On the Road Again 2016 # 11

When I sit back and reflect, now almost three weeks since my brief hitchhiking trip, I still marvel how far one person can travel in a day if the hitchhiking Gods are kind. As I got into what would be my last ride of the day, my new driver said that he was going all the way to Calgary and I was excited. I knew I would be getting into that city very late, and at the back of my mind was the slight worry about where I was going to sleep. But sleeping was six or seven hours away and I was ready for another ride where my primary function was to keep my driver awake.

My driver was driving a large pick-up truck. While at other times,  some drivers makes an attempt to clear of a seat for my pack, there was far too much stuff this time so I threw my pack in the back, hoping that I would be able to fish it out when the ride was finished. In some of the newer trucks with the slightly over sized tires it is a long reach down into the bed to grab the pack. As I age and lose a bit of flexibility, it is getting more and more difficult for me to get the pack out. Normally if I have a choice, I prefer to have the pack in the vehicle where I can see it. I am not afraid of the pack flying out of the truck, nor was I afraid of any rain - I just like to be able to see my pack.

My driver was from Transylvania. It was really hard to resist all of the silly vampire jokes that flitted into my mind. However the only time we talked at all about that country was when I asked what language they spoke (answer was Romanian).

It was a quiet conversation, with short spells of nothing being said. Those intermissions were not because we had disagreed or because there was nothing left to talk about, they were just quiet times of relaxing and enjoying the drive. Unlike my first drive of the trip, we made no attempt to discuss how to change the world or even to find a bridge between our two different cultures. At the end of the trip, neither of us knew that much more about each either than when we started out together. We talked about the usual things that strangers do, but for some reason we never got much past that. Maybe it was because it had already been a long day for me, or that I was not as skilled/pushy at prying as at other times- but our conversation while enjoyable and it certainly filled the six or seven hours we spent together - was superficial.

We got into Calgary about 3:00 in the morning. What does one do at 3:00 AM in any city? We had talked about it a few times and I had discussed my various options - sleeping outside, getting a motel, finding a hostel - but all of the choices seemed like more work than I wanted to do. All of the choices would have delayed the next day's start. I asked my driver to drop me off at a 24 hour Tim Horton's. He thought he knew where there was a 24 hour McDonald's that was right near a C train station.  The plan evolved without me doing any thinking or planning. I would spend an hour or so at McDonald's, use the bathroom, buy some tea and then get on the train that hopefully would connect me to the bus heading out towards the Calgary Olympic Park. From there I would start on the last leg of my trip to the Pacific Ocean.

The weather in Calgary  was a lot colder than it had been in Regina just half a day before. It was cold enough that I put on my fleece and just wet enough to put on my rain jacket. Across the street from the McDonald's there was some major construction occurring - the workers being in a rush to complete the night's work before rush hour started. Using the restaurant were a number of the road crew, a bored police officer who had spent the night in her car, with the lights flashing, making sure that drivers in the area were aware that there were some big trucks etc on the road, and a couple of young people who appeared to have spent at least part of the night there. I didn't feel out of place or unwanted. In fact no one paid me any attention.

I did speak to one gentleman who knew the area well. He both confirmed where the C train station was and wished me good luck.

At 4:30 I walked to the nearest station, spent 10 minutes reading the map to figure out which train to take and half an hour later I was in downtown Calgary.

On the Road Again 2016 #10

John dropped me off at the Husky truck stop on the east end of Regina. I had some very mixed emotions getting out there. On one hand, I had had some great rides out of there, some fond memories of warm nights hanging out with other hitchhikers. On the other hand, last year I had spent a fairly miserable 10 or 12 hours there before deciding to walk to the highway. As I stood there, just by the exit, surveying what could have been my home for the next few hours, I decided that I did not want to be there. There were very few trucks in the parking lot, almost no cars in front of the restaurant and the whole place looked unused, unlived in. It was hot, windy and looked really boring. There had to be another way to get to Calgary.

