I have done a fair amount of hitchhiking across Canada. In the past 15-16 years, there have been a few windy days where I found the wind annoying or even tiring, but usually the wind was restricted to a specific local. It may of been windy in Portage, but the time I got my next ride a few hours down the road, the wind would have died down. This year, perhaps because I had had only short rides, it felt as if the wind was far stronger than normal and that it was spread across the whole of the Prairies. Regardless of why I was so aware of the strong wind, it was annoying, tiring and made a mess of my hair. Normally my braided chin strap is enough to keep the hat on my head, but not this time - I frequently had to hold my hat down with my hand else the hat would lift up and the strap would choke me. However, the next day in the same general area, there were tornadoes so I guess I should be grateful that the wind was not any worse.
It was still very early in the morning just outside that small truck stop in Swift Current. My spot looked to be a good one in terms of the width of the shoulder and visibility but cars were going by too quickly. Once one eliminated the big trucks, local traffic (people going to work) and cars and trucks belonging to various local companies from the vehicles streaming past me, there were not a lot of options. But the business of hitchhiking is in part to be grateful for the possibilities, to take joy in the knowledge that the next ride will be the best ride ever. Hitchhiking is always about being grateful for the present circumstance and always looking forward to the next opportunity. So I stuck out my sign, held down my hat and slipped into the semi awake, not really conscious of how much time you are spending standing there mode and tried to remember to look at every vehicle as it passed me.
It takes a lot of energy to stay focused. It is so easy to stand on the side of the road and just let the cars move on past without any real awareness. If one believes that eye contact, or at least looking at the driver may be one of the ways to get a driver to slow down, then one has to work at it. To remind oneself to do it. Sometimes after an hour or two or three, I need to mentally kick myself as I realize that I have been lost in my thoughts, not paying attention to the task at hand. I always wonder if I have missed a drive or two because I was day dreaming or whatever it is that I do when I stand on the side of the road. In fact I almost missed my next ride because I not paying attention.
The truck stop was not a large one but it appeared to have a decent sized restaurant that looked to be fairly busy. The trucks that were coming and going from the parking lot were not at all interested in me, and the cars seemed to be driven mainly by local people stopping by for some gas or a coffee before they started their day. I eventually stopped paying a lot attention to the coming and goings of the parking lot. However, after standing there for a couple of hours, by sheer chance or the grace of the hitchhiking Gods, I looked at the parking lot and saw a young looking woman waving at me. I was not sure that she was actually waving to me but I saw her doing things that looked as if she was moving stuff around to make room in her van. I took the chance, grabbed my bag and hurried over to her.
Yes - she had been waving to me and she was going to Kolowna .
Friday, July 20, 2018
Monday, July 16, 2018
Missing Ontario But Not its Politics
There are, contrary to the opinion of almost everyone living in British Columbia, a number of negatives about not living in Ontario. I miss the seasons, I miss the lovely spring days and the cool, crisp smell of autumn. I miss the streams and rivers, the deep dark lakes and of course I miss the majestic maples not just for their colour in the fall but for their long burning heat in the depths of winter and their glorious shape. But right now I do not miss their politics. It is tempting to delight in the fact that I not have to get up every morning and read about the destructive force that is Doug Ford. On the surface, I don't need to think about him or his poorly thought out "policies" (it may become a 21st century oxymoron to use Doug Ford and policy in the same sentence). But the sad truth is that Ontario's policies do affect the rest of Canada - and so I do need to worry.
If one is a resident of Ontario, it is easy (and important) to get upset about his decision to do away with Ontario's new sex education outlines. It was, without a doubt in the forefront of such educational policies. It was designed to not only help students talk about difficult topics at age appropriate times, but it also was designed to encourage discussion as to what does consent means. It clearly was not perfect and it did offend a number of people who do not like or realize that we live in a society that generally accepts a broad diversity of gender preferences. But if parents and educators do their job properly, the damage in the short term may be negligible.
