On the road again (heading east) #13

I was not even sure how to get out of Wawa. I had been there before but I had no conscious recollection of how I had left. It had been dark the night before when we had driven in and I had not been paying attention to such details. Why would I? I knew I had drive to Sudbury. That morning as I stomped with anger and frustration up the road towards the highway, it was dark and cloudy and windy. It was one of those morning that reminds one that fall is going to come sooner than one would like. I was pretty sure that I was going to get wet at some point that day.

Lots of vehicles drove by. Most of them were pick-up trucks and none of them gave me a second look. After standing at a rather poor spot just outside of town for quite a while, I decided to walk a bit further down the road. It looked as if there might be some sort of gas station/restaurant where a some of the trucks that had passed me by were turning off to. It wasn't much of restaurant but there were a lot of vehicles including some big trucks stopping. More importantly there were some reasonably wide shoulders and good sight lines. It did not look as if there was anything better further down the road, so I decided this was where I would make my stand. Visions of spending a couple of days on the outskirts of Wawa kept flashing through my mind. It was good that I had things to think about as I was there for a few hours, but finally a car did stop and I got in gratefully.

He was an retired engineer - at least I think he was, he said so - but I don't think he spent a lot of time in that field. I think he said that that he had never really liked the field. As a matter of fact, in spite of the fact that drove from the outskirts of Wawa to Sudbury - I got to know, at least in some aspects, very little about him at all. In other ways I got to know him quite well. But part of problem was me.

When I got into the car I was still pretty upset at being abandoned by my previous driver and rather than me appearing reasonably normal - polite and interested in my driver, I went into a rant about what had happened to me. I must have sounded like a flaming lunatic. My driver later said as much. In fact he was so concerned that when I asked him how far he was going he just pointed down the road and indicated that he wasn't going too far. I must have freaked him out. However I did calm down and by the time we got to Sault Saint Marie we were getting along fine and he did tell me that he was going to Toronto.

In keeping with the strangeness of the past few days, this ride had its own peculiarities. My driver was going back to Toronto to deal with some real estate issues. he and his wife own some rental properties and their commercial tenants were about to go bankrupt. He needed to sort out some of the mess in terms of rent etc. There was also a case of them being sued because someone had fallen outside of their building the previous winter. In all honesty I am not sure where he actually lived. I think he lived someone within the general Toronto area, but if that is the case he never said why he was in Northern Ontario - they may have had a cottage up there, but that seems to be a long way to drive just to be on a lake. I will never know if his reluctance to talk about the physical details of his life was because of my rant upon entering his car, or if because he was generally careful about what he disclosed. He did mention that he had picked up other hitchhikers who had had significant emotional problems so perhaps he was just being cautious.

I say he didn't talk about about the physical details of his life, that does not mean that we did not talk about other stuff. He said that he had anger issues - he knew that because his wife had told so. They were involved in some sort of rather strange therapeutic conselling process that sounded like a money grab. It was something to do with the suggestion that our eternal anger evolves from how our parents treat it and we need to deal with that issue before anything else can be deal with. Sounded rather Freudian and at the same time rather cultish. We had a long and interesting chat about this kind of stuff. I suppose what was so remarkable about my driver was that in spite of the fact that he was very much into this "treatment process", to the point that he was thinking about pay what seemed like a huge amount of money to be trained as a"therapist", he was very prepared to hear other suggestions as how to cope with stuff.

I talked to him about my practice of every night before I go to sleep to think about the day and then giving thanks. Something that I have done for much of my adult life - even on those days when life has been horrible. It makes it so much easier to forgive people, and the world in general for the "slings of arrows of outrageous fortune" that occasionally rain upon our heads. He liked it and I think he will do.

He got me to the turn off near Sudbury, let me out, and I thanked him not just for the ride but for the help in calming down.  As he was my last ride - my thanks to him was in fact a thank you to every one who had given me a ride. Twice on the way back I had met drivers who had given me a fresh perspective, a reminder of why I do what I do.

I am a hitchhiker. Oh I do many other things - I am a dad and a grand dad, I teach, and I spin and weave. I an adequate carpenter, plumber and electrician - but hitchhiking defines so much of what I am. For a few weeks every year, I shed my possessins, or at least most of them, and go out on the road to meet people, to trust people, to gamble that my view of the world is the correct one. So far I have been right - the world is a good place with people who will trust and help out a stranger on the road. Can anything be finer than being reminded of that?

Root Canels and Christmas Cards

One might think that root canals and Christmas cards would have relatively little to do with each other - and normally one would be right. The formed is seldom indicates a good time, while the latter indicates at least the possibility of good wishes.

I got a Christmas card from my endodontist. Which  was a bit bit of a surprise as I certainly have done everything possible to try to forget them. I suspect if they have any memory of me at all it would be of a guy with a graying beard, with a moustache that got in the way and who made it quite clear that none of them would ever be his favourite person. I certainly gave them no indication that that I would ever put them on my Christmas card list.

But they did send me a card with a gift certificate to get some free Crest toothpaste. The card also says that they have made a donation in my name to the Youth Emergency Shelter. Now I feel bad that I didn't send them a card.

Do you think it is too late?

Apologies to Johnathon Swift

 For the last year I have been reading the magazine - Scientific American. I have not renewed it for next year because, quite frankly, 90% of the time it is far above my scientific knowledge. I am sure stories about quantum physics, black holes and the inner working of DNA are all quite fascinating - but the information does me no good if I can't get past the first paragraph.

Today I am glad that I am not renewing it for another reason - it says me the hassle of cancelling my subscription.

There is an article in the December issue talking about raising flying beetles so that scientist can figure out how to attach cameras to their backs and by wiring electrodes into their nervous system, control where the beetles fly. The reason? So the army can sneak into caves and houses and see who is in there.

At first I thought it was a satire similar to Swift's "A Modest Proposal". I, in my ignorance and naivety was anxiously awaiting for the show to drop - perhaps the author would start to talk about attaching cameras to kittens, and by control their nervous systems, control where they walked - I wondered to myself if they would take the story to the point of using children - before they started to talk about the ethics of taking animals (beetles, kittens, children- it is all a slippery path) and programming them to assist the army.

But alas - they were serious and somewhat inclined to brag about their success. Apparently it is not enough to trick dolphins and dogs into doing a human's bidding  we now don't need to even pretend that the animals are on our side. There was no mention in the article of kittens or children - but you have to wonder what is next?

On the Road Again (heading east) #12

The hotel was too expensive. But if I wanted to make an early start in the morning,there was no where else to stay near the highway. I had stayed there last year and knew that the breakfast was not worth the rather exorbitant cost - so I skipped that meal and headed out, once again walking along the shoulder of the Trans-Canada. While I am not sure if the spot I choose to stand was actually outside of the town limits, I am fairly sure that no pedestrians were allowed to be there. However there was lots of room to stand and for cars to stop so I didn't see a problem. The police that passed by me didn't see a problem either.

