Thursday, August 30, 2012
On the Road Again 2012 #26
I woke up in Revelstoke fairly early in the morning. Actually I had not slept that well. When I had been dropped off the night before I had found, I thought, a nice little spot behind the Days Inn, just beside the Public Art Gallery. It was bit too well lit but it felt relatively private and safe. I had noticed a seven to eight foot incline just behind me and had debated a few seconds as to whether or not climb the little hill to see if there was a better spot on the other side. I decided I was far too lazy and/or tired to bother. Perhaps I should have, at the very least, looked.
I set up my bivy sack and covered up my pack. It was a pleasant evening and I was looking forward to a good night's sleep. The ground was a bit hard but by moving my body around I fitted it to the hollows and bumps. I was content with my day. I had travelled a good distance and all felt right with the world. I fell asleep quickly.
I awoke just as the first of at least 4 freight trains rumbled by me on the embankment. If I had climbed that seven to eight foot high hill I would have realized that on top was the main CP train track between Calgary and Vancouver. The ground literally shook as the train went by. Not only did the ground vibrate but it sounded as if every bearing on every wheel on every car needed a lube job. It was an exceptionally harsh alarm clock especially as it was only 1:00 in the morning. Three more times that harsh alarm clock went off. The night was not as restful as I would have hoped.
Things were a bit damp with a heavy dew the next morning. I got up, backed my gear, brushed my hair, teeth and beard and walked down to the road. I dropped my pack off at the front door or Denny's and went in for what was the best breakfast of my trip - lots of green peppers, mushrooms, onions, potatoes and scrambled potatoes all served in a small cast iron frying pan. The pan was hot but it came with its own small oven mitt. Tasty stuff.
Revelstoke is one of my more favourite towns in the Rockies to visit. In fact Lorraine and I had discussed staying a day at the hostel just to enjoy the view but when I got up it looked like it was going to be a cloudy day. I decided to keep on moving. Leaving Revelstoke is a bit challenging in that there is a long hill to climb before the shoulder widens out enough for car to pull over. For me it takes a full 30 minutes to walk up the hill. Of course I can' walk 30 minutes uphill without stopping at least twice so it takes me a bit longer to get to the top. There is however, a great spot at the top of the hill. It is great not only because there is a wide spot for cars to park in as I load up their car, but also because in the afternoon it is shady.
After standing there for an hour or two watching the cars and trucks pass me by a large four door pick-up truck stopped and the driver offered me a ride. Once again the driver was a female in her mid 30s. Never in all of my years of hitchhiking, not even on the islands, had I gotten back-to-back drives from women. It was a nice change.
Valerie owned along with her father and brother, an EMT (they provide ambulance services to the oil companies that are drilling or processing oil) company. While she lived in Kelowna her head office was in Grande Prairie. She was willing to drive me to Calgary where she was going for some meetings before heading north. Again my driver was articulate, bright, hard working and knowledgeable about her business. She just was not terribly interested in mine.
Her business was in some ways a simple one. Oil companies need to have individuals who have para-medic skills on site at their various operations. Valerie's company provided such services. The problem was that as the price in oil dropped below a certain point, companies closed down some of their operations until the price rose again. It struck me that it must be very difficult to run a business when one is entirely dependent upon someone else’s bottom line and secondly that it is hard to argue that the oil companies don't manipulate the prices. Prices for crude get too low - they stop producing until there is a shortage and then the prices go up. Then they start to produce again.
Valerie noted that it was mainly the western international oil companies who did this. The companies owned by the Chinese keep on exploring and producing regardless of the price. They are not producing for the world market - just themselves.
Valerie and I did not have a lot in common. While I could appreciate the complexities of her business and of being a sole support mom, I am not a sales person. And that was what she needed to be. For example Valerie had set up two days of meetings in Calgary to meet prospective customers. As we drove she made a number of phone calls to friends and contacts to get even more names of people she could talk to. There were a number of times, especially as we got closer to Calgary that she asked (told) me to be quiet as she had some phone calls to make. She was an intensely focused individual who was driven to succeed. I am grateful for the ride and a chance to see another side of life. But I was not envious of the various tasks she had set for herself.
Valerie let me off in downtown Calgary. They were doing some repairs to the sidewalks around the “C” train tracks and I ended up going the wrong way. It is fortunate that there were no trains running…. I could have been trapped with no way out of the track area. Fortunately one of the construction guys opened a gate, asked what I was doing there and let me through to a safer area.
