On the Road Again 2011 - Blog 20

Most kitchens provide food for the main circle. They cook the dish – rice- lentils beans etc and carry it down to the main area where people gather for the main meal. They are generally supplied by main supply that purchases food from money raised through donations or the Magic Hat. Other kitchens, specifically the one at Kiddie’s Village are supported by the Gathering but only provide food for people who are located in that general area. Mostly this is families. Anyone can eat there, but as kids and families get to eat first, there is not much left over others. Instant Soup is relatively unique as a kitchen. It does not provide food for anyone else other than those who live or will walk to the kitchen. When it is fully operational it is also the only kitchen that tries to provide food at least 20 hours a day. One can get freshly made soup at 2:00 in the morning. It is also unique in that for the first week or so, most of the food comes through donation, directly to the kitchen. It was not until the beginning of July that we were able to get food from main supply.

The soup base is made from large packages of vegan instant soup that are donated to the kitchen. It is great stuff, rich tasty and filling. Later in the Gathering soups were made from scratch with all sorts of vegetables spices etc. People come to this kitchen just to cook.  I met two men who worked in kitchens in their other lives. They were a joy to watch as they made soup stocks and combined ingredients that I would never have thought of.  Some people just made one or two soups and left. They probably had not planned on cooking but when they after eating, asked what they could do to help they were quickly were pointed to what vegetables were available and told that they should feel free to cut them up. When they asked what kind of soup was being made the answer frequently was “what kind of soup do you feel like making?”  I never felt stuffed, as if I had eaten a bit too much, but I was never hungry. Eating nourishing soup four times a day is a pretty healthy way of living

I didn’t cook much. I helped set up the kitchen, making things like pot hooks to hang up the utensil, helped to finish building the wash stand for dishes  and occasionally kept the fire going. I didn’t do much collecting of firewood. That is a young man’s game. Just one time I did some log splitting. Just enough to shame some younger folks into doing it. I think they felt sorry for the old man having to do it. I did get to share some tricks on how to split wood efficiently.

There are two remarkable things about living and working at Instant Soup that make it different from other kitchens. One is that there is virtually no drumming. Drumming for many people is almost synonymous with a Gathering. I love the drums, but they can dominate a fire, preventing conversation or singing. At Instant Soup the focus is on good conversation, wonderful debates and some gentle singing. Not all of the time, but enough to stimulate both the mind and the soul. Instant Soup is remarkable as well because of an individual call “Rich in Spirit”. He is a 70 year old man who lives in Florida and has been coming to the National for years. Rich does not cook, nor does he often carry firewood, he is just there; sometime playing his guitar and singing, chatting with friends and just somehow providing a tone and a direction to the kitchen. It is Rich who every year helps ensure that the kitchen with its big pots, large tarps and other assorted equipment gets to the Gathering. He doesn’t travel with it, he just makes sure that someone else does. Rich is a gentle man, and the kitchen that he created reflects that gentleness.

On the Road Again 2011 - Blog 19

I know this whole process of writing down what happened this summer must seem pretty easy.  But it is not. I am so far behind schedule that it is difficult to get enthusiastic about the process. I am now writing about things that happened in June. It is not that I can't remember what happened; it is just that I am less sure of the relevance than I once was.

But then every once in a while someone will ask me a question and I realize that at least a few people read what I write. So time to move on with telling the story.

The Gathering was huge....some say that there were at least 30,000 people there. I do not know how people can guess that. I suppose counting cars and guessing, after years of experience, how many were in each car would create a rough estimate. But regardless of the actual number there were a lot of people there. But except for one day, we were never all in the same place and therefore it usually does not seem as if there are many people around.

The Gathering is comprised of numerous small groups of people. Some have come from the same geographic area or perhaps state and have always camped with each other. Others, regardless of where they are from always hang out with the same people and purposely find where that kitchen or group is located. And there are some who gravitate towards those areas where likeminded people such as practioners of Yoga, followers of Christ or street kids hang out. However I think the majority of people and certainly most of the people who are new to the Rainbow probably just end up camping in a spot that feels good to them.

