) down to El Paso.
There his problems started as though the highway patrol had been pussycats, those damn border patrols kept pulling him over and lifting the bonnet on his ride-on mower looking for (very small) illegal Mexicans.
Then after the uphill slog to the McDonald Observatory it was all downhill to Fort Davis where SLOB (Snake Lovers Overseas Brotherhood) had arranged accommodation on a mattress on the floor of the Rattlesnake Museum.
As Emmanuel had the best private collection of Tiger Snakes, Death Adders and Copperheads in Dunedoo, sacking out amongst a bunch of woosy Rattlesnakes by comparison held no terrors for him.
There was the minor problem that he had not actually got around to registering for the TSP, but the recent rains had greened up Fort Davis a little so he was able to find a few blades of grass and mow himself past Checkpoint Charlie into the Prude Ranch each day, mightily impressing Wyatt Earp with his diligence.
But then he WAS noticed. In the vendor's hall, Crazy Bob lusted mightily after his Dunedoo cornsack T-Shirt, while in the Valley of the Dobs his binocular Telrads with triple stacked Barlows mounted on the retractable observing chair at the back of his mower stood out even amongst the 25" and 36" Dobs.
Barbara Wilson was a little sceptical when she was told that he was going to try to observe all the objects on Larry Mitchell's advanced observing list with such a modest instrument, but Emmanuel had been munching raw carrots all the way from LA to improve his night vision and had cleverly mounted a UHC filter on one Telrad and an OIII on the other.
Warming up with a Messier Marathon, glimpses of Charon and a couple of Palomar Globulars, he was soon in top form.
Mitchell's list was a breeze to such an experienced and imaginative observer, so much so that after a few slugs of Tequila he actually tried for the Hubble Deep Field, a big ask even for Emmanuel.
He was surprised that with all the interest being currently shown in binoviewers, his was the only binocular Telrad at the TSP but he figured that Crazy Bob was certain to quickly pick up on that marketing opportunity and that the 2005 TSP would be swarming with them.
Emmanuel had to leave half way through the week and well before the prize giving, which was no problem really, as he had not actually registered for the TSP.
It seems that with there being few lawn mowers around Fort Davis, the Director of Homeland Security had got a garbled report about a weapon of grass destruction in town and a platoon of Marines had plucked him out from amongst the rattlesnakes and spirited him off to a free holiday in that military Club Med in Cuba.
Emmanuel is excited and hopes to meet one of those cute army girls there who is into B&D.