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
On the Road Again 2012 # 25
Lorraine drove me all of the way to Revelstoke (although she was somewhat coy about telling me where she was going - she later admitted that she did not want to tell me how far she was going until she was sure that she wanted me with her that long). She was the first in a series of four drivers who, while some of them had achieved remarkable success in their lives, were somewhat self-centered in their conversations and none of them ever exhibited any real desire to hear my stories. Lorraine for example never asked once in the near six hours we were together what I did for a living. All of the rides were somewhat easy rides in that I didn't have to participate in much of the discussions. I would just ask a simple question and they were off on another monologue.
I don't want to imply that Lorraine or the others were not interesting. In fact the opposite is true. For example Lorraine had achieved some impress successes in the realm of professional downhill racing (bicycles) and was by all accounts somewhat in demand as a trainer and as a coach. I had lots of questions about the sport and that life. Lorraine was generous in answering them. As she freely admitted, the sport is more about lifestyle than about a high level of competition (e.g. Olympics). She made money not only by coaching for various lodges but also by getting free products including clothing and bikes (some of which were worth more than $10,000.) As she was in her late 30s she was working hard to get more sponsorships from the various companies affiliated with the sport. It was her hope that she could convince them that more women would buy high end equipment if there were more women in the sport. (I thought it was a great argument) She was also quite convinced that her photos in the various magazines and her coaching of men would allow her to be a good representative. We spent a fair amount of time talking about various marketing approaches that might convince the owners that they should sponsor her. It could be a lucrative business. Lorraine was fairly sure that the top men were making $120,000 to $180,00 a year both by winning competitions and through sponsors.
Her business was in fact a strange one and somewhat incestuous. The races (and other similar events) were sponsored by the companies that made products (clothing, bikes and even Red Bull drinks); racers competed in these event to win prizes and to get them the name recognition that would get them sponsorships from those companies; the people watching the event do not pay to watch; the sole purpose of the events is to sell products made by the companies that sponsor the event. It is in fact one giant commercial. However the real money is not in racing, it is in getting the affluent audience to buy the clothing and the bikes.
Lorraine had a very positive approach to life and worked hard at staying that way. She had a strong spiritual side and really believed that if she believed things were possible, then they were. She had numerous examples where because of her attitude, things had worked out well for her. I suspect that the fact that she was a female, quite genuine and charming, very bright, and very hard working helped as well.
We only had one disagreement. I suggested at some point that she worked in a sport that catered to the financial elite. The cost of equipment and training for the weekend warriors is extraordinary. The sport only can exist as long as rich people and their children buy the stuff that is being advertised. The sport would not exist if it were not for the millions that are being made by the sponsoring companies. Lorraine was a little bit offended by my observation. I am not too sure why. It would seem to me that the truth is pretty obvious.
I asked Lorraine why she had never wanted to compete in the Olympics. Her answer was interesting. First of all there is no downhill hill racing in the Olympics ( there is a distinct difference between the cross country racing in the Olympics and downhill racing. Amongst other things, the later sport requires a rather high mountain for the contestants to go down); secondly, while she was obviously very fit, she had no desire to work very hard for four years without reward just to compete. As she said - her sport is about lifestyle as much as anything else. Lorraine enjoyed her life and did take time off to travel.
Lorraine also had another job. She, during the five winter months, worked in a semi-government office dealing with avalanches and their effects on the roads etc. For much of her career, it was this job that put the bread upon the table.
We get to Revelstoke around 11:30. Lorraine was somewhat concerned about where to let me off. I was quite content for it to be anywhere. She did offer her backyard (she seemed to understand that I wanted to sleep outside) but as it was out of down I elected for somewhere near the highway.
It had been a long day. I had gone from Naniamo to Revelstoke in a day. That was pretty good travelling.
I don't want to imply that Lorraine or the others were not interesting. In fact the opposite is true. For example Lorraine had achieved some impress successes in the realm of professional downhill racing (bicycles) and was by all accounts somewhat in demand as a trainer and as a coach. I had lots of questions about the sport and that life. Lorraine was generous in answering them. As she freely admitted, the sport is more about lifestyle than about a high level of competition (e.g. Olympics). She made money not only by coaching for various lodges but also by getting free products including clothing and bikes (some of which were worth more than $10,000.) As she was in her late 30s she was working hard to get more sponsorships from the various companies affiliated with the sport. It was her hope that she could convince them that more women would buy high end equipment if there were more women in the sport. (I thought it was a great argument) She was also quite convinced that her photos in the various magazines and her coaching of men would allow her to be a good representative. We spent a fair amount of time talking about various marketing approaches that might convince the owners that they should sponsor her. It could be a lucrative business. Lorraine was fairly sure that the top men were making $120,000 to $180,00 a year both by winning competitions and through sponsors.
