On the Road Again 2015 #27

I like the Husky truck stop in Regina. There is a lot of activity both in terms of trucks and smaller vehicles using both the gas pumps and the restaurant. It is also a bit of a waypoint for hitchhikers. Every other time I have been there I have met a couple of folks either going east or west. It has been fun standing around at the exit, chatting, taking our turns. I have never had to wait very long.

I took the opportunity to use their bathroom and I bought a egg salad sandwich. The truck parking lot was full with a couple of "reefers" (refrigerated trucks) running as their drivers slept. I was reasonably sure that at some point in the next few hours - certainly before nightfall - that most of those trucks would be heading out. Logically at least some of them would be heading east. It would be great to get a thirteen hour drive.

Nineteen hours later I was still there. Still standing at the exit, showing my sign - with not one offer of a ride. I think a number of things happened to conspire against me. One is that there are now two exits from the truck parking lot - you can't be at both of them. Secondly, the whole Trans-Canada strip around the east end of Regina is a lot more built up than it was 10-12 years ago and it may be that trucks heading east don't stop at the Husky as much as they use to. They may have other places to get gas or to park their trucks. Thirdly, there were other hitchhikers around who were not playing by the rules. One was a guy older than me, small and sort of bent over. He had a very large wheeled suitcase. He was standing near the entrance to the store that the truckers use and asked everyone if they were going east - I wondered if he sort of turned off some of the drivers; there was also a young guy, with a large, somewhat disorganized pack who was walking around the truck parking lot asking for rides. I know that irritates drivers. Fourthly, a significant number of the trucks parked in the row closest to me, the ones that were there when I arrived, were still there nineteen hours later. I was told that most of them were there taking either their mandated 36 hour break or were waiting for their dispatchers to find them a load. Fifthly, the bright overhead light at the exit was not on... I think people could see me once it got dark, but perhaps not. And finally, while there was a lot of traffic - I suspect that many of the cars were all local. It may have been that the Husky's gas prices were just better than most, or that other gas stations closed earlier. But few of the cars appeared to be going any distance.

But it was not cold standing there. The sky looked reasonable clear and it was quite comfortable except for the incredible wind. I tried to keep my hat on -just so my hair didn't get any dirtier or messed up, but there were times when in spite of the fact that I had on my "chin string" I still needed to use one hand to clamp the hat down on my head else it would have blown away. At one point, after midnight when things slowed down, I got out my sleeping bag and slept for awhile ten or fifteen feet from the road. The grass was soft and by that point I was use to the noise of the constantly running diesel engines. I would have slept longer except it started to rain. I packed up my bag and ran to the covered entrance to the Husky. The older gentleman had disappeared somewhere and I spent the rest of the night sitting on the sidewalk, reading on my tablet.

As soon as it was daylight, I went back to my spot. It was no longer raining but it was just as windy. An  hour or so later, a young woman carrying a small pack came up to me and started talking. She was from Switzerland and had been in the general area all night. She had come from Ottawa the previous day.  Unknown to me there were other hitchhikers in the area who were also canvassing drivers or standing in other spots along the road. She told me that she/they had been told by the operators of the Husky that she/they was not allowed on their property. I suggested to her that they could not enforce that. That they were just employees and that furthermore that they didn't have the time or the energy to walk out to hassle us. I told her that she (as she was going west) was more than welcome to stand where I was. We talked a little bit, but within fifteen minutes a truck stopped, asked where she was going - she told them - and was offered a ride. I was more than a little bit put out. The truck - operated by a company that never picks up hitchhikers - already had two people in the cab. Many of the companies are now using the "team driving" system. That means that one driver drives , while the other one sleeps. It means that except for fuel and bathroom breaks - the trucks runs for 70 hours straight before there is an enforced break. It is against the law to have three people in a cab. The drivers were East Asian. For all kinds or reasons, but primarily because they are told that they will lose their jobs if they pick up anyone - they almost never pick up hitchhikers. She had got a ride for the simple fact that she was a young female. It didn't feel fair.

I was tired of standing there, so I picked up my pack and walked to the highway in the hopes that I could get a ride from someone, going anywhere east of Regina.

It is easy to get frustrated when truck after truck, car after car goes by, looks you over and decides not to offer a ride. Not only is there a temptation to give it all up, but even worse - one can become bitter, negative or even outright angry at those drivers. But if one is lucky, things happen that can reverse or negate those temptations. Three things happen during my nineteen hours in Regina which made the experience, in spite of the wind, the little bit of rain and the lack of rides a very positive one.