Mr. Ford's policies on climate change vs. saving money in the short term is another matter - one that not only will affect Ontarians for the foreseeable future, but could as well affect Canada's capacity to reduce our collective carbon footprint. It would appear that Ford, without ever saying it, is a denier of the truth about climate change. Not only has he vowed to cancel the carbon cap and trade system - that process that is designed to recognize that the release of carbon into the air does cost money to society - but he has also cancelled 758 renewable energy deals (Financial Post) - including developing new wind farms, eliminated all of the homeowners grants to upgrade their houses with better windows, heat pumps and solar panels and done away with rebates for those who buy electric cars. Wide sweeping changes that yes will save millions of dollars in the short term but will add billions of dollars on to the budget in the years to come. Ford has made these announcements without one suggestion of what he will do to replace these programs. His goal is to save money - for the taxpayers he says- but he has cost those same tax payers millions of dollars
Canada is already far behind in its promises to do its share to reduce humanity's carbon footprint. With Leaders such as Mr. Ford denying that they have any responsibility to become part of the solution, the gap between what we need to do, what we promised to do and what we will achieve will only get larger.
One of the great lessons that people like Mike Harris, or Stephen Harper taught the voters is that when populist conservative leaders make election promises - when they get elected they do what they say they will do. I wonder how many of those home owners who will now lose the government's support to replace their windows or air conditioners voted for Mr. Ford - assuming that when he said he would cut government spending - that he meant cut funding to programs that only affected other people
.
If one is a resident of Ontario, it is easy (and important) to get upset about his decision to do away with Ontario's new sex education outlines. It was, without a doubt in the forefront of such educational policies. It was designed to not only help students talk about difficult topics at age appropriate times, but it also was designed to encourage discussion as to what does consent means. It clearly was not perfect and it did offend a number of people who do not like or realize that we live in a society that generally accepts a broad diversity of gender preferences. But if parents and educators do their job properly, the damage in the short term may be negligible.
Mr. Ford's policies on climate change vs. saving money in the short term is another matter - one that not only will affect Ontarians for the foreseeable future, but could as well affect Canada's capacity to reduce our collective carbon footprint. It would appear that Ford, without ever saying it, is a denier of the truth about climate change. Not only has he vowed to cancel the carbon cap and trade system - that process that is designed to recognize that the release of carbon into the air does cost money to society - but he has also cancelled 758 renewable energy deals (Financial Post) - including developing new wind farms, eliminated all of the homeowners grants to upgrade their houses with better windows, heat pumps and solar panels and done away with rebates for those who buy electric cars. Wide sweeping changes that yes will save millions of dollars in the short term but will add billions of dollars on to the budget in the years to come. Ford has made these announcements without one suggestion of what he will do to replace these programs. His goal is to save money - for the taxpayers he says- but he has cost those same tax payers millions of dollars
Canada is already far behind in its promises to do its share to reduce humanity's carbon footprint. With Leaders such as Mr. Ford denying that they have any responsibility to become part of the solution, the gap between what we need to do, what we promised to do and what we will achieve will only get larger.
One of the great lessons that people like Mike Harris, or Stephen Harper taught the voters is that when populist conservative leaders make election promises - when they get elected they do what they say they will do. I wonder how many of those home owners who will now lose the government's support to replace their windows or air conditioners voted for Mr. Ford - assuming that when he said he would cut government spending - that he meant cut funding to programs that only affected other people
.
Thursday, July 12, 2018
2018 On the Road Again #12
Lord but that ground just outside of Morse was hard! But it didn't rain, it got just cool enough that the bugs went away and the wind finally died down almost completely. With the exception of the freight trains that passed a few hundred meters away from me and the quiet hum of trucks making their way across the prairies, it was a quiet night. I woke up just as the sun started to show light in the east. I lay there, trying to find a soft spot of dirt to rest my hips when I thought I heard the first drops of rain. I did not want to pack up in a downpour so I quickly got up, got dressed and start to roll up my sleeping bag and bivy sack. Only then did I realize that it was not rain that I heard but the gentle flapping of the nylon flags above me. The wind was coming back.
It was still only barely morning when I sat down, all packed and ready to go but it was still too dark to stand on the road. I felt a lot more relaxed than I had the day before as I had called a friend and got her to cancel my appearance at the farmer's market for the Saturday. I was pretty sure that I could be back in time but the sense that I might not was always in the back of my mind. Hitchhiking is not fun if one is in a rush.
There was not a lot of traffic on the road at 6:00 in the morning but I had nothing else to do so I went down to the highway. There were a few trucks parked behind the gas station and I was mildly optimistic that one of those trucks would give me a ride to somewhere. And one did. It was a grain truck and he was just going to Swift Current but at least it would be near a major population centre. My driver said that he would let me off at a truck stop. Perfect! A bathroom and perhaps some breakfast. - things were looking up.