It was a nice day - which was good, because it was going to be a long day - and perhaps the strangest 24 hours of the trip. Around 10:20 I got a short ride from Tom who was a builder/designer who was just heading a few miles down the road to see a house he was working on. He let me out a a gas station/corner grocery store which again had lots of room to stand and watch the traffic. If I have a choice I prefer to be let out at such places. One because it means that I can get more water if I need it and secondly it gives me something to look at when the traffic is slow. And it was slow. As is always the case, once one is well outside the city limits, the traffic which may have been almost non-stop dries up to a small trickle of vehicles. I had lots of time to kick stones and sing to myself.  It wasn't until 11:45 that I got my next drive.

This may have been my favourite short drive of the trip. He was an Hungarian who was well into his 70s. He had been a mine engineer (I think) and had chosen to retire in the north country. He spent his winters in Toronto but all summer he was quite content to be north of Superior. He was clearly a well educated, well read man. He was delighted to hear that I studied sociology and for the next 45 minutes we talked about philosophy and politics and society. He was delightful. We laughed and teased each other, talked about women, argued about everything and in general had a great time. He said that if could have afforded it, it would have driven me all the way to Sudbury. He was a bit of a rascal - he said that he wished he could have a young girl to live with him who could talk about philosophy.

It is not often that I get to talk about Rousseau and Pascal to my drivers, but I relish the opportunities when they come.

The drive end all too soon. He was going a bit further but he said that the spot where he was turning off was in the middle of nowhere and he thought I would be better off where there was the possibility of a car slowing down to get gas.

He let me out across from one of the strangest building I have ever seen. I had stopped here before on one of my trips, but I never got a really good look at it. The building which functions as a gas station and mineral store (amongst other things I suspect) has these rather incredible mural painted on the three sides that I could see. Even more unusually - there is a park beside the building with some strange obelisk type structures such as the one shown in the picture to the right. I have not a clue what it was or why someone but it there. I suppose i could have asked, but other than to buy some water, I didn't leave my post - just in case the one car that would stop for me, came by at the exact moment that I was across the road chatting to the owners. It felt like cruel and unusual punishment that there was also a chip truck across the highway as well. I had not had a decent french fry since leaving Ontario 2 months ago - and I was sorely tempted.

I was there for quite awhile - there was not a lot of traffic and none of the cars that stopped to get gas, or fries or shop in the store looked at me. Still watching the folks come and go entertained me for a while. Finally a car did stop. It had Oregon plates, the back seat and trunk were full of camping gear and there was a kayak roped to the roof. The driver who looked to be about my age got out, made some room in the back for my pack and I was ready for my next adventurer. If I had known how this ride turned, I would still have taken the ride, I just would not have been so excited.

My driver was off to Toronto. He had been touring though part of Canada and the US, looking at kayak routes. We knew some common areas including the west coast of BC and it was pleasant talking about various water routes. There was one small glitch in his plans. He wanted to stop at a specific spot and put his kayak into Lake Superior for a few hours paddle. He had no problems me waiting for him, and I was glad to spend time by the lake at Rossport knowing that I would have a ride to Sudbury. Finally, the one long ride I needed to get home! We stopped at this rather charming little village with some small bed and breakfast places and a few restaurants. He decided that he was hungry so we went in to one place and had a ok

After about an hour or so, he did come back - we loaded up the kayak and put everything back in the car and were off. By this time it was getting late. I think it was probably close to 4:00.  While perhaps if I had stayed on the highway I could have got another ride - I was at this point content with my decision.

He had spent much of his adult life working as a technical writer but that market had dried up and so he had gone back to school to learn how to be a para-legal. He fact he was waiting to hear about an interview that he had for internship. He had had an interesting life and was a good conversationalist. he had been married, but  had been divorced for a number of years. he had lots of friends many of whom sounded quite interesting. We had lots to talk about and the miles went along quite smoothly.

As the sun started to set he asked about finding a place to stay for the night. He said he wasn't tired yet but would be in a few hours. I suggested that Sault St. Marie was too far away but that we could easily make Wawa. He very quickly became concerned saying that he didn't have to go through the Sault and suggested that I was leading him astray. I told him that there was no other way to get from where we were to Toronto except to go through the Sault. He didn't believe me - he was positive that he had seen another way to do it. As we left the shore of Lake Superior and headed inland, he naturally assumed that we were finished with the lake. he was again somewhat disbelieving when I said that he was only 1/2 way down the east side of the lake.

As we went through White River - I got to tell my Winnie the Pooh story - I love telling that story. I am not too sure if he believed me about that either. While it wasn't exactly tense in the car, things were definitely less friendly than they had been. We finally got to Wawa, found a motel that had 2 rooms open, moved our stuff in and then went out to find somewhere to eat. All that we could find was a Mr. Sub - which was just fine for me. I brought my map into the restaurant and as we ate I showed him our route. He kept on insisting that there was another way. As we said good night - he told me that he had some emails to do the next morning but hoped we would be ready to go by 7:30 or so.

I had a quick shower and quickly fell asleep.

The next morning I got up - stuck my head into his room where he was working on his laptop - said hi and went back to my room - with the door open. I read some magazines and every 10 or 15 minutes I stuck my head out the door to make sure that he was not waiting for me. Finally by around 8:30 I went down the hall - his door was closed so I went downstairs only to find his car was gone and my hat, map, and water bottle on the steps. He had left without me!!!!

I will never know why he did that. It seemed like an incredibly cruel thing - especially as I had told of the tales of people being stuck in Wawa for days as they waited for a ride.I can't remember ever being as angry as I was that morning. As I threw on my pack and started to tromp down the road - I coursed and swore and planned all kinds of mean minded underhanded things to do him if I ever saw him again.

But of course I never did.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   

North to Sudbury

This past weekend I went to Sudbury. While teaching until noon on Friday and then leaving from the school just after 12:30 was a bit of a rush- it was well worth it. For the most part the roads were great and the traffic was pretty light. The only bad time was when a long line of us got behind a snow plow and we all ended up going slower than normal. From what I could see 20 cars back, the plow was not doing much. Up near Huntsville, they clearly had got a lot of heavy snow and for a few miles the landscape was rather magical.


The above shot was taken while I was driving. I wasn't using a cell phone camera so I guess it was legal.  As you can see the road is quite bare.

Had a great time with the grand kids. On Friday night I went book shopping with my 5 year old grandson. He asked for some books for his birthday - so we went to Chapters and he picked his two books and then "paid" for them with his gift card. It was fun and it was a pleasure to see him take it so seriously.

Of course I would have preferred not to use Chapters - but I am not too sure if there is another book store in Sudbury, and the selection at Chapters was great. He spent at least 30 minutes choosing.