Her business was in fact a strange one and somewhat incestuous. The races (and other similar events) were sponsored by the companies that made products (clothing, bikes and even Red Bull drinks); racers competed in these event to win prizes and to get them the name recognition that would get them sponsorships from those companies; the people watching the event do not pay to watch; the sole purpose of the events is to sell products made by the companies that sponsor the event. It is in fact one giant commercial. However the real money is not in racing, it is in getting the affluent audience to buy the clothing and the bikes.
Lorraine had a very positive approach to life and worked hard at staying that way. She had a strong spiritual side and really believed that if she believed things were possible, then they were. She had numerous examples where because of her attitude, things had worked out well for her. I suspect that the fact that she was a female, quite genuine and charming, very bright, and very hard working helped as well.
We only had one disagreement. I suggested at some point that she worked in a sport that catered to the financial elite. The cost of equipment and training for the weekend warriors is extraordinary. The sport only can exist as long as rich people and their children buy the stuff that is being advertised. The sport would not exist if it were not for the millions that are being made by the sponsoring companies. Lorraine was a little bit offended by my observation. I am not too sure why. It would seem to me that the truth is pretty obvious.
I asked Lorraine why she had never wanted to compete in the Olympics. Her answer was interesting. First of all there is no downhill hill racing in the Olympics ( there is a distinct difference between the cross country racing in the Olympics and downhill racing. Amongst other things, the later sport requires a rather high mountain for the contestants to go down); secondly, while she was obviously very fit, she had no desire to work very hard for four years without reward just to compete. As she said - her sport is about lifestyle as much as anything else. Lorraine enjoyed her life and did take time off to travel.
Lorraine also had another job. She, during the five winter months, worked in a semi-government office dealing with avalanches and their effects on the roads etc. For much of her career, it was this job that put the bread upon the table.
We get to Revelstoke around 11:30. Lorraine was somewhat concerned about where to let me off. I was quite content for it to be anywhere. She did offer her backyard (she seemed to understand that I wanted to sleep outside) but as it was out of down I elected for somewhere near the highway.
It had been a long day. I had gone from Naniamo to Revelstoke in a day. That was pretty good travelling.
On the Road Again 2012 #24
I have stayed at Painted Turtle in Naniamo a few times before and generally I have enjoyed it but the room that I was in this time was on the street side. It is a busy street as all the folks from the local bars used it on their way home, or at least so it seemed. There was a lot of yelling back and forth amongst friends. There were times when their voices were so loud that it sounded as if they were in my room. I was tired before I got up.
The next morming the taxi was on time, I got to the ferry in good time and the ferry got to the other side just when it should. The Greyhound which last time was almost empty, was full to standing room only but the views on the Sea to Skyway are so extraordiary that I did not mind. When I got to Whistler I checked the city bus schedule. I would have had to wait half a hour to catch the bus that would get me to the edge of town. I decided to hitch from downtown Whistler. Perhaps that decision not a good one.
I got a ride fairly quickly but it was only a short one. At the next spot, while I waited for a ride, the city bus passed where I was standing. I would have better of spending the $2.75. As well a person walked across the highway and started to hitch 15 feet in front of me. That is just bad manners. Although I must confess that the spot he chose was a better spot. After he got a ride, I took his spot.
I had to wait another twenty mintues before I got another ride. This one was equally as short to the tiny village of St Croix ( I think that is what it was called but I can't find on a map)
This village is part of a First Nation's community. There were a lot of hitchikers and they all got rides quickly from people they knew. I had to wait well over an hour and a half. While waiting for a ride, a large black bear ambled across the road. He/she paid no attention to me about 10 feet a way nor to anyone else in the area. As it was now getting close to 4:30 I was getting a bit worried. If I didn't get a ride by 7:30 I knew that I would have to look for a place to sleep.The fact that a bear was in the area and was apparently not particularly concerned about humans caused me some concern. Sleeping anywhere near a bear sounded like a bad plan.
There were a fair number of cars passing me by, but I think they were mostly local traffic although it is always hard to be sure. For example one of the vehicles that passed me was a blue Toyota pick-up truck with two mountain bikes in the back. It was driven by a young woman. It seemed logical to assume that that this driver and truck were heading towards where the owner of the other bike was waiting for them. Afterall - who has two bikes in their truck?
The answer is a professional downhill mountain bike racer. The driver turned around and came back for me. The first think that Lorraine asked was " are you going to rob me or hurt me?" I of course answered no - but it is a strange question. If I did plan on doing any of those things - would I admit to it?