It is only about 60 kilometres from Morse to Swift Current and so we did not have a lot of time to talk. My driver was from the old school of driving where he took a six week course ( three weeks in class and three weeks driving practice) before he got his license and then on his first job was paired with a more experience driver for two weeks before he was let out on his own. My driver talked about the truck driver in the Humboldt bus accident and the fact that he was an immigrant from Pakistan (he used cruder words than that to describe him). He was sure that he had had, at best, only a few days training, that he had been allowed to cheat on his written test and that a more experienced driver had not been paired with him once he got his license. He was reasonably sure that the driver, because of his poor English skills was not paying attention to the road as he tried to determine what both his maps and the road signs said.
As I have a number of times before, I had a discussion about immigrant drivers. While I agreed that the newer drivers are poorly trained and may lack of the necessary skills and training to be the best drivers, I argued that the fault does not lie with them as much as it does with the owners of the companies. Those companies who hire drivers who they know have received inadequate training, employers who do nothing to ensure that those drivers get the needed training, and those employers who pay poorly and in fact prey upon the immigrants. My driver did not disagree with me but yet still resented the immigrant drivers who were taking lower wages (and therefore lowering the rates for all drivers) and I suspect resented those new drivers for lowering the public's general impression of all truck drivers.
It is a debate that I will never win. The truck drivers who pick me up are good people. Men who work hard doing a job that they think is important. They are frustrated with the lack of regulations at to training or support for new truckers. They see themselves as being under-valued members of their community who are underpaid. They, like any other profession, get angry when they see their position being diminished. They get angry at the people they can see, not the owners hiding in the corporate offices.
Interestingly - as my driver was complaining about people not following the rules, he told me that his truck was significantly over-weight and that if he got caught he would be fined thousands of dollars. He was not worried as he knew how to get around the scales. A friend of mine later told me that these big trucks are causing a lot of damage on the secondary roads of the province as they are hauling far heavier loads than the roads were designed for.
MY driver let me out on the west end of Swift Current. It was a small truck stop with not a lot of traffic. The wind was back in full force.
It was still only barely morning when I sat down, all packed and ready to go but it was still too dark to stand on the road. I felt a lot more relaxed than I had the day before as I had called a friend and got her to cancel my appearance at the farmer's market for the Saturday. I was pretty sure that I could be back in time but the sense that I might not was always in the back of my mind. Hitchhiking is not fun if one is in a rush.
There was not a lot of traffic on the road at 6:00 in the morning but I had nothing else to do so I went down to the highway. There were a few trucks parked behind the gas station and I was mildly optimistic that one of those trucks would give me a ride to somewhere. And one did. It was a grain truck and he was just going to Swift Current but at least it would be near a major population centre. My driver said that he would let me off at a truck stop. Perfect! A bathroom and perhaps some breakfast. - things were looking up.
It is only about 60 kilometres from Morse to Swift Current and so we did not have a lot of time to talk. My driver was from the old school of driving where he took a six week course ( three weeks in class and three weeks driving practice) before he got his license and then on his first job was paired with a more experience driver for two weeks before he was let out on his own. My driver talked about the truck driver in the Humboldt bus accident and the fact that he was an immigrant from Pakistan (he used cruder words than that to describe him). He was sure that he had had, at best, only a few days training, that he had been allowed to cheat on his written test and that a more experienced driver had not been paired with him once he got his license. He was reasonably sure that the driver, because of his poor English skills was not paying attention to the road as he tried to determine what both his maps and the road signs said.
As I have a number of times before, I had a discussion about immigrant drivers. While I agreed that the newer drivers are poorly trained and may lack of the necessary skills and training to be the best drivers, I argued that the fault does not lie with them as much as it does with the owners of the companies. Those companies who hire drivers who they know have received inadequate training, employers who do nothing to ensure that those drivers get the needed training, and those employers who pay poorly and in fact prey upon the immigrants. My driver did not disagree with me but yet still resented the immigrant drivers who were taking lower wages (and therefore lowering the rates for all drivers) and I suspect resented those new drivers for lowering the public's general impression of all truck drivers.
It is a debate that I will never win. The truck drivers who pick me up are good people. Men who work hard doing a job that they think is important. They are frustrated with the lack of regulations at to training or support for new truckers. They see themselves as being under-valued members of their community who are underpaid. They, like any other profession, get angry when they see their position being diminished. They get angry at the people they can see, not the owners hiding in the corporate offices.