There is certainly an area for everyone, but sometimes it takes work to find it. Certainly in the early days of any Gathering, it is hard to find people who know where the various groups or kitchens are. It is not until the 1st or 2nd of July that an accurate map starts to emerge. It was, for me, a long walk to get to where I wanted to be.

I asked almost everyone I saw – “do you know where Instant Soup is?” On more than once occasion I got diametrically opposite answers. But that kitchen seems to almost always be located away from the main areas so I kept on walking through lovely meadows, across small streams via somewhat dangerous bridges constructed of two logs (my balance at the best of times is somewhat suspect – carrying a full pack across some of these bridges was more than a bit hair raising – others of course just danced across them) and along the edges of swamps. It was an interesting few hours walk with lots of “welcome home” being shouted out and more than a few conversations. I saw lots of possible places to pitch a tent and met some people that would have perhaps been fun to get to know. But I knew where I wanted to go and eventually I got there.

While there is always a special feeling about getting to a Gathering, for me I know I am at home when I get to the kitchen that has a pot of soup on the fire, a fire pit for conversation and singing and a relaxed gentle air about it.

On the Road Again 2011 - Blog 16

It is always, at least for me, a strange feeling to cross into the USA. The border people ask questions, that while they are not unreasonably invasive,are asked in a manner that is both rude and aggressive. They also frequently manage to do so in a way that suggest that they are immeasurably bored by the whole process.

Travel within the Gulf Islands can be complicated both in terms of making the various ferries as there appears to be little attempt to coordinate their schedules and the various terminals are not always located near each other. For example we needed to make a specific ferry that left Fulford Harbour on Salt Spring to go to Victoria on Vancouver Island. We then needed to drive 20 minutes to Sidney to catch the ferry to Andacortes north of Seattle.

It was in Sidney BC that we had our little chat with the Canadian and American custom people. We had rehearsed the answer to the question (which would have been a valid question for anyone who knew where we were going to ask) " why didn't you go directly to Vancouver from Salt Spring?" It would have been both faster and it would have been cheaper. There were two answers...one was that Sally for good reasons, has a firm belief that people who go to Gatherings have an increased risk of being harassed by the border people. If we took a more indirect route with a destination other than the Gathering, or harassment potential would be reduced. The other reason for taking the two ferries was that we were not going directly to the Gathering.

Somehow everyone in the van except for me, knew that we were not going directly to the southern part of Washington State. Sally has a former worker and a good friend who now lives on Orcas Island. She had arranged to visit her for two nights. So we got off at Friday Harbour, meet Sally's friend and had a very nice meal in a Chinese restaurant. The town of Friday Harbour was busy and quite alive with music, places to eat and lots of tourists.

After supper we got onto another ferry and went to Orcas Island and then to the house. It was an interesting house, or at least how it got built was interesting. There were six houses on a crescent, all of which looked similar. The couple had joined some sort of a co-operative. All of the families had bought the land and had signed agreements as to how they would build and perhaps more importantly when they would be finished. There was a not-for-profit housing agency that assisted them in all phases of the building including what materials to use,  and where to get them. The agency also, I think, assisted with some of the financing. The families built their homes with the assistance of professionals (e.g. electricians) - they helped each other out and  in the process became good friends. They are now officially a condo board so they will stay connected forever. It is a good system. While the houses were a bit too uniform for my taste, they were individually brightly painted. The lot sizes were good, and the interiors were all different. People who could never have afforded to buy a house, now can. And they did it themselves. There should be more such opportunities.

On the Saturday we went to the local market. It was a highly localized affair with all of the vendors and most of the customers all knowing each other. The crafts were great and generally very reasonably priced. The fresh food looked absolutely wonderful. Later we went to the local pioneer museum where we had a guided tour. Very interesting.

As nice as the house was, and as great as the island was, after a day, I was ready to leave.                           

On the Road Again 2011 - Blog 18

I was excited. Finally after a couple years I was going to another Gathering. The last time I had gone to a National, it was to do research for my thesis. I had promised to provide some feedback. Now I would be able to do it.  It is a special feeling to be going home after a few years.