The next morming the taxi was on time, I got to the ferry in good time and the ferry got to the other side just when it should. The Greyhound which last time was almost empty, was full to standing room only but the views on the Sea to Skyway are so extraordiary that I did not mind. When I got to Whistler I checked the city bus schedule. I would have had to wait half a hour to catch the bus that would get me to the edge of town. I decided to hitch from downtown Whistler. Perhaps that decision not a good one.
I got a ride fairly quickly but it was only a short one. At the next spot, while I waited for a ride, the city bus passed where I was standing. I would have better of spending the $2.75. As well a person walked across the highway and started to hitch 15 feet in front of me. That is just bad manners. Although I must confess that the spot he chose was a better spot. After he got a ride, I took his spot.
I had to wait another twenty mintues before I got another ride. This one was equally as short to the tiny village of St Croix ( I think that is what it was called but I can't find on a map)
This village is part of a First Nation's community. There were a lot of hitchikers and they all got rides quickly from people they knew. I had to wait well over an hour and a half. While waiting for a ride, a large black bear ambled across the road. He/she paid no attention to me about 10 feet a way nor to anyone else in the area. As it was now getting close to 4:30 I was getting a bit worried. If I didn't get a ride by 7:30 I knew that I would have to look for a place to sleep.The fact that a bear was in the area and was apparently not particularly concerned about humans caused me some concern. Sleeping anywhere near a bear sounded like a bad plan.
There were a fair number of cars passing me by, but I think they were mostly local traffic although it is always hard to be sure. For example one of the vehicles that passed me was a blue Toyota pick-up truck with two mountain bikes in the back. It was driven by a young woman. It seemed logical to assume that that this driver and truck were heading towards where the owner of the other bike was waiting for them. Afterall - who has two bikes in their truck?
The answer is a professional downhill mountain bike racer. The driver turned around and came back for me. The first think that Lorraine asked was " are you going to rob me or hurt me?" I of course answered no - but it is a strange question. If I did plan on doing any of those things - would I admit to it?
Monday, August 20, 2012
On the Road Again 2012 #23.
I am at the Painted Turtle Hostel in Nanaimo - Monday night - August 20.
Leaving my son and family is aways so hard. I am not too sure why this is so. Perhaps it is in part leaving the island (Vancouver Is) and knowing that I am heading back to my other life; perhap it is a bit of anxiety about the upcoming trip, perhaps it is quite simply that I know I won't see them for another 5 months and that is just too long. I enjoy it out here and I am sad to leave.
My son and I enjoy a weird and unique relationship..... but there is never enough time for us to do all that we perhaps would like to do.
However in the past week we have gone swimming in the river and in a lake and have gone for two great and long hike. I will post pictures when I can figure out how to do it from the tablet.
One of the things that I normally do when at the hostel is go out for a veggie burger abd a beer. The restaurant was closed and so I had to make do with a submarine sandwich. Not the same at all. I went to the dock area and watched folks fish and crab fiing. It is rather interesting.
I am siting in what the hostel calls the "great room" with 5-6 other people all of whom are using the computer.
I am hungry
later.....
Leaving my son and family is aways so hard. I am not too sure why this is so. Perhaps it is in part leaving the island (Vancouver Is) and knowing that I am heading back to my other life; perhap it is a bit of anxiety about the upcoming trip, perhaps it is quite simply that I know I won't see them for another 5 months and that is just too long. I enjoy it out here and I am sad to leave.
My son and I enjoy a weird and unique relationship..... but there is never enough time for us to do all that we perhaps would like to do.
However in the past week we have gone swimming in the river and in a lake and have gone for two great and long hike. I will post pictures when I can figure out how to do it from the tablet.
One of the things that I normally do when at the hostel is go out for a veggie burger abd a beer. The restaurant was closed and so I had to make do with a submarine sandwich. Not the same at all. I went to the dock area and watched folks fish and crab fiing. It is rather interesting.
I am siting in what the hostel calls the "great room" with 5-6 other people all of whom are using the computer.
I am hungry
later.....
On the Road Again 2012 intermission
Dear gentle reader
Tomorrow I start my eastward journey. It may take a few days for me to get a place where wifi is available....so I may be off line for awhile. I would really like to do the blog if not in real time - then at least close to it. So hopefully I will be able to keep up to date.
With the help of my son I did manage to retrieve from my old and broken tablet my initial notes done on the train.
I will try to edit those notes and post thems as soon as possible.