   On Saturday at lunch time he had his birthday party where they made crowns, and then decorated gingerbread men or trees and then made their pizzas and then they decorated their cup cakes. A good time was had by all!!!

Later that afternoon I got to watch my 9 year old granddaughter play indoor soccer which was an interesting experience. I left early Sunday morning. It was a busy 36 hours - but I am glad I went.

Oh yes I had a shower in a most glorious shower - in the basement bathroom that my daughter designed and built. She had a bit of help, but most of it she did herself - the tiling especially was amazing. I don't think I have seen a finer bathroom that one she built.

I am a lucky guy.

Weaving sales

For the last month or so I have been somewhat consumed in the production of stuff to sell. I have spent much of my spare time washing, carding, spinning and dying wool so that I could make some small items that folks would want to buy. I love playing with wool. It is satisfying and productive. When I have got a fleece washed or spun - I know that I have accomplished someting that is measurable. When I play with colour and I like the colour that I produce - it is exciting. I never quite know what the final colour will look like when it is woven and when it works - I feel good. That is why I spin and weave - it makes me feel good.

baby blankets

But I also need to sell stuff - if for no other reason than I need to pay for my supplies. Of course there is also the problem of what to do with the stuff I produce if I don't sell it. My walls are full of wall hangings and racks of throw rugs. I don't have any room left for new projects. So a show is a good thing.

large (44X60) rug

This weekend a couple of us on the same street had a bit of a show. Attendance was very poor - perhaps there should have been more advertisment - perhaps we needed a few more homes to be opened up, perhaps the economy is not doing as well as people think or perhaps no one felt like shopping. Its hard to know what goes on in the minds of people. Regardless of the reasons I did not sell as much as I would have liked to. I did however make enough to pay for the 6 fleeces that I have bought in the past 8 months, for the dye and perhaps even for the all of the hot water I used in washing the wool. I met some nice people and some of them said some rather nice things about my rugs or blankets. So it was satisfying from that point of view.

some  purses/bags

Actually - all in all it wasn't a bad weekend - talked to some people, made some money and got some valadation on my craft skills. I started think that it had almost been a waste of time - but now I think it was just fine - i am a lucky guy.

On the Road Again (heading east) #11

I had a great night's sleep and the next morning I was up early and read to walk down the road. Just a few hundred yards east of my hotel there was a gas station/restaurant. I stopped in and had a quick breakfast amongst the tourists and the fisherman.  Across from the the restaurant was an abandoned motel with a large parking lot. This meant that there was lots of room for me to stand and watch the cars zip past me. It was a grand day. Sunny but it didn't feel like it was going to get too hot. I was sure that by the end of the day I would be in Thunder Bay. It was a long ride but I knew that I could do it. The drudgery and boredom of yesterday was gone. My optimism had returned. The sand from the construction was washed out my hair and brushed from my teeth. I was fairly sure that most of the cars that were going to past me - would be going some distance. I knew it might be awhile, but it would be a good ride when it came.

I was wrong- not that it was a bad ride - there are no bad rides if they get me a bit closer to my destination but it was not nearly as long as I would have liked. My driver was just going to Dryden which was no more than an hour and half away.He was off to see his mother and then take her to church. As we talked I learned the he had been in the army as a MP but had been out for some time. He had a son of whom he was very proud of. We spent much of our time talking about raising kids in the 21st century and what values are important. I am always surprised that in spite of all of the talk about Dads still not being as involved as they should be in their children's lives, how many of my conversations are about their children and what they do with them. It is quite extraordinary and very enjoyable. If he had not had plans with his mother, I think he would have driven me further just for the pleasure of having a conversation.

He drove me to the southern end of Dryden. I then had to walk for 10 or 15 minutes to get to a decent spot. I was there for quite awhile. Long enough at least to start looking at the motel just down the road, wondering if I was going to get a ride, or if I was going to be stuck in this town until Monday morning. But a ride eventually did come and this time it was to Thunder Bay.

My driver was in the army. His base was in New Brunswick but his wife and children lived in Manitoba ( I think - I seemed to have taken rather poor notes in this last section of travel). He had been home for a visit and now was going bac to work. He was stopping in Thunder Bay to spend a the night with a friend's mother and then they were going to continue on to New Brunswick the nest morning. This struck me as very generous to offer to drive someone he didn't know all the way to New Brunswick. The was room in the car for me but he said he wanted to ask his new travel partner how she felft with a stranger in the back seat. That made sense to me.

As he let me off on the highway, he said that he hopefully would see me the next morning. If I had been smart I would have asked for his phone number, it would have made it so much easier. Because it was not yet dark, I walked to the edge of town and tried to get a ride. That was dumb. It was dumb in part because I  had to walk 2 kilometers along a road that  I was not suppose to be on and then after standing on the side of the road for just over an hour, I had to walk back in the dark to the nearest hotel. By the time I got there and checked in, it was after 9:00 and all of the restaurants were closed.

On the Road Again (heading east (#10)

My driver was my third Native Canadian teacher of my trip home. He was going to Vermilion Bay, just a few hours down the road, to pick blueberries. Like the woman in BC who was off to air dry salmon by the river, this driver's family had been picking blueberries for personal use and for selling from this locations for generations. In my travels I seem to frequently get the driver I need. This ride was exactly what I needed. Not just because he was going in the right direction but he was the perfect person to vent to.

I was not in a good mood. It had been a long day and some of the people that I had interacted with had not been nice to me. The OPP officer and the people who played silly games with me had frustrated me and had reduced in some way my usually boundless faith in human nature.

So as soon as I got into the vehicle I started to talk about my day. I don't usually dump on my drivers - or at least not first thing. But I did this time. My driver was gentle and understanding. As I talked through the day, my tension reduced and I started to relax. We stopped briefly  in Kenora for a coffee for my driver and a juice for me., we got directions.

While I suspect that this driver and the elder who picked me up just outside of Whistler were about the same age, they had quite completely different attitudes about the "plight" of First Nations communities and individuals. My present driver unlike my driver in BC who stated quite clearly that his community had to accept some responsibility for the current state of affairs, was far more angry and not inclined to accept anything I said as being true. I wondered later if there is a difference in the First Nation experience in Northern Ontario as opposed to B.C. Perhaps the racism and the discrimination was less or at least different out west. I think it has been a consistent experience that I have gotten along better with individuals of First Nation ancestry in the western part of the country than I have with those from central Canada.  There was no time where thought my ride was in jeopardy, but there were times when he was quite forceful in making his point.

He was an interesting man, he had a not-so-gentle humour about him as he teased me and pushed me to answer his questions about what I believed and how I lived my life. I didn't mind. It was good for me. Interestingly he was the second driver who questioned my daughter's need to know where I was occasionally.