The next morning I was up bright and early -in fact I was ready to go by just after 7:30. I should have known better. Sally is not a morning person. Her morning routines are complex and I suspect tiring and hard on her and her helpers.. We had agreed the previous night that we were going to have an early start. I believed them. The others were not breakfast people, so I went alone to eat while they were assisting Sally. The little restaurant attached the the campground/ motel only had one employee. She both took our orders and, cook the breakfast and served the meal. Perhaps that is why they used paper plates and plastic utensils- so the she did have to do the dishes as well. The breakfast was good and as the restaurant was a local hangout, I got to observe some old guys sit around and gossip.

There are, I am sure, thousands if not millions of similar places across North America. Perhaps such places exist in every corner of the world. I don't know because I have not visited every corner, but I have eaten breakfast in small restaurants from Newfoundland to West Virginia to Salt Spring Island. And in all of them, older men gathered for coffee before they start their day. Sometimes the group is comprised of mainly retirees, other times the group appears to me a mixture of older guys who are still working and those who are not. The working men are first to leave knowing, I am sure, that they are going to be talked about as soon as they leave. The men meet because they are good friends and because they share so many common cultural values. Within some groups younger men do, on occasion, attend but it frequently seems to me that they have a lesser status.

By the time I finished my breakfast (which included  eavesdropping on the conversation until the old guys had left) I sort of hoped that we would be nearly ready to get the van packed. Of course they  were not ready and they had decided to have breakfast. I spent the time pacing around the van. It was almost 12:00 before we pulled out of the driveway.

The drive to the main gate of the Gathering was spectacular. Unlike some other Gatherings I have been to, it was easy to find and the roads were great. No logging roads, or long stretches of a dirt road with stones as sharp as knives - for almost all of the way, it was well paved with no cracks or pot holes. Of course it was going into a National Forest and our roads into Algonquin or Banff National parks are just as good. But what made the road so spectacular was the view of St. Helen's. One could easily see where literally the mountain " blew it's top". It is completely flat on the top. Quite amazing.

When we got to where people had started to park their cars, we just kept on going on the assumption that (1) that the wheelchair would be our pass to parking as close to the trail head as possible and (2) that the people managing the parking would know Sally. I was right on both accounts. We got as close anyone got because of the chair and people we waiting and ready to help unpack the car.

It was so much easier than the last time Sally and I travelled to a Gathering. This time it was only about a 20 minute walk along a relatively level dirt road from where we left the van until we got to where Sally would likely stay. Once the van was unpacked and I knew approximately where Sally was going to be, I kept going trying to get to "my kitchen", the kitchen I am most comfortable with, the kitchen I did my research at.  It is called Instant Soup.

On the Road Again 2011 - Blog 17

Finally we were on our way to the Gathering.

But it was such slow travelling. Part of the reason for the trip feeling as if it was taking forever taking was that Sally needs a fair amount of time to get ready in the morning. But the other part of the problem was that her workers did not feel the same sense of urgency that I did. I wanted to get to the Gathering. I knew that in spite of all the comments on the various web sites about relatively easy access, there was no guarantee that it would be easy. I did not want to get there in the dark. And while there had been no comments on the web about police harassment, I knew that there such harassment was always possible to occur at any moment especially during the set up phase. To get caught up in an incident, especially if it was getting dark would have been a nightmare. I, of course, am a bit of a worrier. I need not have bothered. Nothing I could have said would have made the young workers hurry. So we spent almost an hour in Anacortes after getting of the ferry shopping for stuff like organic fruit, toilet paper and clothespins. All stuff that could have been bought the day before. Wandering around an strange town looking for stores is not a good use of a traveller's time.

The traffic down the interstate even when we were bypassing Seattle was never that bad. Two of the workers had been down this road before and so there was little confusion as to where we were going. Three or four hours later we were off on to the secondary highway. Once again we were obligated to stop to buy food. Another 45 minutes wasted. It was hard to just sit there and not say something. But it wasn't my car and I was not driving, so I kept my mouth shut. For most of the time while the others were out shopping, I stayed with Sally, and that is always a pleasure.