Sunday, August 19, 2012
On the Road Again 2012 # 22
I was wrong. A vehicle did stop for me. My driver was headed for the outskirts of Vancouver. The man driving and his father were members of a First Nations community who, I think, lived in Vancouver. It was not a very long drive, but it was great to have an intelligent conversation about social issues with no sense of one-up-manship or dominance. They were interested in my stories but were able to connect them to their own stories. For example when I talked about looking forward to seeing my son and his family, they talked about how important their family were to them as well. I didn't spend any more than an hour in the vehicle but it was enough to restore my faith in humanity. They picked me up to help, not too prove something to a stranger.
I do not know Vancouver very well and did not have a clue where they were going to let me off. But I recognized one of the signs, got them to let me out and was able to find a bus stop that got me to a Skytrain station.
I took the train to Main Street where I knew there were two hostels. They are a little bit scuzzy - but for one night they would do fine. Both were full. So I had to walk for 45 minutes up Hastings Street to Granville and then along Granville until the International Hostel. I got the last available bed.
The walk up Hasting Street was physically tiring, but it was emotionally draining. I think it is the most depressing street I had ever walked along. The addicts, the homeless, and those who have worked in the sex trade for far too long are all jumbled together in one street. While there are tiny rays of hope as shown by the emergence of community gardens or the signs of protest over the destruction of cheap housing that is being replaced by condos for yuppies - so many of the lives that live on Hasting Street are filled with danger, a sense of hopelessness and for me at least, a sense that so many of the people walk right by them and don't even see them.
There is a curious jaxa-postioning of the homeless and the young people going to the clubs along Grandville Street. There are old men asking for change in old paper coffee cups and young girls striding along in mini skirts while others are getting out long white stretch limousines built with the front of a Humvee. As I was up the street I accidentally kicked over one man's cup. I of course dropped my pack and helped him pick all of the change up. While the cup was two thirds full when we were all done - it was mostly filled with pennies. An evening's work and I doubt if there was more than 50 cents. I wondered if the people who dropped him their few pennies smiled and felt good about themselves when they dropped the money into the cup. I suspect they did.
I found the hostel, threw my stuff on the assigned bed, put on my sandals and went out for a quick bite to eat. I sat on a bench eat a pita and watched the action happening on the street. The whole scene that was happening in front of my eyes felt so disconnected from the past nine days. If anyone of the people had stopped to talk to me, I don't know what I would have said. I had nothing in common with them.I didn't belong here. As I was walking up the street towards the hostel I felt far more comfortable with the homeless. I did not want to have to spend the night on the streets with them, but if I had had to, it would have been fine. I have done it before. But to spend the night with these pretty people all dressed up and ready to drink and to party would have been a bit too much for this weary traveller.
I went to bed in the hostel and quickly feel asleep. I was up early the next morning and got the bus to Horseshoe Bay. The little village is an attractive place to spend an hour or two and it gave me time to relax and slow down. On the other side my son and grandson waited for me to drive me home.
It was good to be back on the West Coast with my family. It had been quite an adventure. I had made it to Yellowknife, had crossed the Mackenzie River and I had seen wild bison along the side of the road. I had travelled up to where the sun shines 23 hours a day and made it back again. I had had some great rides from some very interesting people. I had learned a lot about theirs and other people's lives.
I was tired. Physically I was well but the nine days had been hard both on my body and on my mind. I was ready for some consistency. I was done travelling for a while. It was time to put up my feet and relax as befits a senior citizen.
I do not know Vancouver very well and did not have a clue where they were going to let me off. But I recognized one of the signs, got them to let me out and was able to find a bus stop that got me to a Skytrain station.
I took the train to Main Street where I knew there were two hostels. They are a little bit scuzzy - but for one night they would do fine. Both were full. So I had to walk for 45 minutes up Hastings Street to Granville and then along Granville until the International Hostel. I got the last available bed.
The walk up Hasting Street was physically tiring, but it was emotionally draining. I think it is the most depressing street I had ever walked along. The addicts, the homeless, and those who have worked in the sex trade for far too long are all jumbled together in one street. While there are tiny rays of hope as shown by the emergence of community gardens or the signs of protest over the destruction of cheap housing that is being replaced by condos for yuppies - so many of the lives that live on Hasting Street are filled with danger, a sense of hopelessness and for me at least, a sense that so many of the people walk right by them and don't even see them.
There is a curious jaxa-postioning of the homeless and the young people going to the clubs along Grandville Street. There are old men asking for change in old paper coffee cups and young girls striding along in mini skirts while others are getting out long white stretch limousines built with the front of a Humvee. As I was up the street I accidentally kicked over one man's cup. I of course dropped my pack and helped him pick all of the change up. While the cup was two thirds full when we were all done - it was mostly filled with pennies. An evening's work and I doubt if there was more than 50 cents. I wondered if the people who dropped him their few pennies smiled and felt good about themselves when they dropped the money into the cup. I suspect they did.
