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.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
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.
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.
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