On the Road Again 2012 Rainbow Gathering part #1

On the last week of July, I headed north to Lake Nimpkish at the Northern End of Vancouver Island for a Rainbow Gathering ( for more information of these Gatherings click on "My Academic Musings" to the right of blog). My plan was to take the bus to Sayward and hitched/walked the rest of the way.

I had forgotten how much I disliked buses. I was quickly reminded as soon as I handed my ticket to the bus driver in Duncan at 8:35. His first and only comment to me was " I hate people who put tickets in their mouth". I understand that that must be one of the hazards of his job but on the other hand he did nothing to assist me in (1) holding the ticket as I tried to get the rather heavy pack into the storage department under the bus (2) make sure my hat did not fall off and (3) maintain control of my small canvas shoulder pack that held a book to read, my mp3 player and large water bottle.


My impression of buses worsened as I sat down at an empty seat and realized that either they either had made the distance between seat smaller or the femurs in both my legs had gotten longer. On previous trips I don't remember my knees being so tightly jammed against seat in front of me. There was an hour or so wait for a bus connection at Nanaimo before the bus continues on to Sayward (225 miles north). Waiting in bus stations is generally not fun.  The bus station in Nanaimo was no exception. It was in fact, painfully boring and ugly. But our new bus driver was a very pleasant surprise.

He was a delight. He introduced himself over the PA system with flair and humour. He was both courteous to and slightly flirtatious towards the older woman who sat down in the front seat just across from him. He seemed well known to a few of the bus travellers and there was a lot of gentle teasing with him about getting lost. However in spite of him being a really nice driver, the trip took forever.The hour stop in Campbell River did not help. I suppose it is obvious why bus stations are not located in the most interesting parts of dow, but if  the were, it would make the travellers a lot happier.

I had asked the bus driver to let me off at the highway gas station just outside of Sayward. As the driver helped me unload my pack I thanked him for his courteous service and mentioned that it was obvious that he like his job. Then I shook his hand. Never done that before - but I felt the urge to do so. I am glad that I did. I had chosen the place to get off the bus well. It was a good location. My original intention was to just stay there until a Family member came by and picked me up. There was a bathroom and some water at the gas station and I was sure I could get something to eat as well. I had only had a small breakfast of two boiled eggs and I knew I would be getting hungry at some point.

I was quite sure as the seed camp had been going for a few days that there would be lots of people heading to the Gathering. I really should learn not to assume.

An SUV stopped and the driver offered me a ride. He knew exactly where the turn off was that I needed so it made so sense to get into his vehicle. It was a great ride. He was a member of a First Nations community in/at Alert Bay which is a small island just a bit north of Vancouver Island. He was so proud of his community's medical and educational services that the band council had created that it was a delight to travel with him. While he had been an engineer on a fishing trawler for a number of  years, he had hurt his knees and now worked for the federal government doing audits ( I think) for various band councils. He had been on his band council before and he talked about that when the present chief decided not to run again, that perhaps he would. Clearly a man with a vision of what his community could be. He understood that for a community to flourish it needed to educate its members ( he had gone to university after his knee problems), to plan carefully for the future, and to utilize all of the resources that are at hand.

My driver also talked about how some First Nation's families in the area manipulated the various types of commercial fishing licenses, and how unfair it had been for the people who worked on those big boats.

More disturbing was his brief mention of a taxi driver who, in some city, said to my driver on the way in from the airport..."residential schools were the best thing that ever happen to you people". How does one apologize to someone for that kind of comment? What could I possible say that made it clear I did not feel that way and that that statement was plain and simply - outrageous. I became even more frustrated at the stupidity of my fellow Canadians when my driver was talking about some sort of pre-treaty negotiation meeting between a representative from the Canadian government and a local band council. At one point as the Chief was perhaps waxing a bit too poetically about tradition land use, the representative felt the need to remind the chief that as the land all belonged to the Queen and thereby implying that they should be happy for what they get. What can one say? I suppose the government needs to hire a certain number of socially challenged/ignorant individuals just to keep them off the streets.

I was sorry when we had to separate when we came to the turn-off to Zeballos.He was continuing further north and I was heading onto the logging roads.

Where I was let off was not a very pretty site. The leaves of the trees were covered in dust from the big logging trucks. What few vehicles that did go by were were either working trucks or SUVs with kayaks on them. Neither group of vehicles were likely to stop. So I thought I would walk some more. There were two flaws in this plan. One was that I did not have enough water with me as I had neglected to refill my water bottle at Sayward and two it was a bloody long walk.