I found the hostel, threw my stuff on the assigned bed, put on my sandals and went out for a quick bite to eat. I sat on a bench eat a pita and watched the action happening on the street. The whole scene that was happening in front of my eyes felt so disconnected from the past nine days. If anyone of the people had stopped to talk to me, I don't know what I would have said. I had nothing in common with them.I didn't belong here. As I was walking up the street towards the hostel I felt far more comfortable with the homeless. I did not want to have to spend the night on the streets with them, but if I had had to, it would have been fine. I have done it before. But to spend the night with these pretty people all dressed up and ready to drink and to party would have been a bit too much for this weary traveller.
I went to bed in the hostel and quickly feel asleep. I was up early the next morning and got the bus to Horseshoe Bay. The little village is an attractive place to spend an hour or two and it gave me time to relax and slow down. On the other side my son and grandson waited for me to drive me home.
It was good to be back on the West Coast with my family. It had been quite an adventure. I had made it to Yellowknife, had crossed the Mackenzie River and I had seen wild bison along the side of the road. I had travelled up to where the sun shines 23 hours a day and made it back again. I had had some great rides from some very interesting people. I had learned a lot about theirs and other people's lives.
I was tired. Physically I was well but the nine days had been hard both on my body and on my mind. I was ready for some consistency. I was done travelling for a while. It was time to put up my feet and relax as befits a senior citizen.
On the Road Again 2012 #21
I had been let off across from a gas station/grocery store. There was a lot of traffic in and out of that parking lot and of course every time I saw a car leave I got hopeful. But in hindsight it was pretty obvious that most of the customers were local people and they were probably not going far. It was still early in the day so I was not worried. If my memory was correct, the last ferry to Vancouver Island was sometime around 9:00. That meant that I still had a chance of getting to Nanaimo tonight. I would need some luck to make the ferry but I thought it was possible. Almost as soon as I thought about that possibility a black, somewhat sporty car stopped.
The first words I heard were "I am going to Chilliwack, the car will be smoky and the music loud". As I got into the car Wade repeated his statesmen to make sure I heard him. I assured him that I had. Wade was the last of my three males who had what could charitably be at best described as having bizarre views of women. It was to be a long and complicated journey full of little problems and inconsistencies in his story. In fact it was difficult to piece together his story into a coherent whole . Wade who was now 35 had been/was a drug addict. He had,in the past made his living from selling drugs. He said that he had lots of money and possessions left over from those days including a large house in the country, a really nice truck, and some other stuff. It was not clear why he had left the city and moved to the country or where all of his money went. Later on he kept on saying how broke he was.
He told me that he was no longer using drugs but later said that he had just gotten a medical license to grow marijuana. His doctor did not know how to do a prescription and therefore, according to him, allowed him to grow 88 plants at a time. Because he had created an indoor growing operation, that meant that he could grow that many plants three times a year. While Wade denied selling anything to anyone he was producing far more product than anyone could normally consume.
He told me that he had to make a brief stop in Kamloops - I thought we were just picking up a prescription....but no. He had to go to the methadone clinic for his dose. He was angry that he had to drive so far to get help. He thought he should be given his total doses for a week or two. I can appreciate the inconvenience of having to drive so far every couple of days but I would not have trusted him with that much methadone.The process took about an hour. I didn't mind chatting to the folks in the clinic, but I would have preferred to be on the road getting closer to Vancouver and the ferry. Then we had to go a place that provides hydroponic equipment. In the past twenty or so years there has been a dramatic increase in the number of such stores. While everyone pretends that a lot of people are growing lots of hydroponic veggies, many people realize that these store only exist because of all the pot growers.
Wade told me that he was going to Chilliwack to attend a birthday party for one of his children. According to Wade he had had 10 kids. He was in contact with six of them. The other four had moved out of the province with their mothers. He was determined to get there for the party at whatever the cost. He called his son's home a few times to remind him that he was coming, and he certainly drove faster than some cars on the road.
Wade at present had a girlfriend and said that he was planning on marrying her within the year. He gave her the credit for him cleaning up his drug habits and insisting that he get some medical assistance for his addictions. I would have loved to have talked to her about how she reconciled her belief that he both needed to get out of dealing drugs and using them - with the 88 plants in the basement growing under hydroponic grow lights.