Interestingly - as my driver was complaining about people not following the rules, he told me that his truck was significantly over-weight and that if he got caught he would be fined thousands of dollars. He was not worried as he knew how to get around the scales. A friend of mine later told me that these big trucks are causing a lot of damage on the secondary roads of the province as they are hauling far heavier loads than the roads were designed for.
MY driver let me out on the west end of Swift Current. It was a small truck stop with not a lot of traffic. The wind was back in full force.
Tuesday, July 10, 2018
No More Greyhound Buses
Greyhound Canada have just announced that as October of this year, all of their Western routes will be terminated. There will be no Greyhound buses running in the four western provinces. It is hard to blame a corporation for cancelling a product line when it is no longer profitable, but the consequences of Greyhound's decision is far reaching and, it could be argued, affect the well being of Canadians. While I generally dislike the government bailing out for-profit corporations, I think an argument could be made that someone needs to do something.
I am not a fan of Greyhound buses. It is true that on a couple of occasions finding a seat (at least twice in the middle of night) on the Greyhound has, if not actually saved my life, made it substantially easier. But the buses are cramped, sometimes dirty, frequently smelly and no one I know has ever said they were fun. Going across Canada on a Greyhound bus may be the worst possible way to travel. But they are cheaper than any other form of travel and go through towns that larger systems (e.g. Via rail or airplanes do not). For a number of Canadians it is the only way that they can afford to travel and to get to where they need to be.
Take for example a gentleman I met in Golden at the Husky restaurant late one evening in June. He lived in Cranbrook - (the southern end of BC) and needed to get to Salmon Arms (about 500 km away) for his father's funeral. He had no car. Greyhound was the only way for him to get there. Not the best way or the cheapest way - the only way. This time next year, that man would not be able to go home for his father's funeral. Young people travelling out west to pick cherries or to do tree planting, young moms going from one city to another to visit family or people travelling to find a better job will no longer be able to do so. Yes there are airplanes or trains and if one books months in advance they are fairly economical - but for many people, booking four months in advance is not an option. And even if booking ahead was possible - Greyhound is still cheaper.
I am not sure how people will travel from Calgary to Edmonton, or Revelstoke to Calgary or Portage to Brandon if they don't have a car. There are thousands of Canadians who at least on occasion need to use an intercity buses to get to where they are going. Ideally smaller bus lines will fill the vacuum for the shorter routes but on the trans-country or near trans-country routes I am not sure if anyone will.
While I am sure it is not intentional, Greyhound's decision affects only poor people, people who cannot afford a car, people who if there was any choice would not ride the bus. People with access to money drive or fly or if they have lots of time, take the train. By limiting access to jobs, visiting family or any of the other reasons why people travel on buses, we are ensuring that our society remains divided between those who have and those who do not.
The Canadian government has ignored the steadily worsening state of our Canadian passenger train system and now they will (and perhaps can) do nothing to help maintain a bus system. But the cynic in me wonders if someone wants the poor folks to not communicate/socialize with others like themselves. It is so much easier to both divide and conquer and ignore those folks when they can't share their stories.
I am not a fan of Greyhound buses. It is true that on a couple of occasions finding a seat (at least twice in the middle of night) on the Greyhound has, if not actually saved my life, made it substantially easier. But the buses are cramped, sometimes dirty, frequently smelly and no one I know has ever said they were fun. Going across Canada on a Greyhound bus may be the worst possible way to travel. But they are cheaper than any other form of travel and go through towns that larger systems (e.g. Via rail or airplanes do not). For a number of Canadians it is the only way that they can afford to travel and to get to where they need to be.
Take for example a gentleman I met in Golden at the Husky restaurant late one evening in June. He lived in Cranbrook - (the southern end of BC) and needed to get to Salmon Arms (about 500 km away) for his father's funeral. He had no car. Greyhound was the only way for him to get there. Not the best way or the cheapest way - the only way. This time next year, that man would not be able to go home for his father's funeral. Young people travelling out west to pick cherries or to do tree planting, young moms going from one city to another to visit family or people travelling to find a better job will no longer be able to do so. Yes there are airplanes or trains and if one books months in advance they are fairly economical - but for many people, booking four months in advance is not an option. And even if booking ahead was possible - Greyhound is still cheaper.
I am not sure how people will travel from Calgary to Edmonton, or Revelstoke to Calgary or Portage to Brandon if they don't have a car. There are thousands of Canadians who at least on occasion need to use an intercity buses to get to where they are going. Ideally smaller bus lines will fill the vacuum for the shorter routes but on the trans-country or near trans-country routes I am not sure if anyone will.