As we approached Vermilion Bay he asked me where I wanted to get out. He was planning on heading down some side road and I was a bit uncomfortable being in Northern Ontario, well past 10:00 PM heading down a side road. I was quite frankly, not too sure where I was. And then, out of the darkness, in what felt like the middle of nowhere, on our left, there was a motel, and it was still open. I asked him to stop, we shook hands, I thanked him for bringing me back to some sense of being balanced and got out of the car. He smiled and said something to the fact that we always get what we need. I dashed across the highway and got a room. It was a great place. The person who took my money was friendly, the shower worked great and the bed was comfortable. It had been a long few days since Whistler where I had slept in a bed and had a shower. I was happy again.

A minor rant

I don't hate computers - in fact I find them to be useful tools in both my professional and private life. I have had one since the days of the Radio Shack TRS-80 and the VIC 20. But computers, or rather those who insist that I need a better one - drive me crazy.

I was quite happy with Windows 98 and the associated software. I need a typewriter and occasionally a spreadsheet - the machine that does those things does not need to be upgraded every 2 years. For the past few weeks I have been struggling with my computer. All that I wanted to do was to make it a bit faster.

I tried to run Ubuntu which is an open source operating system - worked great except it would not run my canon printer. I tried to re-install Windows XP on a newly formatted hard drive but Windows would not let me format my C drive. It drove me crazy and made me grumpy.

It is finally done and all is well but why did Bill Gates and the boys and girls who work for him decided that I could not be trusted with DOS? Life was so much easier when one needed to use common sense to and some intelligence to operate a computer. Someone has decided that we are all dummies and therefore the best solution is for us to trust someone else to decide what is best for us.

I am not too sure which is worse - being treated like I am stupid or feeling stupid taking so long to figure out a way around the problem.

On the Road Again (heading east) #9

It had turned out to be a lovely but warm day. I was in some ways envious of those young couples and families who were off to play in the water. Still I was delighted to be away from the road construction.

After watching cars go by for about 45 minutes an old Winnebago type vehicle pulled up. Every hitchhiker I know dreams of getting a long ride in a well fitted home on wheels. I have only ever had one other ride in any type of a travel-home and it wasn't very big.  The one that stopped just ahead of me looked in pretty bad shape but I am never one to turn my nose up at a ride.  Inside was a mess. It was clear that the four young people had been traveling in it for awhile. In fact three of them had driven from the west coast and the fourth passenger was a hitchhiker that they had picked up a few days ago.  They were off to some sort of music festival not too far down the road. I could never get them to tell me what kind. I don't think they knew.  It wasn't a very long ride but it was a strange one.

There was nowhere for me to sit so I stood up in the side door well. The door rattled behind me and I was fairly sure that if I fell against it, it would pop open. No one talked to me. The young people just totally ignored my presence after sharing with me the barest of information of who they were. 20 minutes down the road we reached their turn off and out I got. In the middle of nowhere.  There were a fair number of cars on the road but well over half of them were turning up the same little road that the travel-home had gone up. It looked to be an interesting mixture of people. There were large 4X4 trucks with dirt bikes in the back, a few vans with flowers painted on them and lots of normal sedans with folks looking fairly nicely dressed. I think if someone had suggested that I go have a look I might have done that. I was that curious. In hindsight I suspect it was some sort of electronic music, rave sort of thing and therefore I am glad that I didn't spend any money going in.

As I stood there I started to noticed that more drivers and passengers were noticing me than usual. There were more waves, but there were also more middle finger salutes and other rude gestures than normal. I even had a few cars slow down so that people could yell out insults. It was particular strange in that some of the folks doing this were not teenagers but people who looked to be in the late 30s or older.

I eventually got a drive by a teacher who was driving to a tourist area called Falcon Lake. It was an hour or so down the road but I was glad of the ride. It was a pleasant ride not the least because he was very generous with the bottles of cold water that he had. I drank 2 bottles in the time that I was with him.  I had been rather careful with my water and was clearly a bit dehydrated. I also needed to flush some of that sand out of my mouth.  It was quite a luxury having access to all that water. He was off to play some golf and then camp at the Provincial Campsite for the rest of the weekend. I think  Falcon Lake is one of Winnipeg's major getaway sites.

After he left me out and turned down the road to the camp I recognized where we were. Last year when I was driving with a young man who was having difficulties with his sports car we had stopped at the garage to see if we could get some parts for the car. It was a nice spot. Lots of green grass to look at, great shoulders to stand on and enough of a straight road so that drivers could get a good look at me. It was however a bit discouraging that not only did no one stop, but there were a couple of times when a driver's behaviour was somewhat disturbing. Most memorable was the time when a late model car with an old man and someone I assumed to be his wife pulled over. As I ran up to the car, two teenagers popped up in the back seat and started to laugh at me as the car pulled away. I guess I can understand this kind of juvenile behaviour when a teenager does it, but it is much harder to accept a father teasing me this way with his kids in the car. Not the kind of lessons that a parent should teach his children.

I was also discouraged in that I had had such great luck until today and I was disappointed that it was not continuing. I clearly had become to optimistic about my hitchhiking skills. At one point I decided to walk up a long hill just to see if there was anything worth while on the other side. I thought perhaps there might be a town or a motel or something. There wasn't and so I walked back down the road to my spot just outside what I thought were the Falcon Lake campgrounds.

About 6:30 I decided to find a place to sleep and so went into the campgrounds. It was a big area with a garage/store, some play grounds tent camping and a motel. The lake looked really nice and I was quite content to stay for the evening. Unfortunately  the camp grounds were full and the motel wanted $130.00 a night. I went up to an OPP office and asked if he had any suggestions because if not I was going to sleep on the side of the road. His only answer was that he didn't think that was a good idea and that I should get back on the road. I did mention to him that it would be dark in a hour and that it was dangerous to hitch in the dark. He didn't care - he just told me to "try harder!!" I felt as if I had been run out of town. I bought some water and went out to try my luck one more time. I then noticed that the spot where I planned on sleeping had been taken over by a couple of deer and their fawns. I was kind of looking forward to sleeping there.

However just after the sun set and literally five minutes before I was ready to pack it in for the day a van stopped and offered me a ride. To stay there with the deer was tempting, and a large part of me did not want to prove the OPP officer that he was right - but a ride is a ride - so I got into the vehicle.

Sometimes life just sucks

Last weekend I went to a funeral. It was for someone who I had last worked worked with 6 - 7 years ago, before I went back to school. We had somehow lost touch with each other as I have with most of my friends from that era. Not for any particular reason. People change and especially in this day and age, it is all to easy to drift apart.

I generally try to live my life without regretting things I cannot change. I try not to feel bad for all thjose things that I didn't do. But I have spent the last week regretting that I didn't stay in touch - that I didn't make the effort to be there when I could have been and perhaps should have been.

And now I have just heard that another friend has died. I wasn't there for her either. It doesn't matter that I didn't know that perhaps I could have helped. All that matters is that I didn't call and see how she was.