Somewhere near Merrick the temperature gauge started to rise. Wade informed me that he had had problems with the water pump and had fixed it with some sort of off-the shelf product from Canadian Tire. We stopped at Merrick to put some water in the radiator. When we opened the hood it was clear that the repair job had started to leak. Wade decided that we needed to go Canadian Tire to both look for some sort of product that would seal the leak and for Wade to look for a parts for the water pump. We ended up talking to the Canadian Tire mechanics who were about finished for the day. Their remedy was clear - either he should leave the car there and they would fix it on Monday or he could carry as many jugs of water as possible and drive carefully. Wade kept on telling the mechanics (who only wanted to go home on time) that he had no money and could not afford to have the vehicle fixed and how his little boy really needed to see him for his birthday. Eventually after what felt like a 100 questions about how he could fix it, the guys filled up eight to nine old jugs and we loaded them into the trunk.
If I had been smart I would have perhaps stayed on the highway at Kamloops as opposed to stopping at the clinic but instead I felt as if I had wasted two hours. As we got back on the highway I tried to convince Wade that perhaps if he went slower, the car would not over heat. Wade's preferred solution was to drive fast and then with me acting as time keeper, stop every 20 minutes to check the water level. Of course,in spite of the mechanic's comments, Wade was convinced that the engine had to cool down before one could add water to the overflow reservoir. It felt as if it took us a long time to cover the remaining miles. Things were even slower when we came to a solid line of vehicles stopped on the highway. As we found out later transport truck had caught fire and delayed traffic for some time.
Wade pulled over in front of another car to let his car cool down. The other car seemed to be having some difficulties as there was a pool of water underneath the engine. However the driver informed us that the problem had been fixed and he was just waiting for the traffic to start up again. He also told us that he was going to Duncan but with this traffic he knew he was going to miss the last ferry. For a moment there I got excited about getting a drive all the way to Duncan, but the guy was going to find a motel and clearly did not want to get saddled with me.
Throughout the trip Wade had been bragging about how good his present girlfriend was to him. His attitude towards her however was condescending and chauvinistic. However after our stop at the Canadian Tire he started to call both his old girlfriend (mother of his son) and his new girlfriend. He was calling the former to tell her that he would be late but that he would get there some time. I think he wanted her to postpone the party until he got there. He also wanted her to call up all of the auto parts suppliers in the area and find out if they had this part or that part, how much it would cost and how late were they open. He also called up his present girlfriend with the same questions. As he referred to them using the same terms of endearments, I had some difficulties figuring out who he was talking to. As he clearly planned on spending the night at his former girlfriend's house - I clearly did not understand the relationship he had with either girl. No matter who he was talking to, he was demanding and almost abusive; yelling at them when they didn't get the right information, demanding that they call back and get it right this time. He kept on saying that he could not do it as he was losing the signal or it would cost too much. It seemed to me that he had plenty of time to make the calls when we were stopped.
We finally got to Chilliwack. It was close to 8:30. Wade let me out about a ten minute walk from the highway. As much as I appreciated the ride, I was quite tired of his attitude, his whinnying to the mechanics and his girlfriend(s), his boastfulness, his manipulations and his general sense that someone owed him a living. But he could be a nice guy. He certainly helped me out and he would have helped the other stranded motorist. As I said they were inconsistencies about him that were puzzling.
As soon as got on the entrance ramp I started to look for a place to sleep. I knew I was not going to get a ride tonight on this busy stretch of highway.
The first words I heard were "I am going to Chilliwack, the car will be smoky and the music loud". As I got into the car Wade repeated his statesmen to make sure I heard him. I assured him that I had. Wade was the last of my three males who had what could charitably be at best described as having bizarre views of women. It was to be a long and complicated journey full of little problems and inconsistencies in his story. In fact it was difficult to piece together his story into a coherent whole . Wade who was now 35 had been/was a drug addict. He had,in the past made his living from selling drugs. He said that he had lots of money and possessions left over from those days including a large house in the country, a really nice truck, and some other stuff. It was not clear why he had left the city and moved to the country or where all of his money went. Later on he kept on saying how broke he was.
He told me that he was no longer using drugs but later said that he had just gotten a medical license to grow marijuana. His doctor did not know how to do a prescription and therefore, according to him, allowed him to grow 88 plants at a time. Because he had created an indoor growing operation, that meant that he could grow that many plants three times a year. While Wade denied selling anything to anyone he was producing far more product than anyone could normally consume.