While I am sure it is not intentional, Greyhound's decision affects only poor people, people who cannot afford a car, people who if there was any choice would not ride the bus. People with access to money drive or fly or if they have lots of time, take the train. By limiting access to jobs, visiting family or any of the other reasons why people travel on buses, we are ensuring that our society remains divided between those who have and those who do not.
The Canadian government has ignored the steadily worsening state of our Canadian passenger train system and now they will (and perhaps can) do nothing to help maintain a bus system. But the cynic in me wonders if someone wants the poor folks to not communicate/socialize with others like themselves. It is so much easier to both divide and conquer and ignore those folks when they can't share their stories.
Saturday, July 7, 2018
Death of a Friend
A friend of mine died yesterday . Not a close friend - but a Facebook friend.
I have in the past wondered on this blog about the value of friendships as defined by Facebook. It has seemed to me that the millions of people who were on Facebook, seemingly competing to collect friends, had a poor definition of friendship . That if the only value of Facebook was to keep a marginal, superficial relationship alive - then the social platform was of little or no use at all. I may have to change my mind about at least part of that opinion.
Only twice in my teaching "career" did a student ask if we could be Facebook friends. While both students were in the same cohort, they asked me the question, at the end of term, separately. I don't think I was aware that they knew each other well. I suppose if I had thought about it, I would have said no to both of them. It would have seemed to me to be a bad idea for a teacher to share what few personal details I post on Facebook with students and I don't think I was particularly interested in the minutia of their lives. Both of the students were bright, contributed to the class discussions, handed their work on in time and in general were fun to teach. They were the kind of students who make teaching a joy; something that one wants to do again and again in the hopes that there are other students out there who will be equally as interesting and on occasion, challenging.
One of the students had a boyfriend who was enrolled in another program at the college. I would occasionally see them together in the halls and if we had time we would exchange a few comments about the weather or school work. The two of them helped me feel as if I had a connection with at least a few students outside of the classroom.
That student, after graduating went on to university and studied archaeology. She posted every once in a while and I read her brief notes. I have no idea if she read my occasional notes. I don't think we ever directly wrote to each other. In her third year she posted a note that she had been diagnosed with ALS. Shortly afterwards she and her boyfriend got married.
In the past seven years there have been some fairly cryptic comments as to the challenges that she was facing, with long periods of no comments at all. One of her relatives started a GOFund me account to help pay for her extra medical needs and I, a couple of times, made small donations anonymously, but I had no connection with her except this occasional lurking on Facebook. A few weeks ago she announced in a rather subtle way that she had decided to pass from this earth. Her condition had worsened to the point where she, I suspect, needed total care and could no longer live at home. I suspect she decided to use the option of assisted suicide while she still had the capacity to do so.
She died yesterday, back at home with her husband, her family and her friends at her side. In the past week there have been perhaps a hundred messages and comments posted from people who knew her, with lots of pictures of her and her friends doing fun things. People who could not be there, people who from their comments had lost touch with her or who had not seen her for awhile - got to say goodbye; got to reflect what knowing her meant.
I hope she had chance to read these messages - if so I hope that they made her feel good about who and what she had been; I hope the messages would have eased her passing. But I suspect that being able to post these messages on Facebook was far more beneficial to her friends. In a time when so many of us are physically separated from each other, divorced from the important social connections that should be sustaining us - her friends got to reach out and validate, at least for a little while, both themselves and their friend. They got to share that with other people who were doing the same thing.
Perhaps, in spite of the silly uselessness of pictures of cute dogs and orcas, in spite of the endless re-posting of facts that are neither newsworthy or true, in spite of countless pictures of what people ate or where - Facebook does, at its best, have a use. Like all things - when we share real feelings - connections, regardless of the medium, are made.
I have in the past wondered on this blog about the value of friendships as defined by Facebook. It has seemed to me that the millions of people who were on Facebook, seemingly competing to collect friends, had a poor definition of friendship . That if the only value of Facebook was to keep a marginal, superficial relationship alive - then the social platform was of little or no use at all. I may have to change my mind about at least part of that opinion.
