2019 On The Road Again #16

I had decided that I would get to the Island via the Duke Point terminal. The terminal is just a bit south of Nanaimo and I thought it would be easier than going to Departure Bay which is in downtown Nanaimo. That terminal is a long from the highway and I have never been able to figure out how to use the Nanaimo transit system effectively. Duke Point just seemed to be a better option.

I am fairly familiar with Vancouver's transit system - or at least I thought I was. I had never been to the station where I was let off and I was a bit confused. I had to make a call on the transit systems helpline to know what bus to take. I did eventually find the right bus, got detailed and complicated instructions from the bus driver and a young man standing beside him, found the right Skytrain, and then the right bus to Tsawwassen terminal. It felt like it took a long time to get to the terminal.

In my fantasy life, I hoped that someone on the ferry would see my sign "Duncan" perched on top of my pack and offer a ride. That did not happen. My second fantasy was that I would get off of the ferry quickly and catch the cars as they were leaving the ferry - that did not happen either. The cars on the ferry were long gone by the time I could walk to the point where I could see the cars. However, I was quite sure that it was not that far to walk to the Trans-Canada. I was wrong about that too. It is about six kilometres and it is all uphill. Not all of it was a steep climb, but it was all uphill. It was hot, I was tired, my foot hurt and I was done. I just wanted to get home.

Shortly after I started walking, a young man with a skateboard approached me....he said to me " I can't believe that we got here at the same time...actually as I got off first if we were racing, I would have won". I did not recognize him, but apparently, it was the young man I had met at the Flying J outside of Winnipeg. He kept pace with me for a bit, every time a car would go by I would stick my thumb out but there seemed little chance that anyone would stop - there seemed even less chance that anyone would stop and pick up two of us. I finally suggested that I needed to hitch alone - he said that he had been thinking the same thing and skateboarded ahead of me. I think he thought that he was keeping me company.

It was an interesting walk. I had no idea that there was a bit of an industrial park in the area. It was surprisingly busy with workers coming and going. None offered a ride. Finally, I got to the highway. The long walk had consumed any of the daylight, it was now just a few minutes into dusk and I knew that the possibility of getting a ride was limited. My daughter-in-law had texted me offering a ride. I accepted.

I slept at home in my own bed, and the next morning I got up had a shower and some brown rice for breakfast. It was good to be home.

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.

2019 On The Road Again #14

I had not been at my spot just outside of Golden very long when a car stopped and I was offered a ride to Revelstoke. I knew it was going to be my last ride of the day and while I would have loved a ride right through to the coast, my clothing was at the very least damp, I was tired, hungry and perhaps just a little bit grumpy. It had not been a great day.

My driver lived in Revelstoke but had spent the day working in Calgary. I could have slept in, had a leisurely breakfast and met him on the road just as he was leaving. I could have stayed dry and warm all day. Maybe I should develop a web site that allows hitchhikers to know when drivers are leaving. Although I suspect that that would not work as so many of my drivers make the decision to stop on impulse. Most of them do not plan to have a passenger. I know they do not plan for it as so many need to move stuff off of their front seats before I get in.

My driver was an architect from Britain who had moved to the area, meet someone, gotten married and now had kids. He was a bit of a specialist in terms of designing homes. He was quite competent to design rooms inside a condo, but his passion was creating passive homes - that is homes that were so ultra insulated and so well designed that the amount of energy required to heat them was almost negligible. He jokingly said that all that they needed was a hair dryer. That was a bit of an understatement but a small baseboard heater can easily heat a regular size passive home.

It was my third such discussion on this trip about building, about silly by-law rules and inspectors who are unable to think outside the box. It was an interesting conversation as he made the argument that while such a house is more expensive (marginally) to build, the saving in terms of energy are such that the extra costs are relatively quickly gained back. We talked of builders who resisted new technologies, purchasers who could not see the future benefits and banks, some of who were reluctant to provide mortgages on homes that were smaller, but more expensive than the norm. He talked about the house that he was building for his family and some of the issues that they were facing as they tried to build a house for their needs and their perception of what the future might bring to them and their community.