He told me that he had to make a brief stop in Kamloops - I thought we were just picking up a prescription....but no. He had to go to the methadone clinic for his dose. He was angry that he had to drive so far to get help. He thought he should be given his total doses for a week or two. I can appreciate the inconvenience of having to drive so far every couple of days but I would not have trusted him with that much methadone.The process took about an hour. I didn't mind chatting to the folks in the clinic, but I would have preferred to be on the road getting closer to Vancouver and the ferry. Then we had to go a place that provides hydroponic equipment. In the past twenty or so years there has been a dramatic increase in the number of such stores. While everyone pretends that a lot of people are growing lots of hydroponic veggies, many people realize that these store only exist because of all the pot growers.
Wade told me that he was going to Chilliwack to attend a birthday party for one of his children. According to Wade he had had 10 kids. He was in contact with six of them. The other four had moved out of the province with their mothers. He was determined to get there for the party at whatever the cost. He called his son's home a few times to remind him that he was coming, and he certainly drove faster than some cars on the road.
Wade at present had a girlfriend and said that he was planning on marrying her within the year. He gave her the credit for him cleaning up his drug habits and insisting that he get some medical assistance for his addictions. I would have loved to have talked to her about how she reconciled her belief that he both needed to get out of dealing drugs and using them - with the 88 plants in the basement growing under hydroponic grow lights.
Somewhere near Merrick the temperature gauge started to rise. Wade informed me that he had had problems with the water pump and had fixed it with some sort of off-the shelf product from Canadian Tire. We stopped at Merrick to put some water in the radiator. When we opened the hood it was clear that the repair job had started to leak. Wade decided that we needed to go Canadian Tire to both look for some sort of product that would seal the leak and for Wade to look for a parts for the water pump. We ended up talking to the Canadian Tire mechanics who were about finished for the day. Their remedy was clear - either he should leave the car there and they would fix it on Monday or he could carry as many jugs of water as possible and drive carefully. Wade kept on telling the mechanics (who only wanted to go home on time) that he had no money and could not afford to have the vehicle fixed and how his little boy really needed to see him for his birthday. Eventually after what felt like a 100 questions about how he could fix it, the guys filled up eight to nine old jugs and we loaded them into the trunk.
If I had been smart I would have perhaps stayed on the highway at Kamloops as opposed to stopping at the clinic but instead I felt as if I had wasted two hours. As we got back on the highway I tried to convince Wade that perhaps if he went slower, the car would not over heat. Wade's preferred solution was to drive fast and then with me acting as time keeper, stop every 20 minutes to check the water level. Of course,in spite of the mechanic's comments, Wade was convinced that the engine had to cool down before one could add water to the overflow reservoir. It felt as if it took us a long time to cover the remaining miles. Things were even slower when we came to a solid line of vehicles stopped on the highway. As we found out later transport truck had caught fire and delayed traffic for some time.
Wade pulled over in front of another car to let his car cool down. The other car seemed to be having some difficulties as there was a pool of water underneath the engine. However the driver informed us that the problem had been fixed and he was just waiting for the traffic to start up again. He also told us that he was going to Duncan but with this traffic he knew he was going to miss the last ferry. For a moment there I got excited about getting a drive all the way to Duncan, but the guy was going to find a motel and clearly did not want to get saddled with me.
Throughout the trip Wade had been bragging about how good his present girlfriend was to him. His attitude towards her however was condescending and chauvinistic. However after our stop at the Canadian Tire he started to call both his old girlfriend (mother of his son) and his new girlfriend. He was calling the former to tell her that he would be late but that he would get there some time. I think he wanted her to postpone the party until he got there. He also wanted her to call up all of the auto parts suppliers in the area and find out if they had this part or that part, how much it would cost and how late were they open. He also called up his present girlfriend with the same questions. As he referred to them using the same terms of endearments, I had some difficulties figuring out who he was talking to. As he clearly planned on spending the night at his former girlfriend's house - I clearly did not understand the relationship he had with either girl. No matter who he was talking to, he was demanding and almost abusive; yelling at them when they didn't get the right information, demanding that they call back and get it right this time. He kept on saying that he could not do it as he was losing the signal or it would cost too much. It seemed to me that he had plenty of time to make the calls when we were stopped.
We finally got to Chilliwack. It was close to 8:30. Wade let me out about a ten minute walk from the highway. As much as I appreciated the ride, I was quite tired of his attitude, his whinnying to the mechanics and his girlfriend(s), his boastfulness, his manipulations and his general sense that someone owed him a living. But he could be a nice guy. He certainly helped me out and he would have helped the other stranded motorist. As I said they were inconsistencies about him that were puzzling.
As soon as got on the entrance ramp I started to look for a place to sleep. I knew I was not going to get a ride tonight on this busy stretch of highway.
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