Only twice in my teaching "career" did a student ask if we could be Facebook friends. While both students were in the same cohort, they asked me the question, at the end of term, separately. I don't think I was aware that they knew each other well. I suppose if I had thought about it, I would have said no to both of them. It would have seemed to me to be a bad idea for a teacher to share what few personal details I post on Facebook with students and I don't think I was particularly interested in the minutia of their lives. Both of the students were bright, contributed to the class discussions, handed their work on in time and in general were fun to teach. They were the kind of students who make teaching a joy; something that one wants to do again and again in the hopes that there are other students out there who will be equally as interesting and on occasion, challenging.
One of the students had a boyfriend who was enrolled in another program at the college. I would occasionally see them together in the halls and if we had time we would exchange a few comments about the weather or school work. The two of them helped me feel as if I had a connection with at least a few students outside of the classroom.
That student, after graduating went on to university and studied archaeology. She posted every once in a while and I read her brief notes. I have no idea if she read my occasional notes. I don't think we ever directly wrote to each other. In her third year she posted a note that she had been diagnosed with ALS. Shortly afterwards she and her boyfriend got married.
In the past seven years there have been some fairly cryptic comments as to the challenges that she was facing, with long periods of no comments at all. One of her relatives started a GOFund me account to help pay for her extra medical needs and I, a couple of times, made small donations anonymously, but I had no connection with her except this occasional lurking on Facebook. A few weeks ago she announced in a rather subtle way that she had decided to pass from this earth. Her condition had worsened to the point where she, I suspect, needed total care and could no longer live at home. I suspect she decided to use the option of assisted suicide while she still had the capacity to do so.
She died yesterday, back at home with her husband, her family and her friends at her side. In the past week there have been perhaps a hundred messages and comments posted from people who knew her, with lots of pictures of her and her friends doing fun things. People who could not be there, people who from their comments had lost touch with her or who had not seen her for awhile - got to say goodbye; got to reflect what knowing her meant.
I hope she had chance to read these messages - if so I hope that they made her feel good about who and what she had been; I hope the messages would have eased her passing. But I suspect that being able to post these messages on Facebook was far more beneficial to her friends. In a time when so many of us are physically separated from each other, divorced from the important social connections that should be sustaining us - her friends got to reach out and validate, at least for a little while, both themselves and their friend. They got to share that with other people who were doing the same thing.
Perhaps, in spite of the silly uselessness of pictures of cute dogs and orcas, in spite of the endless re-posting of facts that are neither newsworthy or true, in spite of countless pictures of what people ate or where - Facebook does, at its best, have a use. Like all things - when we share real feelings - connections, regardless of the medium, are made.
Friday, July 6, 2018
2018 On the Road Again #11
I am sure that Morse, Saskatchewan is a lovely little town - most of the towns that I have visited just off of the Trans-Canada are. They have been charming. There have even been a few that I have fantasized about living there. But I, like so many of the towns along my route, never got to see it. In fact I only saw the hundred or so metres around the gas station owned by my previous driver. Morse, no matter how big or small it is, was just up over a low rise. A rise that I had no need to climb.
It was not a great place to stand. Across the road from where I was standing, there was Reed lake - It is one of those shallow lakes that are great for migrating birds and mosquitoes. Just beside me, running alongside the generous shoulder was a deep ditch - partially filled with water. It was the first time that day that I was glad of the wind - it kept the bugs away. Other than local traffic, there was no reason for cars to slow down when they saw me. Everyone seemed to be going a billion miles an hour, most of the cars seemed to have more than one person in them and almost no one even looked my way as they passed. There were the usual number of trucks on the road - but most of them were grain trucks - they all seemed to be in a rush as well. There was a fair amount of local traffic - folks who turned off to get gas and then went into town or else got back on the highway to go back to where ever they had come from. It was a frustrating few hours. I would have walked somewhere but there was nowhere to walk to.
As the sun began to set, the wind dropped, not completely but just enough so that the mosquitoes could find me, and land on me. The silly little buggers did not know that I had spent years living in Ontario and for the most part my skin is too thick for them - or something. I had a few bites, but very little itching. They were just bloody annoying.
I had already chosen my spot to sleep. There was a nice big sign just off the road welcoming me to Morse, Saskatchewan. It had a few shrubs around it and flags flying from a tall flag pole. It was on a wee hill so that I knew it would be dry and it looked as if there was enough of a flat space for me and my little bivy sack.
