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Activist Times Inc. kreider
Here is a rather long story about hitch-hiking from Indiana to Seattle.
Something I'd never done before. You can publish it if you like (perhaps
in parts?). You may have seen a couple pictures from this on my website?
On the Road
Written 05/27/99
Revised 01/19/00
Prologue (On the Tracks)
It all started in May 1997 when, a couple weeks before graduation, a
roommate, Tim, came into my room and asked me if I wanted to hop a train?
A couple hours later, and after numerous rounds of Bridge waiting for a
darn train, we jumped a moving box-car with an open door (not a good idea)
as it slowed down around a curve and after a short, but fun ride, landed in
the Elkhart train yard where our car was detached and shunted (an
"exciting" process which ended in our open box car turning into a closed
box car with a jolting BANG!). Within two weeks, I hopped three trains,
once travelling for four hours (from Goshen, Indiana to Anderson, Indiana).
I'd never done it before and have never done it since. Not getting caught
and not personally getting hurt (jumping off a moving train caused mild
injuries to two of my other co-passengers) has encouraged me to explore
other transportation alternatives. The only book I know in existence about
train hopping is The Freight-Hoppers Manual for North America by Daniel
Leon (available by special order I think at Amazon.com - not easy to
find!), and I highly recommend it.
In December of 1998, I read Jack Kerouac's On the Road (highly
recommended). It's a veritable manifesto for packing a bag and hitting the
road. Before setting out I read two biographical books on folk (or
topical) singer Phil Ochs. He was one of the most movement-oriented (civil
rights / Vietnam) singers of the sixties and seventies, and extremely
dedicated. I also read Hitchhiking in America by Dale Carpenter (highly
recommended), so that I'd know what to do.
The university kicked me out of my graduate apartment to put in nice
carpeting (whee!), so I decided to go home and then spend the summer
volunteering for SEAC (Student Environmental Action Coalition) in the
Philadelphia national office. Never having hitch-hiked (not even a short
five-minute ride), with much trepidation, I set out to travel from Indiana
to my Vancouver home. It's rather embarrassing, but I should admit that I
sold out my anti-materialist values and bought a GPS unit (so that I
wouldn't get lost and to encourage me to hop trains - it's very easy to get
lost hopping trains). Garmin III with a built-in-map if you really must
know. If anyone wants to buy a used Garmin III - email me. I also bought
a road atlas which was a very good idea.
The Story Starts Here
05.17 (a.k.a. May 17, 1999)
N41 '42
W86 '14
Today I had to move out of my room and clean it (and the house) by 5:00pm.
I got out before 6pm without hassle, though it was extremely stressful
trying to go through all of my possessions, sort, toss, donate, recycle(!),
ship, and find places to store the ones I wanted to keep. The day before I
drank pineapple juice instead of eating breakfast or lunch and ran off the
excitement energy of moving. About a week ago I'd emailed Goshen College
(my alma mater) friends Bryce and Thomas saying that I'd show up on this
day, so they kind of expected me but being busy with projects of their own
they didn't know what to think. I got a ride from my grandparents
(originally I was planning to hitch-hike to give that a trial run before
setting out on a large journey, but I needed to store some stuff with
them), ate supper with them in their apartment in Goshen (N 41 '34.092 W 85
'48.901), talked (they somehow assumed I was flying home, but didn't ask me
the date -- I thought it was best that they not worry about me so I
remained mute), and then around 10pm got a ride to where Thomas, Bryce, and
Jessica Smucker were staying (house-sitting an 19th century house where a
former GC professor of mine, Jo-Ann Brandt, lived - N 41 '34.764 W 85
'49.773). Thomas eventually showed up and we talked a bit randomly (as
Thomas normally is) and then I saw Bryce next morning.
05.18
I talked to Bryce and Wendell (N 41 '34.785 W85 '49.745 -- who had
finished his final exam) today. Since Bryce and Thomas are very busy with
independent term projects (making a film and doing a photography portfolio
respectively), I decided to leave the next morning on the Great Adventure.
Spent a lot of time figuring out how to organise and work my new backpack.