Just outside the town of Cougar, Washington, we decided that we needed to stop for the night.It was too late for us to get to the Gathering. If we had not wasted those few hours shopping, we could have perhaps made it. But we didn't and in hindsight perhaps it worked out for the best.

The place that we chose (it was in fact the only choice) was great. There were a number of cabins and lots of spaces for tents and RVs. There was a small swimming pool and an equally small restaurant. And perhaps most importantly, it was cheap. For $100.00 we got a room that had a bunk bed, a single and a queen size bed. The two young female workers slept in the queen, Sally in the single, I and Sally's male worker used the bunk bed. It was a good good deal, the cabin was interestingly furnished and the owners were very nice.

There were a lot of families at the campsite. Some of them had come for a family reunion and were staying a few extra days, other groups were there because this was where people registered to climb Mount St. Helen's. There was a nice,peaceful feeling to this place. It was a good place for a shower and a good night's sleep before getting lost in that special place called the National Gathering.

On the Road 2011 #15

It was, of course, great to be in my second home. It was nice to be able to open up my box that I had mailed to myself and to have a wider range of clothing to wear. It was great to have a bed to sleep in, and even better it was quite wonderful to know where I was going to sleep that night. There was of course the immeasurable bonus of being able to hang out with my son, daughter-in-law and grandson. But there were times during those first few days of being in Duncan that I felt something was missing. I had in fact had this feeling ever since I had gotten on the ferry at Horseshoe Bay. For awhile I could not figure out what it was and then I realized - I was missing my adventure!

I was grateful for the rides and would not have wanted to change a single part of my trip. Everything had gone so smoothly. It could not have been better organized if I had hired a tour guide to arrange the rides. I had made it across the western half of Canada in what I thought was record time. No one I have spoken to has hitchhiked that distance any where near as fast. Most have never heard of anyone coming close. So I felt pretty good about my luck. BUT nothing exciting had happened. Now I want to be clear (in case the Hitchhiking Gods are reading this), if I had a choice between really good rides (if a bit boring) with no waiting between, or wonderful exciting rides with day long waits in between - I think I would chose the former. Although if I was allowed to be picky something in the middle would be nice.

All of that says that either I am getting old and my sense of adventure is less,or perhaps now that I have a clear destination in mind, the old saying about it is not the destination that matters, it is the journey....perhaps is no longer true for me. If the latter is the case - I feel bit sad. Sad because I will still be wanting the adventure, but not be prepared to do the work.

Non-the-less I was more than prepared to relax and enjoy my family. And I did for a few days. But I had plans to make and places I wanted to do to. One of the reasons that I had left so early from Ontario was that I wanted to go to the Rainbow Family's National Gathering in Washington (USA). I didn't know how I was going to get there and so spent some time looking at bus and train schedules. Just before I had left Peterborough I had talked to my friend Sally on Salt Spring about finding someone who was going and who had room for both her workers and all of her stuff (Sally was injured in a bicycle accident some years ago and is now a quadriplegic). It seemed unlikely that such a vehicle would appear. When called her from my son's four days before she wanted to leave, there was no van.

I went to Salt Spring Island on a Wednesday in part to tell her that I had decided to go down by bus or train. Just ten minutes before I had gotten there, someone had offered her a van for the trip. There was going to be room for me. Things always work in mysterious ways around Sally and her household. I stayed for supper, slept on the floor and the next morning took the first ferry back to Vancouver Island. I packed up my camping gear, gave the folks a quick hug good bye and I was back on Salt Spring Island in time for supper. (This was Thursday in case you are confused about timing)

When the van was delivered it was filthy. We had to work to hard to clean it but by just after noon on Friday we were off for the first set of ferries that would get us to the State of Washington. In the van there was of course Sally in the front seat, one of her workers driving and three of us in the back. Which sounds as if there would be a lot of room. But Sally does not travel light, not only was there the wheel chair and her bedding (encased in a tarp) tied to the roof but inside there were three drums, a guitar, a mandolin, a wok to cook popcorn with, glass jars to carry the popcorn and assorted packs for clothing and other stuff. It was perhaps not surprisingly, crowded in there. What made things a bit more complicated was that the back door didn't open at all and the two side doors had child locks that could not be released from the inside and therefore those of us in the back had to wait to be let out. But were off to a Gathering and that was all that mattered. According to the map, it was only 9 hours drive away. How long could it take?