They were both remarkable people and the world will be poorer without them. Perhaps their last gift to me is the reminder that I need to reach out and to stay connected.

On the Road Again (heading east) #8

I didn't sleep well that night The ground was rough and the weeds were thick and stalky. It is always difficult to find a space to sleep when it is dark, not just because one can't tell if the ground is even, but also it hard to get things organized. I suppose I could use my flashlight more but I don't want to attract attention as I am getting ready to go to bed. I always know that I am trespassing and I don't want to attract the attention of people who are bored and who are looking for excitement.

By 5:30 AM the next morning I was up and packing my gear into my pack. I made use of the Flying J's bathroom to clean up and then went and had breakfast. Once again I was amazed that no one noticed me, or at least acted as if I didn't belong. I felt grubby and more than a little bit road stained. It had been a long two days.  I am not sure if I would have served me breakfast without making sure that I could pay for it. But they did and I ate my fill at the buffet. The parking lot outside looked full. I was surprised that the large restaurant was almost empty except for a older couple and a trucker who was grumbling at being stuck in Winnipeg because his load was not ready.

As soon as I finished eating I hoisted the pack on my back and walked for about 20 minutes to the nearest bus stop. There were lots of cars going onto the ring road that circles Winnipeg, but I made the assumption that most of them were just local drivers who would not be going very far. I suppose I could have stayed there for awhile but it made more sense to take a bus across the city to the east end. It was a smooth bus trip and almost with no waiting for connections I was quickly at the other end of the city.

When I had gotten up there had been a thick fog and looked like it might rain all day but by 8:00 when I was on the east side of Winnipeg, it had started to clear to become somewhat muggy. I was glad that it was not going to rain but I could have done without the mosquitoes. Last year I had made the same across town bus trip and had gotten a ride very quickly. I assumed, in part because I had had such great rides out west and back again, that it would be that easy again this time. I terribly wrong.

There were lots of cars but they all appeared to be local traffic or else contained  families.  It was Saturday and I should not have expected very much. I walked for a fair distance, always looking for that perfect spot where the shoulder and sight lines were be in perfect harmony. I was also looking for the ring road. I wanted to get past it so that the majority of cars passing me would be heading east towards Ontario. I finally got a ride from a older man in a pickup truck who was going just down the road but who said that he could get me to a good spot where there were some stop-lights. I knew the spot he was talking about and was glad. I was wrong - I was thinking of another spot and where he let me off was not good at all. It was in the middle of a construction zone.

It was dirty, every time a big truck went by a bucketful of dust was thrown at my face. I could feel the dirt between my teeth. Drivers were clearly irritated at the highway being reduced to one lane traffic and having to deal with dump trucks. They were not going to stop for me. It was really quite miserable. I was stuck there as the sign said the construction lasted for another 15 kilometers. I don;t mind walking for a bit, but 15 kilometers was a bit much. There was some occasional entertainment from some ATVers who were riding in the ditches along the highway. It was pretty swampy in the bottom and they were having a great time. They at least were dirtier than me.

Finally the driver of one of the dump trucks that had been passing me all morning felt sorry for me and gave me a drive to the end of the construction. He was a very generous guy who genuinely felt bad for me and wanted to help. In spite of the fact that I have been stuck in road construction areas before it was the first time I had got a ride from such a trucker. I agreed with him that it was dangerous for both me and the trucks to have me standing there. He suggested that it should be a policy that truckers give hitchhikers a ride to get them out of the way. I could not have agreed more!

He let me out just outside a campground that also had a waterslide which was where everyone who had been passing me had been going. To the west of this campsite - there was lots of traffic, to the east there was almost none.  No wonder why no one had stopped for me. It was going to be a long Saturday.

On the Road Again (heading east) #7

I like Medicine Hat - I don't like walking through it but I like the corner I stand at on the east side of that city. Great shoulders, good visibility and enough stuff happening that it remains interesting. But I was tired and I felt dirty. It would have been nice to stop except as I have found out other times, there is no where to stop. The east side of Medicine Hat is an expensive place to sleep.

I fairly quickly got a short drive down the road a piece - which probably was not the best decision in terms of being in a good spot but I was on such a roll in terms of getting great rides, I didn't want to lose the rhythm. I didn't write down where I ended up but I think it was somewhere near Dunmore Alberta. My notes say it was hot and the air still smell of smoke.

I wasn't there very long when I got a ride. It was perhaps the dumbest ride of the year and perhaps even of my whole hitchhiking career. Allen (yes I had two drivers named Josh and 2 named Allen this year) was drunk. In my defence I didn't know that when I got in, but within 10 minutes there was no doubt. He was drinking vodka mixed with I think coffee and that certainly masked the smell. He was a bit incoherent. I thought at first that he just had trouble speaking, or that perhaps English was not his first language ( yes I know I am not very bright).

He was bragging about his car - which was a General Motors vehicle called a Cobalt. What made it unique however was that it was a made in the USA car and therefore had a different trim package and a speedometer that read miles not kilometers. I am use to drivers bragging about their cars and have learnt that I do not need to respond to their comments except to agree with them, so I suppose that I could say that I was not really listening to him. I was probably thinking about the fact that he was off to Winnipeg and seemed willing to take me with him.

When I realized that he was drunk, I convinced him to stop the car and let me drive which he did surprisingly easily once he accepted the fact that I was not going drive any further. So for the next 2-3 hours I had to put up with him criticizing my driving and his silly rants about the world. But he did stop drinking. We stopped in Swift Current and he wanted to drive. I said fine, but I was not prepared to go with him so he relinquished the keys and let me drive for another few hours. At some point near dusk he once again said that he wanted to drive.  I was tired and would have had to stop soon. I knew he had not been drinking for a number of hours so I deemed it safe.

Our conversations were disjointed. I don't know why but it frequently feels as if some of my shorter drives leave so much not talked about while some of the long cross country rides are the ones that lack substance. So many times on this trip and on other trips I have wished that I could have travelled further with specific drivers, and I have had my share of drivers with whom I was bored after the first hour. Part of this feeling of dissatisfaction derives in part (I think) from the driver not being interested in me or any of my comments. I don't care what we talk about, but I do like to be part of the conversation.

Allen had been in Calgary visiting a daughter that he had not seen for 16 or so years. I have to admire his courage for making the attempt to reconnect with her. I told him that. I didn't tell him that I could not understand how one could lose contact in the first place. Allen,of course, blamed the girl's mother, and if half of the stories were at least partially true, there may have been some justification for his belief. I am always careful not argue about people's interpretations of their past lives. I barely understand my own, I am certainly not going to try to understand anyone elses. But if I needed to believe his stories about his former wife, then I needed also to believe all of his stories about his girlfriends. It is not surprising that she left him. He had another daughter in Winnipeg. I am not sure if she was his biological daughter or just the daughter of his girl friend. They talked on the phone a few times and there appeared to be genuine affection on his part.