I was very glad to learn that my sleeping bag fits (barely) into the lower
compartment of my backpack. Talked to Jessica about hitch-hiking as her
brother, Matt (whom I'd last seen throwing blood on the Pentagon), hitched
frequently (and that very next day was going from MN to IA).
05.19
I slept in, took a shower, finished packing my bag. As agreed yesterday I
called Wendell and he gave me a ride to the closest toll road entrance.
The Bristol entrance was around 15 miles away. I arrived after 1:00pm. I
had a sign that said 'WEST' made-up of a piece of paper on pizza box, a
little string, in black felt. I started off trying to get a ride from the
cars coming from the South, before the actual entrance to the toll road
(and safely out of sight of the toll road employee(s) - N 41 '44.267 W 85
'47.804 taken at 1:30pm). My visibility and traffic was good and there was
a nice shoulder for cars (or trucks) to pull off, before they made the turn
into the toll road entrance. The disadvantages of the location were that
most of the traffic (75%+) wasn't going on the toll road, so I was thumbing
a lot of vehicles who wouldn't even consider picking me up. Also I was
missing all the vehicles (perhaps 1/3 of the total) who were coming from
the North. Regardless of those factors I was offered a ride within four
minutes of starting!!! That was extremely encouraging. However since the
person was going on Michigan 12 (an East-West two laner) I turned them down
and changed my sign to "WEST TOLLROAD". Later on I was offered two other
rides by people going north, who must have not read my sign (?) so I
refused them. After over an hour and a half of no luck, I wandered over to
the turnpike, but was told by an employee to stay off it. So I took up my
courage and hitched a couple hundred feet in front of the entrance (N 41
'44.329 W 85 '47.693 3:33pm). Visibility was decent (not the best since
drivers were driving at a 90 degree angle), the shoulder was fair (traffic
had to slow anyways for the toll booth), and I'd maximised the number of
drivers that saw me. After not too long (half an hour or so), a trucker
pulled over. To my great joy he was going to Wisconsin (!!!), and since he
looked 'ok' I hopped in. I'd waited about 2 hours and a quarter.
We took the long route (an extra 30 miles or so) to avoid the Chicago rush
hour. We went West until 39 and then North to Rockford to rejoin 90. By
8pm we were at N 41 '43.424 W 89 '00.424, stopped at a random truck stop
in nowhere particular. We stopped once since their was a scales ahead for
the trucker to update his logbook (there's a big fine if they check and you
aren't current), and another time to find something related to paying gas.
The trucker was probably in his early 30s. He had been driving since Long
Island and was going to near the Twin Cities, right on the Wisconsin /
Minnesota border. His truck was a bit smaller than the typical semi, and
he said there was more money in driving smaller trucks. There were six
packs of Marlboros on the dash. Tapes and papers and pop bottles and more
strewn around. He said the last trucker had left it a mess.
Self-described as crazy. He listened to heavy metal and comedy tapes (some
Eddie Murphy and other material that was generally crude with lots of
swearing). Though interestingly one of the tapes we listened to was by an
alternative Christian band, which he had a friend in who was dying (and in
a wheel chair). He enjoyed making snide crude remarks on the CB. Had a
small pin-up calendar (naked women) by the dash. He was from LA and
half-Mexican (on his mom's side), had been stabbed six times - probably
because as he related, he would go on drinking binges and spend all his
money and get too violent for his friends when he went home. His main goal
was to drive trucks until he was rich. He claimed girlfriends in every
state he frequently drove to and used his cellular phone to talk to two
friends and to get a date from a sister of one of his best friend (an
African American - more proof that he was willing to transcend racial
barriers). He wasn't allowed to drive in California due to a prior
accident and mentioned that some drivers deserved to get hit for their poor
driving (we did have one or two vehicles pull in front of us rather
dangerously). He'd been driving a couple years and didn't own the rig. He
had hitch-hiked before and that, combined with a general fearlessness, must
have been why he picked me up. He offered me what he called a 'speed
pill', from a small container of them. While cleaning up the truck he got
me to throw out the window some used drug paraphenalia which he said his
brother, a pot-head, had used last week in the truck. He was generous and
offered me a meal, though I said I wasn't that hungry and had some food (as
I did). He also tried to get me (and a person he was calling on his
cellular) to take a trucking job, as he or his company had a rig that
needed a driver and he was moderately persuaded that trucking was a good
profession (perhaps the money was the good in it). He appeared to be a
little nervous agitated, like he was on some kind of substance to stay
awake. But I never saw him take anything and he did a fine job driving.