We also had a fascinating discussion about altruism. We wondered if there was such a thing, or rather if one felt good about helping someone or volunteering - was it really an altruistic act? If we get something out of the act of giving - can it be a noble act. I don't remember how we got onto this topic. I suspect we were two reasonable bright guys who got some joy from thinking about strange, philosophical questions. All too often, people like us - do not get the chance to ever have that sort of conversation. Like so many of the conversations that I have on the road, it ended without any answers. But then I don't think we were really expecting to find one

As we got close to Revelstoke I mentioned that I was not sure where I was going to sleep. I generally do not sleep inside twice when I travelling, but I was wet and tired. My clothes and I suspected my sleeping bag was if not wet - at least very damp. My driver got on his cell phone and found a cheap motel that still had room and that was close to the highway. He said that if he had had a room I could have stayed at their place which was a generous thought.

He let me out at the motel. I registered, took off my wet shoes, put on my sandals and went out to find a restaurant. Everything other than Tim Horton's was closed, so I had a grill cheese sandwich and a big chocolate cookie. Not the meal I was hoping for.

I walked back to my room, used the hair dryer to dry my socks, hung up my shirt and pants so that they could dry a bit and fell into bed. I was asleep in minutes. It had not been my best day ever. On the other hand, I had gone from Calgary to Revelstoke and the ocean was almost in sight.

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.

2019 On The Road Again #12

My next ride was a driver who was from Ontario, but who had flown into Calgary - rented a car and was off to Canmore to do some rock climbing. We both agreed that he had picked a really poor day to start his holidays especially as he was planning to camp that night.

Calgary to Canmore is not very far but we managed to squeeze a fair amount of information into that short distance. My driver was a high school teacher, was married with, I think, one young child and took off a week every year to go west for some "me" time to recharge his emotional batteries. He was an experienced climber who had grown up with the sport as his father had been a professional climber.

I am constantly struck by the passion for life so many of my drivers have. Like this driver, so many of my drivers seem far more together than I was at their age. I am always surprised that so many are able to articulate what their life could be and should be. They all seem prepared to work towards those dreams. I think this particular driver would be a great teacher. In our brief conversation, it felt as if he was just not empathetic around his students and the complexities of their lives but that he truly enjoyed teaching them.

When I initially opened the door to get into his car, I suggested that as my pack was a bit damp (which was a blatant lie - it was soaked) he said his trunk was full of ropes and climbing gear. He did not mind me putting my wet stuff on the back seat or me getting his front seat wet - the car was a rental. I have wondered since if he would have picked me up if it had been his own car - I like to think so.

I was let out at the last exit to Canmore - under the underpass. I thought it would be a better spot to stand given that it was raining as hard as ever.

Underpasses are noises places - the sounds of the vehicles bounce off of the hard cement walls. The sound of motors racing and tires hissing in the rain is much more obvious when in an underpass than just being out on the open road. It was drier inside - while l I still was getting splashed by both the big trucks and smaller cars I was not getting rained on. Unfortunately, it felt colder perhaps because of the wind the roared through the underpass. I was cold. I was starting to shiver almost none stop. I was starting to get a bit worried about developing hyperthermia. Fortunately, after being there for about an hour a small SUV stopped and I was more than happy to get it.

The driver and his passenger were from the San Francisco area. The driver had, in the past year or so, started to develop a passion for nature. His desire to be in nature, to observe it, to learn from it seemed almost mystical when he talked about it. It was a new sensation for this city dweller and he had some difficulty finding the words to explain it. He was also. I think, a little bit concerned as to whether it was normal to want to experience nature. I assured him that he was
completely normal. The distance from Canmore to Banff is not very far and soon I was out on the road again. It is relevant to note that this car too, was a rental. So for this day, I had gotten rides from either a rancher driving his farm vehicle or two seperate people driving a rental vehicle. Clearly looking like a drowned rat was limiting my options.