 I don't think we stayed on one topic for more than 10 minutes at a time although we frequently re-visited each story. The conversation got a bit better after he napped for a few hours but it was never stimulating. He had had a difficult week in Calgary and I think he was genuinely grieving leaving his daughter. I think he needed the company and I was available. It strikes me that while it would appear that picking up a hitchhiker may appear to be a selfless act. That people pick up someone on the side of the road to help. This is only partially true. I think some, if not most pick people up for selfish reasons. I am not complaining either way.

We got to Winnipeg about 1:30 in the morning. he let me off and I went behind the Flying J gas station, found a piece of flat ground, tucked my sleeping bag into my tiny tent and drifted off to sleep. My last sights and sounds were the trucks humming in the distance as their drivers slept and the bright metal halide lamps floating like spaceships above the parking lot.

On the Road Again (heading east) #6

It was almost 4:30 when I felt rain drops. Fortunately at about the same time as I was starting to stuff my sleeping bag into my pack, I heard Allen starting to move around in the truck.Two or three minutes the door opened and I got in. We said good morning and we were off. I barely had time to run my fingers through my beard before we were on the highway. At some point during the all too brief night I had looked up and noticed some stars. I was excited in that it meant that the sky was clearing and that the smoke was gone. However my excitement was premature and by the dawn's early light it was clear that the smoke would visible for most of the day. I decided to bypass Canmore and head straight through to Calgary.

By just after 7:00 I was standing by a bus stop somewhere in the outskirts of Calgary waiting for a bus that would take me downtown. As it happens so often when I leave a driver, my goodbye to Allen was brief and I suspect did not adequately thank him for the great ride.But I had a bus to catch and he had a delivery to make. I think he was planning on dropping of the equipment and then heading back to Vancouver as soon as he could. With any luck, he could have been home by late that night.

I have in the past, expressed somewhat unfavourable opinions of the Calgary bus system and the drivers. Perhaps I should apologize. It is a great system once you master it, and I have. I got downtown, got on the right C train and then got off at Rundle Station. The number 48 bus got me to the the east side of town and I was ready to hit the road again. But I was not ready psychologically. The trip had been too fast. I had not, because of the smoke been able to say good bye to the Rockies. For me being in Calgary heading east means that my summer is over. Being  in Calgary means that I have to grow up a little bit and get back to that other world I inhabit for nine months of the year. I, quite frankly, did not like it.

It is a relatively long walk from the last bus stop in Calgary to the outskirts of town. Fortunately the road passes by a mall and so I stopped for breakfast. At McDonald's! It seemed to be the only place open. It is quick, the food, especially after not having eaten for 30 hours, tastes OK and I knew no one would care or even notice if I cleaned myself up in their bathroom. Besides I needed time to acclimatize to be on flat land. Still I was on a roll and I did not want to waste the luck that had been coming my way, so after doing the best I could with my appearance and eating the breakfast far too quickly, I was off again.

The weather was gray and somewhat dismal. People on the train had been complaining about the smell of smoke and newspapers had the forest fires as the lead story. It was a lot better than in Rockies, but it was still quite noticeable. The dull looking skies matched my mood. The road construction that has been going on for years, and which has sometimes made it difficult to get to the Trans-Canada has been almost finished and so it was much easier walking.

By just after 8:30 my thumb was stuck out on the side of the road. Part of me was rather pleased with myself. I had, on the way west, got through Calgary with no problems and now I had gone east with similar ease. I had gotten some great rides without a lot of waiting and 24 hours after leaving Whistler I was on the other side of Calgary. It looked as if my trip east was going to be as fast as my trip west.

My first ride was to Strathmore which is less than a hour from Calgary. But it was a good start. My driver was an older man driving a big pickup. He worked near Fort McMurry and was just down visiting family. For most of the time we discussed/argued gun control and other issues that frequently seem to divide the country. I certainly understood his point of view although I may have shaken his gun control stance just a touch when I mentioned that a significant proportion of murders happen with families and were done using a gun. There was not enough time to cover all that we could have.While some of my friends on the west coast might have thought him a bit of a "red neck", he wasn't. He was just another Canadian who had a point of view. He was willing to explain those points of views and he was certainly ready to listen to mine. I enjoyed his company. By 10:15 I was on the other side of Strathmore waiting for a ride.

It was cool with a nasty wind so I put on my bright orange waterproof wind jacket. I don't like wearing it as it is completely water proof and therefore I sweat in it. But it does keep me dry and warm. I stood in that spot for a long time. Almost for three hours. Three hours compared to other years was not really a long time but this year the traveling had been so good it may have be the longest up to that point that I stood in one spot. But finally a car stopped. It was a older but mint condition Mercedes.

My driver whose name was Josh was a doctor who specialized in palliative care. He was going to Medicine Hat and wanted to talk to someone to help the time go by faster. For a ride to Medicine Hat, which was two and a bit hours down the road, I would have talked about anything. And we did. In fact we talked about so much that I can't remember much of the conversation. I think that is partially because the good doctor was a bit scattered - we bounced from topic to topic - never really finishing a conversation. Perhaps he was a bit starved for company or perhaps he was just one of those folks who needed to bubble over - talking about a myriad of things.

I am not even too sure what his history was. He seems to have moved around a lot and worked in a number of medical fields. But we talked about the great car ( that he had bought second hand off the proverbial lady who had only driven it to church), his kids, his job, schools and whether they worked or not and  of course my life on the road. In spite of the chaotic nature of the conversationl it was entertaining and fun. With all due respect to my other drivers and friends - it had been awhile since I had had a semi-academic discussion. So it was fun to have to think and talk about things a little more clearly.

There were a couple of times when he touched my knee - all within context of making a point but I was a little bit uncomfortable. After the second time I happened to mention that I was somewhat tactile senitive and he never did it again. That may have just been a coincidence. He copuld have been one of the folks who like to touch. He was glad to drive me to the east end of Medicine Hat which meant that I did not have to either walk through the city or to figure out their bus system. By just after 3:00 I was ready to look for another drive.

On the Road Again (heading east) #5

Kamloops is not my favourite city to hitchhike out of. I am not sure why.   I have been downtown and it is nice. In fact one day perhaps I will stay there for a night or two. The people in the area treated me well, the bus drivers have been particularly helpful ensuring that I get to a good spot to hitchhike from.  It was in Kamloops some years back that I met a old-timer who had grown up in Lindsay and who had spent part of his youth herding a pack train up into the hills to feed the timber men. I would love to meet him again. The hostel (so I have read) is in an old court house which sounds fun. So there is a lot about the city that attracts me.