Except for the stops (one to fill up with gas) we kept going and did a good
speed (a little over the limit). It was tempting to stay with him through
Wisconsin, as we would have arrived around Eau-Claire in the wee hours of
the morning, and it was great luck getting a good ride as my first one, but
I decided to chance it and got let off in Rockford, Illinois to surprise
visit a friend.
At 9:40pm he left me off at the first exit after we rejoined 90/94 (N 42
'16.255 W88 57.829). Turns out the next exit would have been about a mile
closer. I walked about 4 miles. I was in a t-shirt and long pants, but
sweating because it was a lot of work carrying the backpack, especially up
hills. I didn't have a map, so I used the GPS unit to figure out how far I
was and relied on memory to guess where to turn. Fortunately I found the
roads where I needed them. Krista's house was actually 500 feet away from
the predicted geocoded location, but I was able to find it by its address
(reading mailboxes in the dark with the illumination of the Garmin III
unit). I arrived at her house at 10:55 (N 42 18.392 W 88 55.553). She
wasn't home, but showed up later. The most funny thing was that she'd
actually passed me while I was walking to her place, hadn't recognised me
(it was very dark) but had joked to her friends that it might be me since I
was hitching home!
I decided to try the northern route through Canada, hoping to swing up to
Winnipeg and see a number of large Canadian cities and provinces that I
hadn't seen before. I slept on a comfortable couch and washed my hair (all
of this time hitching I looked like a pretty "straight" kid - except for
the beard).
05.20
I replaced my three bottle 1.5 L water system, with a 1L bottle to save
weight. That morning Krista gave me a ride to the nearer toll road
entrance on her way to work. At 11:59am I was at N 42 19.176 W 88
57.737. I was at the entrance to the toll road going North / South. It
was an automatic toll road, so there weren't any employees to see me.
There was a lot of traffic, good visibility (I stood right in front of the
no hitch-hiking sign), and a decent shoulder. Though the area (suburbia /
midwest) might have been bad for getting rides. I did see three police
cars, one of which went by me and then did a turn around and headed at me
at full speed! They must have had a call or something since they didn't
bother me. I acted nonchalant at first (looking at the ground, stopped
holding out my thumb) when I saw them, to prevent directly antagonising
them. It took a long time to get a ride. I think I was offered a short
distance ride (or two?) which I refused. Eventually I was rather fed-up of
standing outside (it was warm and I was getting a bit thirsty but with a
nice wind), and I did have a bit of a sun-burn from the previous day so I
took the next ride which was with two guys after having waited a little
over two hours. For a while I was wondering if I would still be there when
Krista was done with work! I was still not sure how viable hitch-hiking
was as a form of travel. I had doubts that I would make it, expecting that
it was more likely that I would give-up and take the next Greyhound to
Philadelphia from somewhere a little West of Indiana. I got a 'seat' in
the back of a mini-van with a dog and a rusty bike. They didn't go that
far, just into Wisconsin. We didn't talk much. It was the only time I was
picked up by two people. They gave me some Mc D french fries which were
good.
