2019 On The Road Again #13

Usually, I like spending time on the Trans-Canada just outside of Banff - the scenery is extraordinary and one could spend a lifetime just along that section of the highway and not catch all of the moods of the mountains. I had thought about going into the Banff townsite with my driver, but it was still early, early enough to catch that one magical ride that would get me to the other side of the mountains and a warm bed to sleep in. If I was really lucky, I might even catch a ride all of the way to the coast. Who says one can't dream with your eyes wide open?

It was not raining (too hard) and initially, it felt a little bit warmer but the light rain kept coming down and the breeze sucked away any body heat I may have generated while in the car. I could not see any of the mountains because the cloud cover was so low and so thick. For not the first time that day, I wished that I could catch the Greyhound bus west - if there were any Greyhound buses to catch.

Eventually, a small, almost over-flowing with possessions pick-up truck stopped. We had to put my pack in the back of the truck. On the front seat was a small cactus which I had to hold as there was nowhere else to put it. It seemed a small price to pay to get to Golden. My newest driver was a professional tree planter. While he may have had other jobs - tree planting was what he did. He and his crew had planted trees in northern Manitoba and Saskatchewan as well as British Columbia. He was originally from the Maritimes but like so many of his kind he had lived, worked and travelled in all parts of Canada. As a younger person, he had gone to Mount Alison University (I think) to study religion and philosophy. We both agreed that neither of those subjects were particularly useful in looking for a job. They did, however, give a solid basis for thinking about the complex issues of the world. My driver was certainly bright enough to have gone on and perhaps become a professor. He had thought about it, and still did - but I think he felt the need to be in the real world where he could use brain thinking about real issues.

He was in his mid-thirties. All of his possessions were in the truck and he had no immediate plans except to get to the next tree planting site. It would be easy to see him as someone who contributed little to our society - he certainly lacked any of the signs of success that we expect mid-thirties males to have. But he was not interested in any of those things. He simply was a wonderful human being who thought about the world and his place in it. He contributed to that world by doing a physically challenging job, one that can take a mental and physical toll on the best of them. He was a caring man who not only picked me up, but he drove me to, when I asked, the west end of Golden.

I like Golden. I have frequently had good luck there - getting long rides right to the coast. In other times, I have spent a day or two there - enjoying the town and the hostel. As I stood just a metre or two from the stoplights I noticed a young man walking towards me. Beside him was a large dog. It was my fellow hitchhiker who I had last seen on a bus in Calgary. We talked for a few minutes about the trip and the weather (he seemed to have survived better than me) and then he headed up the highway so that he would not interfere with of my potential rides. Again - a generous young person who understood the unspoken agreements amongst at least some hitchhikers.