I tried to hitch well past dusk - I know better. In spite of a street light at the corner, there was no way anyone could see me in time to slow down. But there was nothing else to do and so I stayed. Eventually I admitted defeat for the day and after using the gas station's bathroom and buying something to drink, I went up to my little mound to set up the bivy sack. Of course by that time it was dark and as I had not set it up for a year, I took me longer than it should have to get everything in the right place. I was tempted not to bother with the tent but there will still a few bugs around - nothing interrupts my sleep more than a mosquito taking too long looking for just the right place to get some blood. I also did not want to get wet. The sky was clear but that did not mean that it would stay clear all night.
The ground was hard. Most ground, unless it is soggy is, but this dirt had no give in it at all. It was not the most comfortable night's sleep that I had ever had, but on the other hand - it wasn't raining, I had met some interesting people and if I wasn't where I hoped I would be - I was on the road again - proving at least to myself that hitchhiking is still the best was to travel.
It was not a great place to stand. Across the road from where I was standing, there was Reed lake - It is one of those shallow lakes that are great for migrating birds and mosquitoes. Just beside me, running alongside the generous shoulder was a deep ditch - partially filled with water. It was the first time that day that I was glad of the wind - it kept the bugs away. Other than local traffic, there was no reason for cars to slow down when they saw me. Everyone seemed to be going a billion miles an hour, most of the cars seemed to have more than one person in them and almost no one even looked my way as they passed. There were the usual number of trucks on the road - but most of them were grain trucks - they all seemed to be in a rush as well. There was a fair amount of local traffic - folks who turned off to get gas and then went into town or else got back on the highway to go back to where ever they had come from. It was a frustrating few hours. I would have walked somewhere but there was nowhere to walk to.
As the sun began to set, the wind dropped, not completely but just enough so that the mosquitoes could find me, and land on me. The silly little buggers did not know that I had spent years living in Ontario and for the most part my skin is too thick for them - or something. I had a few bites, but very little itching. They were just bloody annoying.
I had already chosen my spot to sleep. There was a nice big sign just off the road welcoming me to Morse, Saskatchewan. It had a few shrubs around it and flags flying from a tall flag pole. It was on a wee hill so that I knew it would be dry and it looked as if there was enough of a flat space for me and my little bivy sack.
I tried to hitch well past dusk - I know better. In spite of a street light at the corner, there was no way anyone could see me in time to slow down. But there was nothing else to do and so I stayed. Eventually I admitted defeat for the day and after using the gas station's bathroom and buying something to drink, I went up to my little mound to set up the bivy sack. Of course by that time it was dark and as I had not set it up for a year, I took me longer than it should have to get everything in the right place. I was tempted not to bother with the tent but there will still a few bugs around - nothing interrupts my sleep more than a mosquito taking too long looking for just the right place to get some blood. I also did not want to get wet. The sky was clear but that did not mean that it would stay clear all night.
The ground was hard. Most ground, unless it is soggy is, but this dirt had no give in it at all. It was not the most comfortable night's sleep that I had ever had, but on the other hand - it wasn't raining, I had met some interesting people and if I wasn't where I hoped I would be - I was on the road again - proving at least to myself that hitchhiking is still the best was to travel.
Tuesday, July 3, 2018
2018 On the Road Again #10
It turned out that my slightly fond memories of this particular corner in Saskatchewan were somewhat idealized. The wind, if anything, had gotten worse than it had been outside of Portage or Brandon, the dust devils were certainly worse and it was exhausting holding my body upright against the wind. The scenery was not that visually attractive - there was nothing to look at. It was in fact a boring place to stand for an hour or so. There seemed to be a reasonable number of cars going my way but of course I had no way of knowing how many of them were just going a few miles down the road or who was heading across country. I was more than delighted when a car finally stopped.
My driver was originally from Pakistan. His first comments to me other than to say where he was going, was to point out the number of cars that had only one person in it and yet they had not stopped for me. He sounded angry about this. While I may, on occasion, get frustrated at the number of cars that pass me by, usually (if I am lucky) with no more than a passing glimpse out of the corner of their eye and more usually a studied indifference of me, I never get angry at those drivers. It is their right to stop or not stop. I have no right, nor is it very useful, to get angry at them. My driver on the other hand expressed enough frustration for both of us. He was a Muslim - the only Muslim in perhaps hundreds of square miles. He believed that it was his duty, as a Muslim, to help people. He wondered why the other people on the road (he assumed they were Christians) did not follow the teaching of their beliefs. I could not give him an answer.