Just around dark, I noticed a car had stopped just before the exit. I could see the man rummaging around in the car and in his pockets. He then drove up to me, lowered the passenger side window and offered me a handful of change. He said he was not going out of town but he wanted to help.  I of course, refused the money, but I hope I did it graciously. He was a kind man who wanted to help. I would never want to discourage him from doing so. A few hours later a young East Asian truck driver walked up to me and asked where I was going. I told him and he said he would ask his "elder" (I assume he meant whoever was teaching him about truck driving) if they could give me a ride. I knew what the answer was going to be, but I thanked him anyways. I was very surprised when he came back five minutes later to say no, they were not allowed to. He then offered me a $10.00 bill! I tried to explain to him that I was standing there because I wanted to be there - not because I was broke. I am not sure if he understood. But again, a very kind man - an immigrant - trying to do the right thing. And finally I met an American truck driver who was stuck in the lot for 24 hours while his dispatcher looked for a load going west. He walked by me a number of times throughout the evening as he looked for places to eat or to drink. Every time he walked by, we chatted. He didn't understand why I wasn't getting a ride - he was worried about me. He offered me something to eat and money. There was at least once I think he got out of his truck, just to talk - to make sure that I was okay.

These three men all took the time to offer me help. They could not give me a ride, but they did their best. Yes - I was feeling tired, and feeling grubby, Yes I was frustrated that I could not get a ride. But people cared about me - were concerned for me. How could anyone ever be angry because one couldn't get a ride when there are others who, in spite of all of the sadness and chaos that exists - still  want to help a stranger? I am a lucky person. Perhaps I needed to spend the day in Regina to be reminded of that.

On the Road Again 2015 #26

I was awake before the sun was up. I had had a great night's sleep but because I went to bed so early - I was done sleeping by 6:00AM. As well, there seemed to be a number of large trucks going down the road, past the motel towards the highway. While I was not overly optimistic that I would get a drive from one of them, if I didn't stick my thumb out - I was guaranteed not to get a ride. It was very tempting to go back into town - just to have breakfast at the diner. I suspected that it would be a much busier and much more interesting place in the morning, but I had spent enough time in Gull Lake. It was time for me to head towards Winnipeg. With any luck, I could be there by nightfall.

There were stop lights at the corner of the road to and through Gull Lake and the Trans-Canada.  I always wonder if, on other countries' main highways, they too have stop lights in the middle of nowhere. Certainly if I was cruising down the road,  trying to get to some distant city, I would have been surprised to find that I had to slow down. It was not obvious that there was a little town just off the highway, or that there were other towns even further down that road.

The corner however, was very busy. Most of the big trucks that I had heard from my motel window were grain trucks, delivering or picking up the grains that had just been harvested. I knew that there was absolutely no chance that these trucks, which were really just local traffic would ever stop to pick me up. There was a fair amount of traffic on the road, but some it turned north or south off of the highway. Many of the drivers who went straight through looked as if they were dressed up for work, I knew that Swift Current was only half an hour away. I assumed that the majority of cars that did pass me we heading in that direction. It was a crazy place to stand in that the normally wide shoulder became the entrance ramp. I was forced to walk a fair piece down the road before the shoulder reappeared. Any effect that the stoplights may have had in slowing down the traffic was dissipated by the time the cars reached me.

Finally a little bright yellow car stopped and picked me up. I think it may have been the first time that I have gotten a ride in yellow car. My driver was an older gentleman who was just going to Swift Current. I say "just"  because so many people pass me by and many of them are just going a little bit down the road - some even indicate that to me by showing me their hand with the thumb and forefinger separated by  half an inch or so. Someone could have driven me to Swift Current an hour earlier if they had thought about it. Obviously in the 50 kilometres we had little time to talk about anything other than the weather. He did promise to let me out a better spot.

I am not sure if it was a better spot, but it was a spot that I knew well. It was just outside the Husky station and restaurant. It is a weird place to stand - lots of space but it is on a bit of a curve, with cars on the  right of me, heading at highway speed to the east and cars taking the off-ramp on the left, only going marginally slower.  I am never comfortable there.  None-the-less I got a ride fairly quickly although when I first saw the large pick-up truck I was not too sure what he was doing.

There is a service road down the hill from where I was standing - perhaps ten feet lower than me. In between the service road, and where I was standing is shallow, grass covered ditch. The truck went into the ditch, up the other side, across the exit ramp and pulled up beside me. At first I thought it was just some local guy taking a short cut. A bit crazy, but as long as he didn't hit me or anything else - it was just a bit of entertainment for me to watch. When I realized that he had pulled this stunt because he wanted to offer me a drive - I was a bit less entertained. Delighted for a ride - just a bit worried if the driver was always that reckless.