At 2:30pm we arrived at N 42 31.586 W 88 58.662 just over the border near
Beloit. Hmm
I'm forgetting one of my rides here I think, at least the
'who' it was part
I swiftly got another ride (like within four minutes)
and by 3:00pm was in Janesville (N 42 43.461 W 88 59.605). Now here I'm
not sure whether I got a separate ride in Janesville or whether I was with
the same guy until Madison. My guess is that I got a ride here to Madison
hitching from N 42 43.470 W 88 59.608 (at 3:01pm). From here I relatively
quickly (within half an hour I think) got a ride with a pharmacist who
worked in K Mart and went to Madison. He had just finished working and was
in a bad mood as he really didn't enjoy his job. My guide to hitch-hiking
book mentioned frustration and people getting off work as good
possibilities for rides, and he fit that model. To my greatest fortune, he
was an amateur radio operator and had both a ham radio (with scanner
coverage) and a CB in his vehicle. We saw a truck with Fargo, ND on the
sides and he tried to page them on the CB to get me a ride. He had
previously tried the ham radio (likely the 2 meter band) to see if anyone
was listening and going my way. We didn't get a reply from the truck, but
got one from another one. He sold me as a college student trying to go
home to the west coast and that worked well. So he let me out at a truck
stop a little past Madison, where I met up with the truck driver at around
4:27pm (N 43 10.986 W 89.19.375).
The driver was in his fifties. Heavy-set. At Madison he stopped for supper
(a LARGE steak - he stopped here often enough to have entered the drawing
for a huge steak, but never to yet have won), gas (what's a couple hundred
gallons?), and a shower. That was fine with me since I was feeling
incredibly lucky to have a ride to ND of all places!!! By now I was
convinced that hitch-hiking, be it by some flukish magic or not, was a very
functional proposition. The normalness and niceness of the drivers was
refreshing. This driver seemed to have been driving for a while (10 or 20
years or more) and seemed very safe. We talked a bit about communities
(did a little moralising on our society needing it) as he had hauled some
stuff for Hutterites before (they had a colony in Wisconsin), and suspected
I might be Amish (perhaps the beard?). In fact I'm Mennonite. The Amish
broke-off from the Mennonites a couple hundred years ago in opposition to
the use of certain forms of technology (whereas most Mennonites will use
cars, computers, etc). Either the Hutterites or perhaps the Amish made
wood houses for people, he'd haul the wood (to as far as Maine) and they
would set it up for free if someone would provide them with housing and
food. I had a harder time talking to him than a lot of the other people
since we had a big age gap and were quite different. We talked about
general stuff like trucking, weather, geography, CB, hitch-hiking, and I
forget what all. At 11:10pm we were past the Twin Cities, near St. Cloud
at N 45 21.981 W 93 58.585, clearly making some progress! Wisconsin was
much nicer as there were good tree cover on rolling hills. It also became
more rural with much less traffic. We stopped an hour or so outside of
Fargo (probably around 1am) for five hours of sleep. Most trucks have bunk
beds in them.
05.21
We arrived in Fargo before 8am. At 7:56am I recorded the truck stop where
I was let out as: N 46 51.055 W 96 51.731. I went to the bathroom and
maybe got a soda. Then I tried to get a ride at the BIG truck stop. At
this time I gave up on going through Canada, deciding I'd make the best
time taking 90 as it went directly to Seattle. I could have taken
Interstate 29 to Winnipeg, but didn't. There were probably fifty trucks
there. Likely a lot of people getting up for the next day's ride. I asked
one guy in a truck which said Washington, and there were a couple
Washington trucks. He smiled but said he was going the other way. I was
told-off by a guy in a pickup that I wasn't meant to be soliciting at the
truck stop. I doubt he believed me when I said I hadn't seen the
no-soliciting signs (but it was true!). My goal at this point was to get a
ride all the way to Seattle. I was young, a little, but not too, naïve and
feeling good. My hitching spot was pretty bad. I first tried to hitch
near the entrance, but there was a lousy shoulder especially for trucks if
they'd want to pull off. I eventually moved to directly target traffic
coming out of the truck stop which could stop with less problems (as they
would just be picking up speed and have to stop to turn anyways - stopping
trucks is problematic since they have at least eight gears they must shift
up through again). I waited a while. Eventually an older guy walked up to
me (hardly no-one was walking around as we were on the west edge of town,
an area like Grape Road South Bend - aka strip malls) and asked for money
to buy coffee. I gave him a dollar and joined him since I didn't have
anything to do and to sit down. I was a little cold as it was very windy
(especially when I started around 8am or 9am before the day warmed up). He
offered to try and find me a ride when I said I'd been kicked out of the
stop, though I don't know if he would have done that good a job, so I just
joined him for coffee.