But the highway out of town is flat and the views are not remarkable. Depending on where I am let off, sometimes I have to walk for miles before I feel it is "allowable" to hitchhike. Along the highway the cars and trucks line up two abreast at the numerous stop lights, itching to get a move on as soon as the light turns green. I always wonder if I am standing in the right place. If I stand too far away from the lights, the cars are going too fast to stop easily. If I am too close to the intersession then the cars are so close to each other that it is hard for them to pull off.

On this particular stretch of highway it is always busy but I knew from previous experience that if I did not get a ride before 4:00 or so, I would have to deal with rush hour traffic which which would make it even worse. The drivers seemed focused on switching to what ever lane would get them to their destination five minutes earlier. They certainly were not looking at me. Perhaps they were only going up to Salmon Arm and didn't think that it was worth stopping. It would be worth it for me. Sometimes I think about getting a sign saying " pick me up - I'll go anywhere as long as it is down the road a bit" 

When I am standing on the side of the road it is not very often that drivers make and keep eye contact with me. Quite frankly between the glare of the sun and tinted windows I usually can't see the driver until they are very close to me. I just look in the general direction of the front window and hope they think I am making eye contact. I also don't pay much attention to vehicles once they go past me. If they don't look like they are going to stop there is not much point looking at them. But on this day just outside of Kamloops I made good eye contact with the driver of large white delivery truck as it passed me. I noticed that he went up the the next set of lights and then turned off the highway. I turned my back and waited for the next on-rush of vehicles as the lights changed. I was surprised when five minute the same truck came towards me, stopped 10 feet in front of me and the driver motioned to me. He had turned around to offer me a ride. I am use to cars or trucks stopping 100 meters up the road and expecting me to run to them, this was a treat!

Allen was delivering a piece of highly specialized medical equipment to Calgary and needed to be at the depot by the next morning. It was almost too much for me. I could, if I chose, be through the Rockies and onto the Prairie Provinces with 20 hours. I didn't want to be travelling that quickly. I had sort of envisioned staying at the nursing home in Salmon Arm or perhaps the hostel at either Revelstoke, Golden or at the very least Canmore. This was all too fast for me. I suspect I initially appeared a bit ungracious, but if so Allen didn't say anything.

I told him that I was surprised that he had gone passed me and then had turned around. It was a lot of extra work. He told me that his father had told him that before he picked up a hitchhiker he should drive pass and think about for a mile or so. If he still thought he should pick him, then it was worth it to turn around. Interesting and probably sound advice except that most people would forget about me as they drove down the road.


It was a good ride. We had lots to talk about. Probably the most interesting thing was that Allen was adopted. He had been born to a First Nations mother but had been adopted at birth to a good white family. There had never been any secret as to his heritage. Throughout his schooling, belonging to the cadets and then the armed forces, it always been stated that his heritage was native. He never bothered to get his status confirmed or to apply for any special privileges. However one day he decided to contact the government to get some information about his background and then started to hit bureaucratic barriers. It took may miles to get the story out as we frequently got sidetracked into other issues.

Allen had been adopted in Ontario but he was born in Alberta - which meant I think that he was amongst the last of the those First nation children who were "snatched" by government services and given to parents who wanted to adopt. There were 1,000s of children adopted in this way. Some were taken from the parents perhaps for good cause, but others were taken for the simple reason the policy was a racist one. The social workers and the government believed that such children would be better off with white parents. He was quite excited as he thought that he had found out through a lot of research the name of his original community in Alberta.

But  the government appeared to have lost some of his adoption papers and would not confirm his status or any of the other information that he needed.The only way that he could have his status confirmed was to pay $60,000 for a genetic test. Neither of us could understand why he should have to pay for it. Another driver somewhere in eastern Manitoba told me, when I told him Allen's story, that most bands will pay the fee and then get it back from the federal government.

Allen was a nice guy. Most of my drivers are kind people. Certainly none of them are bad people, but not all of them are truly nice. Allen was. Because he had access to trucks, (through his company who allowed him to borrow them) he worked most weekend for his friends, helping them move furniture or wood or whatever else needed to be moved. I think he would have helped anyone. He was just one of those people.

As we drove through the various mountain ranges the air continued to be "smoggy". In fact I did not see a single mountain peak all the way through. I saw no point in getting out at any of the towns along the way as it was clear that the smoke form the fires was going to hang around for a few days. I had a ride and I might as well stay with the truck at least until Canmore. Allen and I both agreed that after Rogers Pass, the air would be a lot clearer.

Allen had never been sure how long he was going to drive. Just west of Banff he announced he was tired and that he needed to pull of for a bit. As it was after 2:00 in the morning and he had been driving for well over eight hours without a break, I could understand why. He pulled off the highway - got into the back of the truck and fell asleep. I pulled out my sleeping bag and tried to get some sleep by the side of the van. It was a noisy area with cars and trucks going to and from Banff although where they were going to or from at 3:00 in the morning was beyond me. There was also a bit of a hill and if I had not had my pack to lean against, I would have ended up in the deep ditch. It was the ditch that caused me the most concern. It was there not only to deal with the spring run off but it was also part of the elk and bear fences and special gates that run along the roads near Banff to keep the wildlife and people apart. While it would have been neat to see a bear or some elk, I would have preferred to not be entangled in my sleeping bag when I saw them. Fortunately, none used the gate or at least none that I saw.

On the Road Again (heading east) #5

 Josh - the driver of the small red Toyota- was a young man who was having a good time with his life. He was spending the summer travelling from music festival to music festival, not performing but hanging around the performers, developing his craft. For him the best part of the festival was playing his music and jamming with others around the campfires once the concerts were over. During the winter months he headed south to spend his time in warmer climates. Last winter he had been in Mexico attending a music school learning about rhythm and how to play what I think was a sort of jazzy Spanish rhythm type of guitar.

Josh had followed this pattern ever since graduating from high school; take the summer to hang around western Canada, earn some money in the fall and then visit a different country every winter. He could not imagine a better education and quite frankly neither could I. However he was getting tired of the life and not having a sense of permanence. He was thinking that this might be his last year of traveling. He loved his life of freedom and learning new music. He didn’t want to be restricted or tied down. He also knew however that he would benefit from a more formal musical training both in terms of the contacts that he would make and the skills that he would develop. The thought however of going to university and being in his words - forced to learn about subjects for which he had no interest - was more than he could bear. We talked about community college as a more hands-on experience that might be more useful for him. He had never really thought about it before. He had always assumed that university was the only option. It continues to amaze me that high school guidance people direct bright kids to university and less bright kids to college regardless of what their interests are. He hadn’t wasted the past few years, but there had been other options and he had never been encouraged to think about them.

Part of his problem in deciding what to do was that he had met a young lady at a festival and had become (although he didn’t easily admit to it) completely and absolutely entranced by her. They had played music together and at least according to Josh their musical styles were very compatible. He wanted to stay in BC so they could get to know each other better. The young lady happened to be from Salt Spring Island (and in fact he had heard her talking about Sally). There was no doubt in my mind what he should do. I am hoping that when I go out west to Salt Spring next summer, I might get to meet him again. He was a kindred spirits in some ways. He might have been one of those people who would never quite fit into the world the way people thought he should. He had more courage than me, or at least he had learnt it earlier then I did. At any rate he seemed far more comfortable with whom he was than I had been at his age.