I walked for a few city blocks, saw a city bus, figured out were the next stop was and got on it. Initially the bus driver didn't think I should get on the bus, that I should just try to hitchhike from the side of the bus. I tried to explain that it was futile and dangerous to try - he seemed unconvinced that he could get me to anywhere better. But then, for some reason, he changed his mind and said that it was a long bus ride but that he could get me within half a kilometre or so of the Trans- Canada. I told him that was great. It was a long ride, but he did get me within a long walk of the highway. With a handful of exceptions, I have always managed to by-pass Regina. I am sure that it is a fine city and that it has many interesting features. The parts that I saw through the bus window looked like every other city that I have driven through. Because I didn't have a map of the city, I never quite knew where I was. When I got out and started to walk towards the highway, I was quite surprised to realize that I knew exactly where I was. One my first or second trip out west I had been let out of a car just west of Regina (The driver, a Christian had decided he didn't like my arguments and had abruptly stopped the car and told me to get out). It was getting later on in the afternoon and I did wonder if I would have to sleep under the same underpass.

Within a fairly short time I got two rides, each only for a short distance that helped me get to a better spot down the road. The first was from a former trucker who had been just about everywhere. Somehow we got on to the topic of towns and their symbols. I suspect it was because we were going by Moose Jaw and their large statue of a moose - I mentioned one of my favourites - Moonbeam, Ontario and their spaceship. For the second time on this trip, my driver knew exactly what I was talking about. He did offer to let me have a closer look at the moose but I told him that once was enough.

My next drive was seemingly hardly worth  the effort of getting into the car. The driver was a young man who was driving out to where he went to bible college. We had very little time to talk and where he let me out was a good spot if only because it had a Subway restaurant if I ever decided to stay the night. The mosquitoes were getting annoying and I really didn't want to spend the night in a place where I would have to fend off the silly little blighters. I could have stayed at the quite posh looking Pilgrim Hotel, but it looked a little bit out of my price range. Given the fact that I was in the middle of nowhere, I suspected that the hotel's main attraction was being close to the bible college. Fortunately I did not have to decide about where to sleep as I got a ride fairly quickly, All the way to Calgary.

On the Road Again 2016 # 9

Throughout my years of hitchhiking I have had a number of rides from individuals from various First Nation communities. However, most of those rides have been quite short and I have always gotten out feeling as if there was so much more that we could have talked about. This time I got lucky. My driver, a member of a First Nation community in Ontario, had lots of stories to tell and was glad to share them. He was also very clear in his values and how he approached life. What made him a particularly great driver was not only could he clearly articulate why he thought native spirituality was important, but he was able to debate, to listen to other approaches to understanding life. He may have been one of the most non-judgemental persons that I have ever met. He was firm in his belief system, but he was certainly not threatened by mine.

My driver, John, had, like so many other Aboriginal Canadians, had a fairly difficult life. He had been consumed by alcoholism and all of the consequences of that disease. He had had a number of run-ins with the law and at one point had been at risk of some rather serious jail time. While we did not talk about it, I think he had been married more than once. He certainly had a number of children and grandchildren. In fact he was on a cross country tour to visit various children, grandchildren and cousins. If I had stayed with him all of the way, he was going to end up on Vancouver Island after having seen folks in Regina. Calgary  and a few spots in BC.

While John's original trade was as an iron worker, he had worked in a number of fields, had gone back to school as a mature student and had a couple diplomas and degrees. He was a deeply spiritual man. He, along with his wife, practiced and taught the values, the spirituality and the medicines of his heritage. He appeared to be knowledgeable about plants and their medicinal value. He had had the opportunity of teaching some of his knowledge at the community college level. It was clear from the way that he talked that he lived his life the way he taught it. Open and compassionate. I suspect he was a natural and compulsive teacher. As I am - at least the compulsive part. But there was never any sense of competitiveness between us. He was delight to spend time with.  