On the Road Blog #14

The Sky-Train and bus connections to the ferry terminal at Horseshoe Bay were easy to manage and I only need to ask for directions once. I was pretty please with myself when I got to the terminal to find out that the next ferry would be leaving in about 30 minutes. At this rate I was going to be in Duncan well before noon. Silly me. I should have known that things could not continue to go as smoothly as they had in the past few days.

I do not know Nanaimo well. In fact I barely know it all. Last year I had spent an evening there waiting for an early morning ferry to Horseshoe Bay heading home via Whistler. As I usually do when I am in new city, I had spent a few hours walking around the town. I thought that I had gotten a sense of how the city was laid out. I was wrong.

After getting off the ferry I could have, I should have, taken the city bus that was waiting outside the ferry terminal. It would have probably got me to the Greyhound bus station in good time. I could have then had a nice quiet inner-city bus ride to Duncan and then with a ten minute walk, been at my son's home in short order with no fuss or a large expenditure of energy. But I did not do that, instead I decided without much thought and with the sure assumption that as my hitching had been so good, it would continue to be good, to hitch to Duncan.

As I have said, it was not a well thought out plan. I ended up walking for a long way through the city and I was never too sure where I was. There were a couple of streets that looked as if they could head towards the highway but they were all steeply uphill so I kept on walking. At one point an older man in a power wheelchair started to follow me, yelling abuses at me, accusing me of not working and being a bum. His comments were quite harsh and somewhat bothersome. I didn't bother to stop and talk to him. While I was curious as to know what had got him going, I was not curious enough to be exposed to any more of his foul abusive language. It all seemed so irrational that I did not think that a dialogue would do much good. It is the first time in all of my travels that I have been confronted this way. Occasionally drivers somewhere along the Trans-Canada will yell something out, but never have I been exposed to something so personally directed.It was unnerving and unsettling.

Eventually I got to the outskirts of the city and there was a spot that looked like great spot to stand both in terms of how wide the shoulder was and visibility. Unfortunately there was a person standing there already. So I had to walk bit further down the road to another spot that was not quite as good. There were lots of cars but none of them stopped. I was there for about 45 minutes before the other hitchhiker got a ride. I walked back down the road to his spot and stuck out my thumb. It was another 20 or so minutes before a car stopped for me.

My new driver said that he was in a rush as he had to make the ferry to Vancouver. Because I had just left one ferry terminal, I made the assumption that he was going to the terminal in Victoria. How many ferry terminals could there be? It turns out that there are more than I thought. He drove me down the road, onto the highway (who knew that the pleasant little country road turned into a major four lane divided highway?) And then six or seven minutes later, he turned off heading towards the other terminal. I got out, a bit confused, thanked him, and he took off. I was now standing at the worst imaginable spot to hitch. The traffic was zipping by at a 100+ kilometers an hour, there were merging lines of traffic and I knew that there was no hitchhiking allowed along this section. (actually hitchhiking is not illegal, stopping to pick up someone is) But I had no choice. So I stuck out my thumb.

Twenty or so minutes later I did get a ride. Just a short one but at least it was to a slightly safer spot. At some point during my wait, my cell phone rang. I never leave my cell phone on so I was more than bit surprised. It took me a few minutes to recognize what the noise was and then find it. It was my daughter-in-law wondering where I was. I had called from the ferry to tell her that I was going to be there soon. She assumed that I should have been in by now. She was right, I should have been. However I did not accept her offer to come and get me. Silly pride. It took two more short rides before I got to Duncan. It had taken me longer, in terms of standing on the road to get from Nanaimo to Duncan than it had to go from Winnipeg to Vancouver. So much for the theory that it is easier to get rides on the west coast than any where else in Canada.

But I was where I wanted to be - at home in Duncan. Two and half days to get from Winnipeg was still a good traveling time. It was almost exactly how long it had taken me last year going back to Winnipeg. Things were feeling pretty good.