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.