He got a discounted small pitcher (they gave it to him for a dollar). He
was a Vietnam vet, probably in his late forties or fifties. He'd been
wandering around for years and looked like a real hobo. He'd hopped
trains, hitch hiked, walked, and was currently planning on leaving Fargo
for elsewheres. He had some benign cancer (?) for which he'd gotten
treatment. He was disturbed, making random comments and mentioning
subliminal messages. Possibly schizophrenic but I have very little
experience with identifying that trait so I wouldn't know. When talking he
would look straight ahead, not at anything in particular, not at me. I
asked him about the train and he said it was a straight ride from here out
west, but that the trains didn't slow down often in Fargo and he wasn't
sure where they did (change crews). He had an assortment of stuff in his
pockets. He gave me a feather (probably goose, but he originally thought
it might be an eagle one) as a 'sign of friendship' and a wampum bead.
Both of which he'd found on the road. He always had a walkman (AM/FM no
cassette) with headphones on his ears. The walkman was very interesting as
it has a collection of short long things and rubber band types things
attached to it, almost like they were keeping the thing together, but they
seemed inadequate or very clumsy if that was their intent. He talked a
little about his friends who were wandering around. I mostly listened. He
offered me a fake ID to sell, which I declined. Eventually he left to get
lunch at the Salvation Army and I returned to the road.
When I wasn't really expecting it, possibly going through my bag for
something or other, I got a ride from a young guy in a car going across
most of North Dakota. He was on his way from South Dakota up to Williston
(about a ten hour or so drive) to take up a position as a Youth Minister.
He'd become a Christian about three years ago and that's why he picked me
up. He was easy to talk to since he was my age and we could discuss
religion and like subjects. I was the third hitch-hiker he'd ever
picked-up. He offered me some food and I ate of his good oatmeal (somehow
it was moist! - I was travelling on dry oat meal, chocolate chip cookies,
nuts, and dried fruit). I refused to share his ham-sandwich which he
almost didn't eat when he found out I was a vegetarian (!!!), but then I
assured him that I wouldn't be offended and when he found out I didn't eat
cheese, eggs, milk, etc - he justified it to himself. I originally thought
I should get off in Bismarck, as that would have been a good place to get a
ride if I had to stand at an entrance to the inter-state - but as we missed
the truck stop turn-off (there was meant to be one on the west side of the
town), I decided to go the extra 90-some miles to Dickinson with him. We
almost ran out of gas (about half-way into the empty zone) somewhere before
Dickinson. Some of the exits had 'no services'. We were in the boons.
The countryside was pretty boring. Mostly range country with some cows.
Very rural and not too much traffic.
In conversation we actually agreed on the general idea that the Bible
implied Christians should work for social justice. He believed in all of
the Bible so we disagreed on some things and discussed (mildly arguing)
homosexuality for a while. He had a very newly found girlfriend who was
studying in South Dakota - and by moving to work they were going to be
separated by quite a bit. At 4:23pm I was by Dickinson at N 46 53.785 W
102 47.740. Dickinson was the boonies! Not completely but getting there.
I walked out onto the turnpike to get a ride (before I had always
hitch-hiked at entrances as hitch-hiking on the turnpike in many states is
illegal). There were rains coming from the west and you could see the dark
clouds (and possibly even the rains) in the distance. After maybe half an
hour or so, I got a ride. It was a short one but well worth it as we drove
through the rains which could have surprised me (it would have taken me ten
minutes to get to shelter). The person who picked me up was a local. We
talked mostly about the geography as I began to admire the countryside
particularly as we entered the Little Missouri National Grassland and
Theodore Roosevelt National Park. There were nice buttes - or whatever
they are called. Saw some wild buffalo and horses. Unfortunately he only
took me 37 miles and dropped me off in the middle of the park, where I just
missed a friend of his who would have picked me up (he saw him drive by).
