2019 On The Road Again #15

One would think that given my experiences of the last few days I would have tried to sleep in and certainly would have found a place to have breakfast. I had not gotten an early morning ride on this trip but either "hope springs internal" or you can't teach an old dog new tricks because I got up early, too early to get the motel's continental breakfast, packed up my nearly dried possessions and headed out to the highway again.

Revelstoke is a pretty little town and like Golden, I had spent a number of nights there over the past 18 years, either at the hostel or just sleeping outside. While they have made improvements to the highway that passes through town, and I am sure that the ski hills and ice fields are more popular than ever, the town does not seem to have changed overly much. It has always felt like a place where I could live - if I wanted to live in a place that got upward to 10 metres of snow every year.

It was a relatively short walk to the other end of town, crossing over the iron bridge that always seems just a little bit fragile, especially when a big truck goes over. A few hundred yards past the bridge, there is a small parking space for trucks, RVs and anyone else who needs to stop for the night. It is just a dirt lot - I think there were a couple of porta-potties tucked away along one side, but nothing else. I can not imagine anyone thinking it was a great spot to stop.

I stood at the corner, just a few yards past the lights, I put on my hitchhiking face which I hope makes me look harmless, happy and not completely desperate, stuck out my sign for Nanaimo and hoped for the best while preparing myself for a long wait. I was more than pleasantly surprised when in less than an hour, a transport truck stopped. I was not sure if he had stopped for me but when I saw the passenger door open, I grabbed the pack and hobbled as fast as I could. I had been dreading getting a ride in a big truck. It has been, in the past, a bit difficult for me to clamber up with my pack. With my sore foot and my less than perfect back, I was more concerned than usual. I need not have worried. The trucker reached down, grabbed my pack and lifted it easily into the cab. I knew it was going to be a good ride. When I heard that he was off to Vancouver - it felt even better.

Trucks are seldom the fastest way to get anywhere. There were times when the truck, which had an automatic transmission, had to really struggle climbing the hills between Revelstoke and Vancouver. There were times when both the driver and I were making body motions to help the truck up the long steep grades. A silly thing to do but we both unconsciously did it anyways. But in spite of the sometimes slowness of the truck, I didn't really mind. The conversation was interesting, the quiet times in between were comfortable. I had been picked up early enough that I was quite sure I would make the ferry to Vancouver Island and still have time to get a ride to Duncan.

My driver said that he always picked up hitchhikers when it looked like it was going to rain or if it was getting dark. I liked him for that although I wondered where he had been a day earlier. My driver's story was similar to many others that I have known - he had grown up in south-western Ontario, had spent five years in the Canadian army and then had spent much of the rest of his life driving some kind of truck. It had been challenging for him to maintain a relationship - I think he had had two failed marriages and was now in a long term relationship with someone else. We talked about all of the reasons why it was difficult and what damage was done to the wives and children when dad was away for 14 days at a time. His experiences and the consequences were virtually identical to so many other drivers.

He, and his partner were active in supporting veterans, specifically those who were struggling with society and ended up living on the streets of Vancouver. I had made the assumption that his tour of duty had been difficult, but he said it was a lot of fun. His overseas time had been spent in Germany where there was no danger. I didn't ask, but I wondered if some of the younger vets who had been in more dangerous parts of the world ever thought that his and their experiences were light-years apart.

Almost all of the truckers that I have known have been clear that they are in control of their lives. They speak with bravado - as if no one can ever tell them what to do. In a month's time, my driver was quitting his present job to drive a truck in the city - he would be home every night. At this point, he had nothing to lose. He wanted to have a three day weekend that weekend, something that his present schedule did not allow. He talked about what he was going to say to his boss for at least an hour before he called him. On the phone, he agreed that perhaps the next weekend he could have some time off. As soon as he got off of the phone, he started to talk about how he was just going to call in sick - and take the extra day. He just could not confront his boss.

I have been through a number of weigh scales with other drivers. It has never been a big deal, but this time at both of the stops, he asked me to hide in the back as he did not want the officials to assume that I was a driver too and that if I had no log to show them - there could be trouble. We went through both scales with no issues. I do not like being sneaky.

We stopped for breakfast/lunch somewhere - I bought it for him. It was a nice break and I needed the food. He drove me to somewhere in Vancouver, I got out, he dropped the truck off and 15 minutes later came back and got me. He drove me to the nearest Skytrain station. I was in Vancouver, perhaps a day later than I had planned - but I was there and this time, the ocean was in sight.