In fact he was not reckless at all. He just wanted to pick me up and it was the fastest way to get to me. My young driver was off to just east of Regina. Not a long ride - no more than 250 kilometres, but it was so early in the day, that I knew I would be at the large Husky truck stop in Regina by just after 1:00PM. I never had had a problem getting a ride out of there - at least one of the rides had been all the way to North Bay. I was feeling good. I had eaten relatively recently, had had a shower, my clothes were dry, I had slept well and there were drivers out there looking for company.

My driver worked throughout the west provinces building pole barns. The crew had been busy because farmers needed the extra storage space due to the bumper crop in some parts of the Prairies. I knew nothing about how one built a pole barn so I had lots of questions. From what he said, barns were ordered from a company including materials etc and then his crew were hired to assemble it. The barns were basically all the same, differing only in how long they were. They could put them up in a few days. It was an interesting conversation. The young man struck me as someone who was pretty together about his life and what he was doing. He had a great boss who treated the crew with respect - he in return recognized that that respect was in part earned because they worked hard. He knew that he wouldn't do this job forever, but the money was good and he liked the job and the people he worked with.

He was coming back from a funeral. A 18 year old girl and her father from his hometown had been killed in a motorcycle accident. It was pretty sad story only made worse by the fact that the girl's older sister had been killed just before she had turned 18. One has to wonder how the mother and the one remaining sister could cope with all that pain.

He was going another hour or so down the road - but I got out in Regina - I was looking for that one long haul that would get me home. I should learn to take what I am offered and not look for something that isn't.

On The Road Again 2015 #25

The Safe and Sound Inn was the rather boring name for the motel at Gull Lake. It was a typical motel just off the highway - with cement block walls, slightly mis-matched furniture, a shower stall with a too short curtain, thin towels and really friendly operators. They were Asian and his language skills were not great. However, as soon as I asked if they had a room, he called for his wife. She  got me registered very quickly, didn't even ask for my driver's licence or my plate number. I asked if there was a restaurant somewhere and they gave directions. When I asked what to do with the key in the morning, they said just leave it the room, which is the first time someone has suggested that....but it makes sense. They have a pass key- so why not leave my key where it is easy for them to find? I mentioned that I would be leaving early - they said not to rush - that they never "push" anyone out. They were nice people. It was not very busy there and I wonder if one could make a living running a motel on the edge of the Trans-Canada.

 I quickly dumped my stuff on the floor - spread out the sleeping bag and bivy sack, found my sandals and went to look for a place to eat. It had been 36 hours since eating on the ferry and I was ready for some food.

Gull Lake is not a very big town. According to the municipal website there are just under 1,000 people living there. The streets are wide, many of the buildings look old and quite utilitarian. The sidewalks were cracked and the streets dusty. But it was a charming town. Most of the houses were attractive, well maintained. There were kids playing on the streets and parents out for walks. There was a sense of wholesomeness about the town, a sense of it being a place where I could live. It felt welcoming. It clearly was not an area that had a lot of money, or at least people did not appear to spend their money building big houses - but it felt happy. I only saw four houses for sale which suggests to me that people like living there.

One of the things that impressed me was that on a few  of the buildings around town there were signs posted - stating what the original use of the building had been and who had worked/live there. It made for some fascinating reading. There seemed to be enough stores to get most of one's basic business done. There was post office, a grocery store, a farm store, a place to get your hair done and another for your nails, a corner milk store that also sold some sort of fried chicken and a restaurant.

 It was not a fancy restaurant, but it served food and that was all that I needed or wanted. When I walked in, the only other customers were a couple with their high school aged son. They had no food in front of them. I wondered if they were just finishing up and the restaurant would be closing, but I was made welcome - offered the usual coffee. I was going to just ask for water to start with when I noticed an array of teas in boxes arranged above the counter - so I got a mint tea. An unexpected bonus indeed. The menu was typical. Lots of fried food, and lots of meat. I had assumed that I was going to get a grill cheese sandwich and some fries - there is seldom anything else that I can order. But they had some egg dishes - so I ordered a Denver sandwich without the ham. It was great and so were the fries.

The waitress was in her  late 30s (perhaps), friendly and warm. While I was clearly an outsider, it felt okay. I knew that I would never move Gull Lake, or that in all likelihood that I would ever get a chance to meet the people in the restaurant in any other circumstances, but I didn't feel like a complete stranger. And that was nice. I spent much of the time before my meal came writing up my travel notes. There was time when I didn't need to keep track of who had picked me up I, but that time had passed me by.

