On the Road Again 2015 Interim #10

When I was first invited to Hornby a few years ago I was warned that one needed to get a ride from someone on the Buckley Bay to Denman ferry as there was very little chance of getting a ride from anyone once on Denman Island. Once the ferry traffic has disembarked from the ferry, there is no one else travelling to the other side of the island to catch the next ferry to Hornby. This complication was the primary reason why I had not visited Hornby. I don't like asking for a ride. I don't mind standing somewhere with my thumb out - if people choose not to stop - I don't feel as if it is a rejection of me personally. But if I ask them face to face and they say no - then it is a direct rejection. I prefer to not be exposed to such possibilities. It also feels like begging or asking for charity - I don't like that feeling either. Which may be a bit strange as I spend some summers travelling through the help/charity of other people.

I, because my hosts had picked me up in Nanaimo on their way to Hornby, had had no problem getting across Denman Island the first time. I was concerned however, about my return trip. On Wednesday morning my host drove me to the Hornby ferry terminal. He had only time to ask one driver if they were going all the way (the answer was no) before the ferry was loaded. I walked to the front of the small ferry and hoped for the best. I was the first off the boat and as soon as I could, I stuck out my thumb hoping that someone who was going across the island and ideally south on highway #19 towards Duncan would pick me up. I was fortunate in that the person who my host had spoken to took pity on me and while he hadn't planned on going  to the ferry terminal, did so just to drop me off.

I was feeling pretty lucky and in my silliness assumed that the hard part of the trip was over. I was wrong. It is a bit of a hike up the hill from the Buckley Bay terminal to the entrance ramp on the highway 19 heading south. While I suspect the ambient temperature was about the same as it had been on the smaller islands, the lack of a sea breeze and the heat being reflected off of the dark pavement made it feel much  hotter. Halfway up the ramp there is a notice saying that pedestrians (and farm machinery) were not allowed on the four lane divided highway. It is perhaps interesting to note that bicycles are allowed. The shoulders are very wide and are great for hitchhiking and biking. I remain unconvinced that someone on a bike is at less of a risk than a pedestrian.  At the very top of the ramp there was a large sign stating that hitchhiking was not allowed and that drivers could get charged for stopping. Clearly not a spot that was conducive to getting a ride.

After  experimenting with standing at various places over an hour or two - I gave up following the law by standing by the entrance ramp and headed down the highway for a kilometer or two. I felt that I needed to be far away from the sign warning drivers to have a reasonable chance of getting someone to stop. The speed limit on this part of the highway is 120 KPH.  That is pretty fast and there were times when I wished the shoulders were a wee bit wider.

I got my first ride from a young lady from one of the First Nation communities. I say young because she looked no more than 16 - very small/petite. She was driving a large pick-up truck. Within a few minutes we had established that I knew her uncle on Salt Spring, that she had at least one child, and that I was her first hitchhiker (she had seen me from the back as I was walking along and thought I was a woman). It was a very efficient conversation. She was bright, enthusiastic about life - an absolute charmer. I think I must have misjudged her age by half a decade or so. She was just too mature and knowledgeable to be only 16. Just before she made the turn to Port Albernie (which meant that I had to get out), my driver said that she was doing some work developing a community plan for her community. I passed on some quick suggestions about lending cameras to the young people and the elders so that they could take pictures of their favourite parts of their community. This helps the planners develop community plans based on strengths as opposed to looking at what the community doesn't have. Community plans that evolve from strengths are always, in my mind, better than plans that evolve from deficits.

In relatively quick succession I got a ride from an older gentleman who had taught welding at the local community college for 18 years and a Duncan contractor who had a crew of three or four working for him. Each of the gentlemen were interesting and we could have talked for another hour or two without a break. In fact the last driver and I chatted in the parking lot of Thrifty's for ten minutes. It was a relatively short walk to my son's house and I was home by 4:30.  It had been a long day. I had only travelled a fairly short distance but it was a tricky hitchhike considering that I had had to cross two islands, take two ferries and encourage three drivers to ignore a really silly law about not stopping to pick up hitchhikers.