At one point towards the end of our journey he said that we had not really solved any of the world problems. I suspect he was right, but on the other hand we had ensured that two people, about the same age but with almost unimaginable different life experiences, had managed to debate, sometimes with disagreement, and to explore those differences. More importantly we had discovered that in spite of those profoundly different life experiences, we had found the similarities in our values and in our beliefs.

There are times where I wish that I had a tape recorder with me as I travelled. There were parts of the conversation with John that I would like hear again. My comments about angels, his about honouring one's ancestors, the importance of having a spiritual grounding, the absurdity of the Canadian government's stand on land settlement, how decisions are made, consensus government in the North-West Territories and so much more all combined and flowed into a seamless piece that at least for me validated the belief that we can live and work together. The single point that I think we would have come to a more serious disagreement revolved in his contention that if the Europeans had never come to North America, the Indigenous peoples would have evolved into a peaceful, environmental respecting small groups. Whereas I wondered if given another couple of hundred years if nation states would have evolved and become as controlling as the European states.

In looking back, I realize that while I have not, in my life, had to accept discrimination or injustices, John had. He had had to learn how to forgive those who had perpetrated or at the very least had allowed those injustices to occur. One can only admire a spirituality that allows a man who, in spite of the challenges imposed upon him by an uncaring society, can still offer help to folks like me.

On the Road Again 2016 #8

The train had arrive early, I was out of the train station by just after 8:00 AM. The sky was clear and I was ready to go. It is always a bit anticlimactic to hike through the train station, pass through the doors, breath the fresh air, turn left and then drop the pack again. For a brief few minutes I felt free and unencumbered by the routines and schedules of the common man. Then I had to wait for a city bus.

Winnipeg has, at least in Canada, the best downtown bus stops. At every stop there is an electronic sign that is updated every minute or so, clearly indicating when which bus is coming. It means that for the traveller such as myself who only uses the transit system once or sometimes twice a year and therefore is a bit anxious, knows exactly when his/her bus is going to come. It makes the whole process that much more relaxing. The bus came when promised, I took a short ride to the downtown core, got off at the right bus stop and waited for my St. Charles Express. It too came exactly when promised by the electronic sign. Portage  Street is a very long street. The first few times I took this bus, I use to get a bit concerned as to how long it took to get to the last stop just less than a kilometre east of the Perimeter Highway and the start of the Trans-Canada. Now I am use to it and just relax, looking at semi-familiar stores and signs. When I went along Portage Street last year they were doing some major reconstruction. I am saddened to report that it felt as if they were still working on the same sections this year. Perhaps they were new sections but they all look the same to me.

I got off at my usual spot, spent the next twenty or so minutes navigating my way across entrances to and exits from the Perimeter Highway. As always these exits and entrances ramps are busy and not made for being crossed over by pedestrians. While I have no reason to believe it, it always feels as if the drivers can't see me, or even worse don't care if I am there. I am more cautious crossing these lanes than anywhere else in my travels.

As I have mentioned in other blogs, cities are getting bigger and bigger. Consequently I have to walk further and further to find a spot where the traffic is less chaotic. I use to be able to stand just a few metres from the last exit ramp from the Perimeter Highway, I now have to walk past two other stoplights to find a spot where at least some of the commuter traffic has been filtered away and the drivers have settled into some sort of pattern. Of course by the time this occurs, most of the vehicles are approaching their cruising speed. It would have been nice if I could have gotten a drive from a trucker coming out of the Flying J rest stop, but I didn't even try. I have never had any luck there.

I was feeling a bit lazy so I dropped my pack earlier than I normally would have. After fifteen or so minutes I picked it up again and walked to just after the next set of lights. Within a few minutes a car quickly, from the outside lane, swerved over to pick me up. (This almost never happens. Cars in the outside lane do not stop for me. It is amongst everything else, usually too dangerous. It happened twice this year). My first driver of the trip west was going to Regina - a ride of almost 600 kilometres. A pretty good start to the trip!