At 5:21pm I arrived near Medora at N 46 55.895 W 103 33.412 hopped a fence
and walked around for an hour or so. At 5:58 I sat on top of a hill, the
highest for a couple miles. At N 46 55.981 W 103 33.613 around 2600 ft
(though my altitude meter fluctuated from 2450-2800). I ate some food,
drank a little water, and wrote my cousin Kara a letter (she was in
Abidjan, Ivory Coast) as some dark rain clouds approached but fortunately
missed me as they headed north. I climbed down the hill, walking and
clambering down a gully. Because it was a gully and it had recently
rained, it was muddy and I got dirt in my shoes and shoes stuck a little in
the mud. A little bit after getting to the bottom, by the side of the
turnpike it began to rain. Then the rain mixed with pea sized hail. I
crouched down and covered myself and my backpack with my jacket as there
was absolutely no cover around. My ten-year old jacket got very wet in the
process though I mostly stayed dry. I was rather thirsty so I ate a little
hail (it was nice and cool and good and I was running pretty low on water).
I then tried to hitch. Visibility and the shoulder were good, but the
traffic sucked. I waited over two hours without anyone stopping!
Eventually it got too dark so I stopped trying. I tried to walk a bit,
thinking I might be able to find a place with a bathroom and some water -
but eventually (after 2 or 3 miles) gave up on that as it was pretty tiring
and around 11:13 p.m. camped on top of a nearby hill (not the tallest one)
at N 46 56.215 W 103 35.736.
I slept pretty well, cocooning in my sleeping bag which was adequately
warm. The ground was a little lumpy, but it was ok. It also became very
windy in the wee hours of the morning (and I was on the top of a hill -
which was probably pretty stupid) and I feared that rain was on the way!
But it wasn't. It probably went down to the 40s.
05.22
Next morning (perhaps around 9:30am) I wandered down to the highway and
fairly quickly got a ride (within half an hour or so). I was very
fortunate to find a truck driver going to Portland! All the way to the
west coast, though a little south of where I wanted. He was from England,
had travelled around Australia, Canada, and was now staying in the US. He
became a truck driver last September when he lost a lucrative power-line
(maintenance?) contract. Since he needed more money to support his EIGHT
kids, he was training to be a helicopter pilot. He picked me up because he
was a Christian (relatively morally conservative one) and he said that.
Maybe too because he'd also wandered around. He wanted to move out from
Wisconsin to North Dakota or Montana and really liked the mountains.
Unlike other drivers, he was athletic and was planning on going on a good
jog once he reached Portland. He even had a little barbell weight to lift
with one of his arms while driving. By 2:37 p.m. (or 1:37 as the time
changed somewhere in mid North Dakota) I was at N 46 16.153 W 106 18.349,
part way into Montana. By 6:57pm (I've now switched to central time) I was
at N 45 45.845 W 111 11.164 a little bit before Butte where we spent the
night. I ate more snack food (granola, chocolate chip sesame (seed and
oil) chopped walnut applesauce coconut maple sugar clear the fridge special
cookies, dried apricots, raisins, and that was about it!). We both really
enjoyed the mountains and the great views! We went to sleep just around
sunset. I had a little trouble getting to sleep (hey it was only 8 or 9pm)
but managed to do so. We slept at a truck stop where the restrooms were
closed and where for about 20+ minutes a number of young women held a small
dance (several truckers honked at them). Quite strange.
05.23
Next morning at 8:07am we were at N 46 52.474 W 113 53.299 in Missoula.