Three other people came in and it was fun to watch them order. They clearly knew the menu well - but the restaurant's food order had not come in and so some of the food they ordered was not available. It is my sense that generally people who have their first two requests turned down - get a bit irritated. Not these folks. I suspect that certain foods not being available was not an uncommon thing. The restaurant was clearly part of the community - not just a place where folks ate.

After supper I walked around for a bit - but I was tired. I went back to my room, moved my damp stuff around a bit so that it would dry and got ready for bed. I was in bed and asleep before the sun had finished setting.

On the Road Again 2015 #24

Gull lake is just east of Swift Current. It is about 450 kilometres from Calgary. While it was still not the marathon drive I was looking for - it was a nice ride and as always, I was grateful.

My driver had been in Calgary over-night dropping his girlfriend off at the airport. She was going to the Philippines to visit her family. To the best of my knowledge, any of the relationships my drivers have talked about in the past 13 or so years have always been with non-immigrants (that sounds awkward and I apologize). That is, my drivers had relationships with people who generally came from the same class, race and culture as they did.  I suppose it is a sign of how the world is changing. Whereas twenty years ago it might have seemed to be unusual for a guy from BC to meet someone from half the world away and develop a long term relationship via technology, or a farm boy from central Canada to have a relationship with someone from the Philippines - it no longer is. I found it rather extraordinary and absolutely delightful that somewhere in southern Saskatchewan that this is true. There are times when, as I read the papers, I groan in despair over the absurdities of people fighting and all too often killing, about race, religion or culture. But then I meet these drivers who in their own way are refuting all of those silly claims about one group being better than the other. That quite frankly is as good as any other reason to hitchhike.

It was a quiet drive. We talked about a thousand things as we went along. My driver, who was still not over 32, had had an interesting life. He came from a very religious family and had spent three years in China as a Christian missionary. It seemed a strange thing to do - he had had to raise the money himself, both the cost to get there and to be supported for the three years. He clearly was not wanted there, he did not speak the language and I could not figure out what is role was when he was there. I didn't push him too hard . He had clearly gone to China because of a personal conviction. It was not my place to question how he demonstrated his faith. I would have liked to have a more in-depth conversation about China and the people there - but I did not get the sense that he really knew it that well. I think he spent much of the three years being both uncomfortable and concerned about his safety.

He was quiet man - given to slow sentences with spaces in between as he careful considered his words. He talked about how hard it was develop a relationship, the in and outs of working as a mechanic in a small town, growing up in southern Saskatchewan. It was not the most stimulating conversation that I ever had, but it was comfortable and relaxing. It was also a remarkable drive in that not once did the driver ask about my faith. He was clearly a deeply religious man. A number of times during our five or so hours together, he mentioned that he and his girlfriend had prayed together over a particular problem or issue. He also talked about the moral dilemmas of working for people who made decisions based on people versus money. But he never preached to me and I don't think he would have preached at anyone else. It has been my experience that drivers who have a deep faith feel somewhat obligated to, at the very least, test the waters about my faith. In fact generally they have been so aggressive about trying to convert me that I have been glad to get out of the vehicles. But not this guy. He was clearly comfortable talking about his faith - he just felt no need to convert me. I liked him for that.

At Medicine Hat we pulled off for a bit to go shopping at the mall. His girlfriend had told him he needed to get an iron. Like so many people I know, my driver had never ironed a single shirt. So we talked about ironing a bit, then he went off to look for an iron and I walked around the mall. It could have been a mall in Victoria, Calgary, Thunder Bay or Sudbury. They all have the same food courts, the same shoe stores, the same clothing stores. I swear if one was parachuted blindfolded into a mall, one would not know in which city it was located. Except for the jewerly store. My newest theory of nothing is that while all of the shopping malls of Canada are interchangeable - in every mall there is at least one jewerly store that is unique to that geographic area- one store that is not part of a chain.

Regardless in spite of discovering this new theory, it was an incredibly boring 45 minutes as I hung around the entrance to the mall. We had agreed on when and where to meet, but I am always afraid that I may have misunderstood my driver's instructions or that they will forget me. I therefore spend most of the time within ten feet of the entrance. We however, did meet up where we were supposed to, about the time we were supposed to, he grabbed a couple of burgers from the A & W stand and we were off again.

