2019 On The Road Again #4

In the past 17 or so years, I can count on one hand the number of other hitchhikers that I have met. The fact that there are so few hitchhikers on the road has been the topic of a number of conversations between my drivers and me. On most years, I don't even see anyone else on the road. This year was different.

When I got to the Flying J, I bought a tea and sat down at the round, cement picnic table just outside of the entrance. I had my pack leaning against the seat with my sign for Calgary clearly displayed. I was not that optimistic that I would get a ride that easily from a trucker walking by, but it never hurt to show the sign. Within minutes of me sitting down, an older, shorter gentleman approached me and asked where I was going to spend the night. He too was hitchhiker and he was about to set up his tent somewhere behind the trucks. I told him that I had not thought that far ahead. We chatted a bit about destinations and drives - all of the usual things that hitchhikers talk about, in part to establish our credibility as legitimate hitchhikers. He was heading up to Edmonton. Like so many other people I have met while travelling, he had had a fairly tough life, his body was deteriorating and he was chronically short of money. He smoked and spent part of his time looking for other people's butts. My new friend told me that there was another hitchhiker around and shortly after a young guy joined the conversation. He said he had a pack (although I never saw it) and that he also had a longboard (skateboard) that he used to travel along the highway.

He was a bit overly enthusiastic about his experiences. While I do not think he had taken any drugs, he certainly struck me as being a bit hyperactive. In fact, he was tiring. The older hitchhiker left to find a spot to put up his tent, and I went for a walk to get away from the younger one. When I returned in a few minutes later, he said he was off to look for a ride. I suggested that he not bang on any trucker's doors. He said that he would only talk to those who were up.

Shortly afterwards I found a spot under a small tree, unrolled my sleeping bag and quickly was asleep. It is never quiet at a truck stop as some of the trucks run all night long. It is never dark either as there are always bright lights on - but somehow it is a good place to sleep. I woke up around 4:00 to a light sprinkling of rain. I could have/ should have put up my bivy sack - I would have got another hour or two of sleep. But then I would have had to get up and get organized in the rain and then carried a wet bivy sack all day. I brushed my teeth and my hair in the bathroom, got another cup of tea and waited for the rain to stop. I watched the sun rise in the east and shortly after full daybreak headed out to the highway. There was no sign of my older travelling companion. The younger one who was still haunting the entrance way told me that he had met a trucker who was heading west and who had promised him a ride. He offered to find one for me too.

I left him and his promised trucker and headed out to the highway.