It was another great ride with good conversations about politics, music love and a host of other topics. I even considered traveling with him to the music festival, it would have been fun but I decided not – I still had 4000 kilometres to travel and while the rides had been good, I could not be sure that the good luck would continue. I thought that if I had time to play, perhaps I would wait until Golden or Canmore where the hazy smoky sky would clear and the mountains would once again be visible. He got me to Kamloops in good time and let me off in a reasonable location.
Just down the road from where Josh let me off were two young men hitchhiking. Seeing anyone hitching had been a rather rare occurrence this year and I was glad to see them. I of course threw the pack up on to my shoulders and started to walk past them so that they would remain first in line. As I walked by I said “hi how is it going”…. they answered “o.k”. They had a strong Germanic accent and looked far too young to be so far away from home. They were not standing a particularly good spot and I tried to explain to them that they might do better if they were just the other side of a set of lights. Lord knows there are enough lights on this section of the road. I didn’t bother to explain that I thought it might be still illegal to hitch along this section as we were technically still within the city limits. I didn’t think they understood me as they stayed where they were. I kept on walking until I got further along and until I was on the other side of the next set of lights. About 30 or so minutes later, they walked by me heading out of town. I worried about them. I am not sure if they had hitched before and if they would be safe, but short of calling the police and reporting all of us, there was not much that I could. There are times where I wish I could give better advice – but we hitchhikers are a weird lot. If we took advice easily we probably wouldn’t be on the road in the first place.

On the Road again (heading east) #4

It was a lonely spot. My previous driver was quite right in that he had got me away from all of the local traffic. In fact he had got me away from almost all of the traffic. It was not his fault; there was just not a lot of traffic along highway 99. I was, not for the first time, second guessing if not regretting my decision to take this route. I was glad that I had missed the hassle of going through Vancouver, but this route had taken me longer and it had cost me more money in terms of accommodation and bus fare. On the other hand it has been so far, much nicer scenery.

For a while, the only people that passed me at the top of the short but steep hill were the skiers on their wheeled short skis. I felt both sorry for them as they struggled up the hill, some of them appearing to be more concerned about rolling backwards that any sense of having form or style, and I was a little bit embarrassed as I stood there. I was cool, had lots of water and I was enjoying the view. They all looked two levels beyond exhausted. They made no eye contact with me as they passed me one by one, with sometimes 2-3 minute gaps between them. I tried to think of some witty thing to say but couldn’t. It was as if we were on two different planets. They were locked into a world of pain and being focused while I was in my little hitchhiking world where the only thing of any real importance was where I was going to sleep that night.

A van passed me at one point was some large signs on the side. I think it and therefore the skiers were from sort of cross-country ski training site. Perhaps the skiers were next year’s international champions training year round. I am not envious of them, but I do admire them.

Where I stood was a lovely spot. There was a river valley down the hill in front of me; heavily trees sloped on either side of the secondary highway and a river running under the road just 40 feet behind me. The shoulders were not particularly large, but there was enough space for a vehicle to stop. I don’t think I was there for more the 30 minutes. It may have been more as I sort of lost tract of the time. But eventually an older passenger van did stop. Much to my surprise it was driven by an older woman who like my previous driver was from a first Nations Community. She was off to her family’s fish camp to wind dry some salmon. She was a great story teller and for the next few hours we talked about various ways of preserving fish, how they were caught, and what life was like living with extended family members all working on the same tasks. She told me stories such as the one about the season that her father along with her brothers and sisters caught and dried over 1,000 fish for the winter. As we drove along the somewhat twisted highway she told me the aboriginal names of the various lakes and rivers and sometimes she would point out where there were little cabins hidden in the forest that belonged to members of her family. As we went across one bridge she told me the story of how her nephew had been killed crossing it one evening. It was a wonderful and fascinating drive. I suspect when her generation has passed on a great deal of local history will disappear. Which will be a terrible shame, as her knowledge was very much alive within her. Not just the words or the facts, but the sense of love for her people and her land.

It was good that it was an interesting drive because we could not see very much. The smoke from the various forest fires that had been burning for much of the previous 2 weeks filled the valleys and covered the peaks of the mountains that shaped and surrounded the highway. There were times that we could not see any more than 20 or so feet. My driver suffered from asthma and was concerned if she would be able to make it to the fishing camp and if she would be able to stay. At one point during our conversation it felt as if she was about to invite me to her camp, but as the smoke got thicker and she became more and more concerned, that option became less likely. While I normally do not get off the beaten track, I would have this time. I was that spellbound by the stores of my driver.

As my drive came to an end, the air cleared somewhat and the smoke was reduced to a consistent haze. It was still noticeable but it no longer felt as if it would endanger my health. As my driver needed to stop for gas and then was just going a little bit down the road, I got out at the gas station, thanked her for the great and interesting ride and started to walk. The shoulder along the side of the road wasn’t very wide and there was nowhere to stand, but the road was flat and in spite of the smoke in the air, I felt the urge to walk.

I walked no more than 20 minutes when I came to a narrow one lane bridge. On the other side of the bridge there appeared to be a multitude of roads going branching off in a number of directions. It took me a few minutes to figure that I did need or want to go into Lilliput. The intersection appeared to be a great place to stand waiting for a ride. It had great visibility, cars, because of a sets of lights, were forced to go slowly and there was lots of room for cars to stop. While the view, because of the constant haze was not spectacular it was pleasant enough. I was right it was a good spot and within 30 or so minutes a well packed Toyota truck stopped. A young driver got out and said that he was going to visit his dad for 20 or so minutes and that if I was there when he came back he would be glad to give me a ride to Kamloops. I was quite content to stay there and wait for him. However after 20 minutes he didn’t come back – nor did he come back after 30 or 40 minutes. I was a bit concerned and irritated. During the time that I waited, another car stopped and offered me a ride to Kamloops. Why I said no to that driver I am not too sure. I certainly kicked myself as I stood there waiting for the red Toyota truck to come back for me.

At one point a young couple walked by me and said that I would have a lot better luck getting a ride if I crossed what appeared to be a long bridge crossing the river (which I assume was the Lilliput River). I took the walk both because someone had generously made a point of trying to help me and I did not want to make it appear that I was rejecting their advice; I also took it as it was in the direction my red truck had gone. I figured either I would meet up with him, or I would be in a better spot to get another ride. Within 10 minutes of me getting to the other side, I saw the Toyota coming towards me. The driver did a u-turn, got out and helped me load my pack into the covered back of the pick-up. I was off to Kamloops.