While I was completely dry - even my shoes, I felt dirty. My hair and beard had sand in it from the winds around Cache Creek, my hair had curls and kinks in it from getting wet and then having a hat jammed down on it, my beard had permanently separated into two halves and I was reasonable sure that if I didn't smell - I would fairly soon. I was also sure that there were things in my pack that were, at the very least damp. They too, in the reasonably near future, would start to grow mold if I didn't do something about it. It was only 6:00PM when my driver said that he was turning south and where did I want to be let out. I said if there was a cheap motel, somewhere near the highway - that would be great.  He said there was - drove me the 200 yards to the parking lot - I saw the purple painted cement block structure and said this looks perfect and got out.

I could have stood on the highway and tried for a ride....but I was determined that this night I was going to get to sleep in a motel bed.

Refugees #3

The Conservative government has just announced their revised plans to speed up the process in accepting Syrian refugees into Canada. They are prepared to commit more money (which means more staff) to working on the processing of applications. They have also committed more actual dollars, matched to Canadian's private contributions, to support refugees in their daily needs while they are waiting for a resolution to their private and national crisis.

Good for them. One can't help, regardless of the obvious crassness of the political timing, feeling that finally Canada is doing something useful. I must confess however, to being more than slightly uncomfortable cheering for the Conservatives' sudden change in their position. Part of that is a somewhat immature reaction to anything that the Conservatives do - but my reluctance to cheer is also because I am not too sure if it is the right decision -I am not at all convinced that bringing in 10,000 to 15,000 Syrian refugees does anything to resolve the issues that need to be resolved in that part of the world. Yes - for those refugees who do get to come to Canada - their lives will be immeasurably improved in terms of their personal safety and stability, they will have access to some opportunities that in all likelihood they would not have had in their homes. And yes, Canadians will be able to lift their heads up high and in the narrowness of their little world, will be able to say "see Canada is still a country that cares - we did our part" - as if anyone else in the big world outside of our borders really cares. But as I have written before - it is far too little and far too late (see my blogs for September 9/15, May 17/15, February 8/14).

As I look at the heart wrenching images of refugees desperately attempting to breach the borders of small eastern European countries, those countries who have no more capacity to support the thousands demanding help than does Syria, I wonder where the refugees think they will get to. What promised land are they struggling to reach? How is it that they can imagine that the resources of even the richest of the European countries can be stretched to help all those who need so desperately to be helped? One has to wonder what absurd propaganda about the glories of the west have they been reading to believe that the answer to all of their problems is just across the next border. We have done a disservice to the world if we have taught that democracy is a guaranteed path to prosperity.

In the short term those refugees who do manage to get to a country and get accepted by that country as "legitimate' refugees will have their most basic needs looked after. They will be offered a range of supports that will facilitate at least in part, some sort of integration into their new country. But if one looks at the record of almost any country (including Canada) of how successful refugees have been in becoming full participants in the economic growth of the country, it is depressing reading. It seems as if many cities in Europe already have well established ghettoes. Ghettoes where legal and illegal immigrants live, struggling to survive; where frustration about the lack of opportunities can ferment - causing resentment and anger. It is not enough just to take in people. It seems all too often that countries like Canada do the "right thing" in opening their doors, but we do not develop the 20 year plan that is required to ensure that the children who come Canada have the level of support that they will need. It is great that we want to help, but what jobs can we offer? Is there really a possibility that those 10,000 to 15,000 individuals will have access to the jobs, the houses or the lifestyles that we all see as being available (at least according to the entertainment media)? Or is it more likely that those individuals will, regardless of their skills or education, will be reduced to the endless drudgery of working two part time jobs in unrewarding jobs? Will they have no choice but to live in ghettoes that are over-crowded with people, but that lack any of the necessary infrastructures needed to make a community thrive.  

I think we need to engage in two separate types of activities if we wish to be perceived as a country has not only cares, but as the capacity to create change. One we need to take in refugees - but not with just with some front end funding that will last for a year or until the next world crisis re-directs our thoughts. There needs to be recognition that integration is difficult and that communities will need ongoing support. For example some schools and community centers will need new money, different resources. It is unfair for those communities to have to decide which programs they will cut so that they can develop new programs to support the new Canadians. Employers will need encouragement (bribes?) to hire not just labourers working for minimum wage, but people who can contribute to and grow with the company. And they need to do so in such a way that present employees are not disadvantaged. This is complicated business - but we need to be talking about it. It is quite wonderful to assume that each community has the capacity to make these changes without government support - it is just not true.

The second strategy to resolve this crisis is to "fix" the problem in Syria. It is not a matter of whether or not the rest of the world can or should take in the four million refugees - the real question is why are so many people fleeing their country? I am not sure if any one person has that solution. But it would seem to me well past time when people need to start to have this conversation in a very public way. I have limited faith in the ability of the world's senior politicians to even start a meaningful dialogue - never mind come up with possible solutions.