By 12:55 (or now 11:55 pacific time) I was in Spokane, WA at N 47 35.676 W
117 29.832. I decided to get off there since it was a bigger looking town
(on the map) then anything else near the split where my driver was going
south to Portland whereas I wanted to keep on trucking (unintended pun) to
Seattle. So I got off at the second truck stop on the west side of the
city. There I hitched near the interstate entrance, by a telephone post
that had a LOT of hitchhiker graffiti. Mostly complaining about how lousy
the spot was. Someone had hitched from Kentucky and engraved that. This
was the only hitch-hiking graffiti I'd seen all trip. While riding, I saw
a couple hitch-hikers, but never met anyone. There was a nearby police
station and a no-hitch-hiking sign nearby and a cop car or two passed, but
didn't bother me. It was also right near Spokane's airport, so there was a
LOT of traffic. The pull-over area was pretty bad. I think it took me
about two hours to get a ride. Maybe less. The surprise was that I got a
ride from a woman about my age (first woman driver and only one of the nine
rides). She was a little abnormal, but in the good (non-dangerous) sense
(unlike the first driver who seemed like he could be dangerous - perhaps
when drunk). This was the first hitch-hiker she'd ever picked up, and I
warned her that hitch-hikers were dangerous and that she shouldn't pick us
up! She was thinking that she'd hitch sometime and would want to get
picked up. I also persuaded her as to the merits of train hopping. She'd
just got back from a month or so backpacking around Europe (alone - but had
met people) and showed me pictures of that. I played a song or three on
the harmonica for general amusement (I'd brought an harmonica which was a
very good idea since you can play it with one hand while you use your other
to thumb a ride - gives you something to do). She was a moderately
neurotic driver, focussing as she said on the 'big picture'. As a result
we would often be going the speed limit (or even less) in the left lane and
get passed by a lot of cars on the right. She didn't like driving alone
(another reason she picked me up). We stopped off at a grocery store in
Ellensburg to break the monotony of the ride, and because she wanted
strawberries. I got a grapefruit and two kiwis (Mmm, though the kiwi was
far too sour and eating grapefruit in a moving vehicle is a messy process),
for less than a dollar. We also stopped off by the Columbia River which
flows in a canyon and the area was very scenic. She took my picture there
(hope it and the other seven or so pictures turn out!). And saw some
horses. I forget their exact name but someone either carved them out of
stone or wood and they can be seen from the highway. I called my parents
from a gas station to see if they knew anywhere I could stay in Seattle in
case I didn't get a ride that night to Vancouver. They offered to pick me
up, and I, a bit tired from the vagaries of hitching a couple thousand
miles, accepted and arranged to meet them in Issaquah. By 6:08 p.m.
Pacific time in N 47 32.323 W 122 02.227, my driver let off by Issaquah,
WA. I walked around the town (I did this in a couple towns, especially
during the Greyhound return trip when I spent 75 hours going from Vancouver
to Philadelphia!). A nice place. Very very green. I read some of my
"Canadian Revolution" book and eventually got picked up, hit a Denny's on
the way home (I ate curly fries) and then crashed in Vancouver. End of
story. Or is it?
Finally I'd reached home. AKA N 49 14.629 W 123 11.804 (taken from my room)
Conclusion
Having packed all my food before, I spent around $3.50 on the trip (mostly
on cold pop and the dollar for the tramp). So it's very cheap if you have
the equipment (large backpack, sleeping bag, map). I hitched about 2300
miles in 4.5 days. If you got lucky and tried to get rides at night
(instead of sleeping) you could do it in less. It's more fun and
comfortable than taking Greyhound, though slower as you don't go non-stop
(sometimes Greyhound will let you travel anywhere for $59 one-way - which
is a really good deal if you have a good book and are ok riding buses).
I've heard that hitch-hiking in the South is not a good idea (police), and
that for women it's very easy to get a ride but you should be extremely
selective. All of the people who gave me rides were very nice, though
perhaps the first guy wasn't the safest person. It's nice to know that
there are people in America who will go out of there way to help total
strangers (drivers are known to drive out of their way to drop you off -
the first guy did this a bit).
Note: all longitudes and latitudes are given in minutes (aka 88 '57 is
actually 88 57/60)
Appendix A. "Talking Hitch-hikers Blues"
(written on the road - Woody Guthrie, Pete Seeger, and Phil Ochs all do
several "talkin-blues" songs)
It started out west out on a turnpike
When with a destination I decided to hitch-hike
Made-up a sign, stuck out a thumb, and started this song on my guitar* to
strum
Hitch-hiking blues
<play harmonica ala bob dylan>
(*"gui" is pronounced like "Guy" in french, as in Guy Lafleur*)
Well, one car passed and then another
A truck passed and then another
An hour passed and then another but I wasn't getting no rides
Drivers on the fly, while I stand the interstate by
Going nowhere (fast)
Hitch-hiking blues
<harmonica>
http://www.nd.edu/~akreider