No vehicle until the last 500 or so meters of my 7-9 kilometers of my trek, even slowed down to look at me. Not that there were that many vehicles - perhaps 6 or 7. For the last 3-4 kilometers I saw nothing except for the two bears that ran across the road in front of me.They were not very big and I was quite sure (or at least almost sure) that they were more afraid of me than I of them. I was exhausted. My pack weighed (at an estimate) somewhere around 45 pounds.Considering that that is a bit more than the 1/5 of my body weight that is recommended, it was a taxing weight to have on my back. ( my son who lifted the pack upon my return suggested the pack weighted closer to 70 pounds. I think he was over-estimating the weight a bit - but then he does on occasion life 80 pound bags of cement so he should know) The gravel road did not travel in a straight line. As well it frequently felt that for every foot one walked down an incline, one climbed another foot and a half up the next hill. There were a lot of hills! By the time dusk was approaching I was thirsty, tired and more than a little bit concerned about the real or imaginary noises I could hear in the woods on either side of me. (it really doesn't matter if the noises are imaginary - if you think you hear something - it is pretty real). When I went around another corner and saw yet another long hill I decided that I could not go any further, I yelled a few times just in case there were campers near but got no response. I hoisted my bag on to a large slash pile left over from the clear cut logging, climbed up and waited for morning. I was tired enough that I could sort of nod off. Fortunately the mosquitoes decided to make it their mission to keep me awake. I say fortunately as about 10:30 pm a car came up the road, stopped and drove me the last half kilometer to the trail head. We got to this rather barren spot in the middle of a clear cut, put up our tents beside two other tents that were spending the night there and I quickly fell asleep. Grateful to be beside some others for the night.

I was also grateful that I would be at the Gathering early tomorrow morning. Remember what I said about I should not assume anything...............

On the Road Again 2012 intermission

Off to a Rainbow Gathering way up island...back in 10 days

On the Road Again 2012 #12

I went looking for the cheapest looking motel and I found it. It was of an old "pan-a-bode" ( pre-fab log building) design that had clearly had seen better days. It was dwarfed by the more modern looking and larger motels around it. But the name got my attention..... "Sweet Dreams Motel". Who could resist staying in a place that had such a charming name?

It was almost 9:30 and in spite of the fact that the sign said that the office was open until 11:00 there was no immediate response to the door bell. In fact I was about to turn away when I saw, through the office door window an older women wrapped in a bathrobe approaching the door. For a moment I thought that perhaps the building had been turned into a residence and I had awoken a permanent resident. I apologize for disturbing her but her response was somewhat reassuring " Its O.K., that is what I am here for.

There were still some rooms available for $66.00 (tax included) a night. I was delighted by the price. She was not very empathetic about my slow rate of travel. When I mentioned that I was hitchhiking to Yellowknife she suggested that I was either travelling in the wrong direction or at the wrong time as many northerners were be heading towards urban areas (south) for the long weekend. But she had a friendly smile and it was fun to trade quips with here. I don't think she knew how to give a straight answer. When she gave me my room key, I asked her where it was. She just said "go out the door and follow the number until you find it"! She was fun. When I had mentioned that I had decided to stay for the night in part because of the storm that was approaching - she said " it has been threatening to rain for days, it won't rain tonight" She was right.

The building looked run down. What ever colour the milled, fabricated logs had been - they were now a dirty brown. There was at least one vehicle that I saw  that looked abandoned. Its back end was jacked up and the tires and rims were off. It had last year's plates on it. Inside it was equally as interesting. Rather dark and while everything was clean, it all certainly looked like it had been used before.But the bathroom was fine (if noisy as the family next door could be heard quite clearly), either of the two beds were comfortable and the curtains were double lined so that very light could get through them.

 I put on my sandals and went to find a restaurant. There was attached to the hotel next door and as it looked almost empty I was worried that I would missed another meal. But the young waitress was friendly and welcoming. The menu was less so. The only thing on it that I could eat was a stir fry with no meat. That may sound awkward or poorly phrased but I had order a stir fry with no meat. It was surprisingly good.

I went for a brief walk after supper and then went to bed. Tired for no particular reason, but tired none-the-less

On the Road Again 2012 #11

According to Wikipedia High Level is about 450 kilometers north of Edmonton and 725 km south of Yellowknife. I certainly had not travelled very far in the two days since leaving Susan outside of Edmonton. High Level appeared to have a high percentage of First Nations residents or at least it felt as if First Nations individuals were driving the majority of cars and trucks that passed me. The other thing that I noticed was that in High Level there seemed to be an inordinate number of motels/hotels. If my memory is right, there were at least ten of them. Some of them were fairly big and belonged to national chains. Others were quite clearly local only operations. I wasn't planning on staying in this town but it was good to know that there were options. So many motels suggested that there was some sort of oil exploration going on or that this was one hell of a tourist hot spot.

