Banff - if I did get a ride that far, it would be the second
furthest I had travelled in one day heading east. Such a ride would ensure that
I would not get stuck at the other end of Kamloops, or outside Salmon Arms or at
any of the other small towns along the way. It would mean that, once again I
would have travelled home through the Rockies in the dark. It would also mean
that I would not get to sleep that day. I had been thinking about getting dry
and warm ever since just east of Whistler. But every time I came close to
calling it a day - someone picked me up. I was not complaining but it did feel
as if there was something out there who did not want me to get warm and dry and
rested.
However I am not a fool. If someone offers me a ride that
covers almost 500 kilometres - especially when I am in the middle of a scary
highway walk facing another hour or two or maybe even three of walking - I take
it. I am glad that I did. It was an interesting ride. My driver had come from Port
Alberni on Vancouver Island (I could have just got a ride from him all of the
way) and was off to meet a friend from France to do some mountain
climbing. By the end of the day he would
have driven for well over fifteen hours. He picked me up at least in part
because he needed some company to keep him awake. I was glad to do so.
My newest driver was almost 30. He was, by profession, a
denturist but he had "retired" early. He had decided that he, along
with his girlfriend who was a nurse, would sell off their possessions and
travel for awhile. There were off to New Zealand for a year, but my young
adventurer had already climbed a number of the higher peaks in South and
Central America. They had decided that they wanted to get the most out of life
when they were young and healthy; that there were no guarantees that if they
worked hard and saved money, that by the time they could afford to retire that
they would be healthy enough to do the kind of adventuring that they wanted to
do. So they had put any long term planning off for awhile and were setting out
in a month or two to see the world.
I certainly admire that perspective. I think
however I am too much of the "ant" as opposed to the "grasshopper"(see
Aesop's Fables ). It is too deeply ingrained into my psyche to plan ahead, to prepare
for the future, to ensure that I have something "tucked away for the rainy
season" to ever think of giving it all up, move to another country and to
not worry about how I could afford to get my teeth fixed next year. We talked
about the pros and cons of each other's life style. I think he understood my
point of view, but having kids and settling down was just too far away for him
to even think about.
My driver was supremely confident - my notes
done the next day suggest that he was just a bit too full of himself. In
hindsight I wonder if he was really all that confident or if he had a need to
tell his stories and perhaps, legitimately, to brag about his accomplishments
in order to have someone validate his life plan. Regardless, if he had done all that he had
said he had done, he was an impressive young man. I admire his enthusiasm, his
courage, and his belief in himself. But I worry about folks like him. What do
they do when they reach their limit, when either there are no more mountains to
climb or hills to snowboard down? What do they do when their adventures start
to cost more and more money or their health becomes just a little bit more
fragile? When they are in their 40s, how do they start over - or do they never
ever stay in one place - forever to look for the next adventure like a junkie
looking for a fix.
It was a great ride - he had lots of stories
to tell about his adventures, about the hills he had climbed and of the friends
he had meet. We continued my conversation about social media. The young lady he
was meeting in Banff was someone with whom he had met once, had maintained a
connection with on Facebook and was now going to spend a day with. He was young
- he could not imagine a life without social media. And I can't fully imagine a
life where social media is the primary method of creating relationships. We
could have traveled for a million miles and never agreed on that topic. But it
really didn't matter, we were just together for a great drive through the
darken mountains. We both knew we would in all likelihood never be in contact
again. When I got out - we did not
exchange Facebook addresses.
We also talked about camping equipment. He
was a great proponent of using light weight hammocks with mosquito nets and a
tarp over it all. It was an interesting comparison between my little bivy sack
and the hammock. Neither one did everything - pity.
I thought about Banff and realized that at 3:00
in the morning there was no where that I could be let off at that would provide
warmth, shelter or food. So I asked to be let off at Golden - where I knew
there would be at least the Husky open and I could use their bathroom and get a
sandwich and a tea. I had the sense that folks in Banff would prefer it if
homeless looking people like me didn't hang out in their downtown core. I was
sorry to get out at Golden. My driver, who had done a great job driving through
a very dark night with the occasional reduced lanes due to construction and
continuing rain, was tired. He admitted that he might not have gotten as far if
I had not been with him. That was certainly true for both of us. But I needed
to get warm and I knew at Banff I would spend a miserable 3-4 hours on the side
of the road waiting for daylight.
So one more time that day - I said my thanks
for the ride and the company, grab my pack and waved good-bye. I was looking
forward to some warmth and to their bathroom.
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