Although my driver, who had been in Canada for 6-7 years spoke grammatically correct English, his accent still made it occasionally difficult to catch all of his words. But we had an interesting conversation about what it was like to be the only Muslim in his town and the frustrations of working with Canadian Immigration. My driver's family still lived in Pakistan. He was not allowed to bring over either of his two wives. When he said that - I asked him to repeat what he had just said. He explained that his faith allowed him to have two wives but that Canada did not recognize that and therefore he was not allowed to have either wife join him. His "number one" wife had fairly recently just died and I think he was trying to determine if he was allowed to have his second wife join him. He did not seem optimistic. The cynic in me wondered if he was happier living alone and therefore was not trying too hard to have his wife move here. I didn't ask him.
My driver was, like so many first generation immigrants, an extraordinarily hard worker. He told me that he had fairly recently just bought a gas station. He also told me that local people kept on asking him how he could afford to buy a gas station. His answer was clear - work hard and save your money. I suspect that a few of the local people were unhappy that a "foreigner" had bought their local gas station.
My driver had twice told me where he was going. But because I had never heard the name before, or even noticed a sign along the highway, I could not quite understand what he was saying. Again, if I had realized that we were only going 115 kilometres, perhaps I would have stayed just outside of Moose Jaw. However where I got off was Morse, Saskatchewan. The gas station my driver owned was a big Esso with a bathroom and a convenience store attached. As I was there for some time, it became obvious to me that it was the only gas station for some miles and therefore it was a busy place.
My driver has a lot to teach other Canadians. Not only was he a hard worker who understood that sometimes one just needs to stay focused on a goal and ignore the smaller issues, but he also demonstrated that one's faith is not just something to celebrate one morning a week, but a lifestyle to live every day. While I don't usually pay much attention t it, it seemed to me that this trip I had meet at least two drivers who gave me a ride because their faith said that they should help people. Neither of them preached at me - they just demonstrated their faith through action. Nice!
My driver was originally from Pakistan. His first comments to me other than to say where he was going, was to point out the number of cars that had only one person in it and yet they had not stopped for me. He sounded angry about this. While I may, on occasion, get frustrated at the number of cars that pass me by, usually (if I am lucky) with no more than a passing glimpse out of the corner of their eye and more usually a studied indifference of me, I never get angry at those drivers. It is their right to stop or not stop. I have no right, nor is it very useful, to get angry at them. My driver on the other hand expressed enough frustration for both of us. He was a Muslim - the only Muslim in perhaps hundreds of square miles. He believed that it was his duty, as a Muslim, to help people. He wondered why the other people on the road (he assumed they were Christians) did not follow the teaching of their beliefs. I could not give him an answer.
Although my driver, who had been in Canada for 6-7 years spoke grammatically correct English, his accent still made it occasionally difficult to catch all of his words. But we had an interesting conversation about what it was like to be the only Muslim in his town and the frustrations of working with Canadian Immigration. My driver's family still lived in Pakistan. He was not allowed to bring over either of his two wives. When he said that - I asked him to repeat what he had just said. He explained that his faith allowed him to have two wives but that Canada did not recognize that and therefore he was not allowed to have either wife join him. His "number one" wife had fairly recently just died and I think he was trying to determine if he was allowed to have his second wife join him. He did not seem optimistic. The cynic in me wondered if he was happier living alone and therefore was not trying too hard to have his wife move here. I didn't ask him.
My driver was, like so many first generation immigrants, an extraordinarily hard worker. He told me that he had fairly recently just bought a gas station. He also told me that local people kept on asking him how he could afford to buy a gas station. His answer was clear - work hard and save your money. I suspect that a few of the local people were unhappy that a "foreigner" had bought their local gas station.
My driver had twice told me where he was going. But because I had never heard the name before, or even noticed a sign along the highway, I could not quite understand what he was saying. Again, if I had realized that we were only going 115 kilometres, perhaps I would have stayed just outside of Moose Jaw. However where I got off was Morse, Saskatchewan. The gas station my driver owned was a big Esso with a bathroom and a convenience store attached. As I was there for some time, it became obvious to me that it was the only gas station for some miles and therefore it was a busy place.
My driver has a lot to teach other Canadians. Not only was he a hard worker who understood that sometimes one just needs to stay focused on a goal and ignore the smaller issues, but he also demonstrated that one's faith is not just something to celebrate one morning a week, but a lifestyle to live every day. While I don't usually pay much attention t it, it seemed to me that this trip I had meet at least two drivers who gave me a ride because their faith said that they should help people. Neither of them preached at me - they just demonstrated their faith through action. Nice!
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