The spot I chose to stand at the edge of High Level looked to be a lovely spot. Nice wide shoulder, cars still going slow, and great sight lines. Folks if they wanted to do, could have seen me from almost the other edge of town. High Level did  not appear to be a large town but then one can never tell what houses or streets lie just behind the highway. For all I knew there could have been a medium size city just west of the town. There was certainly a lot of traffic around me. Just to my left there was a large Best Western Hotel that had a swimming pool. The pool was open to the public. There were streams of cars and trucks full of kids driving into the parking lot for a swim while young teenagers casually strolled across the highway heading towards the pool. All but the youngest children ignored me, most almost making a point of looking the other way.  The young ones just pointed at me and asked their mothers questions. I don't know what they were told but I am quite sure that at least some of the adults had not seen a hitchhiker very often.

It was now close to 9:00 pm and the sun was still visible. However it was so low in the sky that my broad brimmed hat no longer provided much protection. Consequently my nose got rather badly burnt and so did the side of my neck just under my ears. While it was not the first time that my nose got burnt I can't remember ever having a sunburn on that part of my neck.

After being at that spot for some time I noticed a reasonably large dirt bike roaring out of an ally on the other side of the road, then tearing across the highway 20 feet north of me and finally disappearing into the woods. Seconds later a four wheel drive police truck tore out of the same alley and chased after the motorcyclist. I was never sure if the police caught the guy or not but twenty minutes a tow truck came and carted of the guy's bike. While the whole incident was somewhat interesting to watch it did cause me some concern as I thought about having to sleep out that night. Right where the motorbike turned into the woods was where I sort of had thought about sleeping for the night. The other thing that I noticed was a conservation authority truck driving around with looked like a bison (buffalo) head in it. I would have liked to have had a closer look at it and even more I would have loved to talk to the female conservation officer as to why the head was in the back of her truck.

Off the the south west the sky was black with clouds. I could see where, in the distance, there was a torrential downpour . Then the thunder and lightening started. Again it was fairly far away, but the wind was blowing the clouds towards me. I decided to call it a night and to look for a cheap motel. In spite of only travelling about 200-250 kilometers that day but it looked like I was done for the day. The oncoming rain, the bears and a potential police investigation were all factors in me deciding to find a bed for the night. I also had not eaten a real meal since the grilled cheese and fries in North Battleford two days before and thought perhaps I should.

On the Road Again 2012 # 10

There were times this trip I thought about calling the trip "death by a 1,000 rides" (as opposed to On the Road Again"). I really do love meeting people but there are times, especially after a number of short rides that leave me in the middle of nowhere that all I want is one decent long ride.

As I stood on this lonely stretch of highway some north on Manning, I started to count the number of cars that would pass me in a specific length of time. As a car passed me that could have offered me a drive ( I didn't count corporate or transport trucks) I would transfer a pebble from one pocket to another. After all the stones were transferred I, based on the number of cars that passed me in ten minutes, calculated the number of cars an hour that were passing me. There were times that it appeared that only 15-20 cars an hour were going by. Some of the occupants of these cars waved, others vehicles moved to the other side of the road (out of politeness or fear I am not sure), and some occasionally slowed down so they could get a better look, not to offer me a ride but rather as if I was some curiosity to marvel over. Once a pickup going the other direction stopped, a young man rolled down the window and just stared at me for 30 seconds. I guess they don't see many hitchhikers in this part of Alberta.  By my guess, after exhaustive investigation, it appeared that I need a traffic volume of approximately 50 cars an hour to get a ride fairly quickly. That was not going to happen on this road.

However eventually a large pick-up truck did stop. I threw my pack in the back seat - I didn't care where he was going. As I got in, the driver who looked to be around my age, asked if I had a gun or a knife. As I was already in the seat, it seemed like a slightly irrelevant question. But I answered it anyways.

Jake was just off to High Level. I of course was not too sure how far away it was but I had to assume that any town would give me access to more vehicles than where I had been for the past few hours. It turned out to be about 150 kilometers. Not the great long drive that I had been hoping for but it was the longest drive of the day. If the drivers (however few they might have been) were not so nice I would have gotten really discouraged. But they were nice. They all had lots to talk about and while the rides were short - that was not their fault - they generously drove me as far as they were going.

