The driver had let me out just to the west of highway 71 - a
road that leads to the USA. There appeared to be a lot of cars coming from that
direction, all of which were heading towards Kenora. At least 50% of all of the
cars that past me going east turned onto that road. I decided to walk past the turn off just to
make sure that there was not an exit ramp from 71 that I could not see. I didn't want to miss any traffic. There
wasn't, but me walking a couple of hundred yards at least gotten me to spot with a
better shoulder and less traffic. As I was standing there a young man,
with a cardboard sign walked past me. He asked me how longer I had been
standing there, I said "not very long"; I asked him where he was
heading to - he said "Hamilton". And he kept on walking. I thought at
first that he was just being polite and walking far enough ahead so that he
would not interfere with any of my potential rides - but no, he kept on walking
until I could no longer see him.
There are many spots along the Trans-Canada where one can
feel somewhat lonely, almost lost or even that you might be the last person on
the planet. I have for example, stood on sections of the Trans-Canada somewhere
between Winnipeg and Calgary and not seen a car coming or going in either
direction for five or ten minutes at a time, but standing on highway 17
somewhere east of Kenora has to be one of those places, even when there are transport
trucks rushing by, that makes one feel rather alone. I think it is in part
because that highway as it winds its way around the hundreds of lakes or
through sections carved from the Pre-Cambrian shield feels hard. There is no softness
in the landscape, there is no give. Its beauty is majestic. But there is a
crispness to the atmosphere that provides no filter to the harshness and the
potential loneliness of the land.
After being there for an hour or so a large pickup truck
pulling a tent trailer stopped. The driver was heading to Red Lake. The turnoff
to Red Lake is at Vermillion Bay. I had been to that corner a number of times
and while once again it was not a very long ride, it did get me to a place
where there was water, food and if I wanted to, a number of options as to where
to sleep. My driver had come from somewhere west of Winnipeg after dropping off
his adult daughter and a friend. They had been camping and now he was heading
back home. We had not driven very far when we passed the young walker. He was
in a very dangerous spot where the shoulder was almost non-existent. My driver
cursed a bit, checked his rear view mirror, saw that there were no vehicles
coming up behind him and pulled over. He mumbled to himself "hurry up - I
can't stay here" but as far as I could tell, the young man didn't run.
Even I run when a vehicle stops for me and I am carrying a pack. The guy got
into the back and we were off.
It was than an hours drive to the turn off at Vermillion Bay
but during that time we managed to talk about gold mining (which is why Red
Lake exists), the fact that the company do not treat people very well or at
least that there are not enough services or housing to meet the people's needs
and about immigration. MY diver had some misconceptions about Canada's
immigration policy. When I talked about the fact that none of my students ever had
sufficient qualifications to be immigrants to Canada he was surprised. Hopefully
I changed his mind a little bit. He was not a racist but his honest beliefs
about how easy it was to get into Canada would certainly support other racist
thoughts.
As we got close to Vermillion Bay, our driver decided that
he would go a bit further and drop us off on the far side of Dryden. It was
only another thirty or so extra kilometres, but it meant that I would not face
the likelihood of one more short drive from someone who was just going to
Dryden. It also meant that I would not face the possibility of having to walk
through Dryden which if nothing else is time consuming and boring. The driver
said a number of times that if he wasn't hauling the large tent trailer, he
would drive us to Thunder Bay. The man just liked driving and I think was
enjoying my company.
The young person in
the back seat did contribute to our conversation. He did tell us that he had
had his pack stolen by the friend he was hitchhiking with. He didn't tell us
why he was going to southern Ontario or what he had been doing out west. If the
driver had been hoping for some conversation or stimulation to keep him awake,
he would not have got it from the young hitchhiker.
We were driven to the Wall-Mart parking lot at the south end
of Dryden. The young man said that that was great as he had to go in and buy a
sleeping bag. Our driver said that he had an extra one in the trailer. So he
undid all of the clamps, cranked up the tent enough to get at the storage area,
pulled out what looked like a fairly expensive sleeping bag, handed it to the
guy, and then repacked everything. While I was anxious to get going, and I knew
nothing about tent trailers, I stayed and helped as best I could. The young man
did nothing. He did say thank you - but it was at best a minimal response to
what had been a generous gift and a very useful ride.
I bough water at the gas station and he bought some junk
food. As we walked up the hill on the other side of town I could not help but
to mention to my fellow traveller that one of the reasons that we got the extra
miles from the driver was that he was enjoying the conversation. I suggested
that it was our job as hitchhikers to entertain our drivers. He didn't say much
in response. I suppose I was a bit irritated. I really think he should have, if
nothing else acted a lot more grateful for the sleeping bag, and he should have
the man get it out etc. But perhaps I should have been more supportive.
When I stopped at the top of the hill and said this is where
I was going to stand. He kept on walking.
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