Jake amongst other things was a hunter. He said he only hunted for food for his family. I think he liked and appreciated animals. For example we saw a few black bears along the side of the road and he stopped so that he (and I) could enjoy the sight of a two year old bear eating and playing in the grass. We also talked about rules and why some people follow them. The example he used was hunting from his truck. (apparently you can be standing beside your car and shoot or you can, from a stand up a tree, shoot at a bear that has been trained to eat garbage out of a steel drum, but you can't shoot an animal from a truck?). His point was, if you do it and no one sees you do it, what moral law has been broken? Who has been hurt? Clearly, except for the animal no one has and the animal would have been shot anyway. I suspect he had done it more than once. Hunting was not a sport to him - it was shopping for the winter's meat.

We also talked about kids and their expectations. His young adult daughter wanted him to co-sign a car loan. He was prepared to do that but he thought she should probably not buy a brand new car and that she should get a job first. It was hard to argue with him.

Jake let me out at the southern end of High Level at a place that he said trucks stopped. It was a small gas station and I decided to walk to other end of town (which was only a ten minute walk). It was only around 6:00 so I knew I had lots of time left to get a ride further north. I knew the sun was not going to set anytime soon.

On the Road Again 2012 intermission

As you may have noted I have not be blogging for the last few days. I was on Salt Spring Island.

Tomorrow I am off to the folk festival at Providence Farm.

So it might be Monday before I get back to it. If on the other hand the ordering of my new tablet had not got messed up, I might be up to date.

On the Road Again 2012 #9

I , when I had gone to bed the previous night, had had a brief twinge of guilt over not hitchhiking a bit longer. After all the reason why I normally do not hitch past 8:30- 9:00 is that is is getting both too dark for me to see the cars or for the cars to see me. But last night when I finally went to sleep after 11:00 it was still bright outside. I could have been on the road for another three-four hours. Of course me standing there at 10:00 PM in no way guarantees that anyone would be driving anywhere I wanted to go. It was after all, the beginning of a long weekend.

To make up for my apparent slackness the previous night I was up and ready to go before 7:00. I handed in my motel room card and was on the road by 7:15.  All of my rushing about was somewhat wasted. I could in fact have stayed in bed for another hour and probably had some breakfast. In the first half hour of being on the road I saw only a handful of cars  and most of those cars were heading into town. Eventually I did get a brief twenty minute ride in a rather nice full size car which took me up to the intersection of  highways 2 and 35. My driver, an older gentleman who by profession was a truck driver for an oil exploration company promised me that there would be more traffic there. He was right. There was a bit more traffic but there were still five-ten minute spells when there were no cars at all. It took a while for one of those cars to stop.

My next ride was once again in one of those big pick-ups that seem so popular in Alberta. Although in this case at least the box was being well used. My new driver was a young thirty something man who ran his own small trucking company and was taking a few hours on a Saturday morning to deliver some tires to a garage in Manning. My driver had grown up in the Yukon where his parents and grandparents were determined to be self-sufficient. From my driver's perspective this meant that while he had to do without a lot of things he also developed some great skills in terms of repairing and building machinery (e.g. his first motorbike) and the value of hard work. And work hard he did. He had driven trucks for other companies but had decided to start his own trucking company in direct competition to the "big companies". He knew that he could be more flexible and customer orientated than the other companies and therefore he would do well. He also knew that within a year or so one of the big companies would offer to buy him out. At that point he would have enough money to start another company.

He had one four year old boy and so we discussed being a dad. We quickly got onto the issue of rules and discipline. For the most part he was a far stricter dad than I had ever been. His son already had small chores to do and got an allowance for it. On the other hand his four year old  had a small off-wheel quad. Dad was quite clear that while he would be a strict dad, his children would never have to do without like he had had.

We also indirectly discussed fuel mileage. He was quite please with the mileage he was getting in his truck.He seemed quite content that he was averaging  17 liters per 100 kilometers. I didn't have the heart that on a good day my magic number is about 5..5.

I only saw Manning from the highway so I do not have a clue how big it is or what it is like. I do not that there is a lot of local traffic and that there seemed to be an inordinate number of people visiting the local tire place. None of them offered me a ride. It was at Manning that I started to notices that there was some usual pebbles mixed into the gravel and picked up a few to play with. By the time I got to Yellowknife I had collected eight such stones. Sometimes I would find one I liked, keep it for awhile and then discard it when I found one I liked better. I don't know why eight became the magic number but it did.

One can perhaps tell that I was at this spot for sometime and that the scenery was not particularly interesting. Looking for stones kept me awake and moving.

After what felt like a long wait two young men who were plumbers offered me a twenty minute ride down the road. In the belief that turning down a ride going in the right direction angers the gods of hitchhiking, I took the ride and ended up on a stretch of highway that did not look promising. There were farmers fields around me and not much else. I did however find a few more interesting stones.