"Peculiar travel suggestions are dancing lessons from God" - Bokononism
My roomate Ryan and I decided to escape the unbearable grind that is life and go on a 6 day hitch-hiking trip. I didn't tell my mother. I'd rather that she worried about me once she figured it out (I'm a terrible liar) than worry about it for six whole days. Ya, I've hitch-hiked before, but never to this extent. I was especially excited to go with my roommate, who was long lost to the ill fated Republican party. Not only that, but Ryan is an expert hiker, with trips to Canada and Tahoe. I figured that he, the mighty hitch-hiking guru, might elevate me from a yellow belt to I don't know, maybe a purple. Which is nice.
Day 1
Kyle Seymour dropped us on I5 just south of Wilsonville, and it was raining pretty good. Ryan and I smiled like giddy school girls. At least that's what his hitch-hiking smile looks like. With my locks and shadow, I probably looked more like a giddy school girl with too much testosterone... Anyways, soon after Ryan wished aloud that a Honda Civic would show on the road (BMW's don't give rides), one did, and Clay picked us up. Clay was an 18 year old kid going home to Ashland. "No thanks, we don't smoke pot", we said, adding that we didn't mind if he blazed right through the capital. He cracked his window for us, to my secret dismay. He was pretty cool, well, he was "dial", as he called everything that was "pretty neat!". We locked the keys in the car while parked at a rest stop and he almost broke the passenger window trying to reach the handle, which even made the panhandling lady laugh. We are all now friends for life. And he drove fast! 75 mph to Grants Pass. A bum told us "if you don't earn your ass kicking, it wasn't worth the ass kicking in the first place. I earned my ass kicking".
Ryan and I tooled around in GP ("it's the climate") for a couple hours til we called Kelli Roots, who was putting us up for the night. Her mom made a great spaghetti dinner. Ryan thought it was going to be awkward, but I made it through dinner without acting myself (too much) and he and Kelli got along great, talking about Fox. We also ate a lot of ice cream, which made us like each other even more. To kill ya.
Day 2
Kelli's birthday! We took each other to breakfast at Tee Time. Ryan didn't want to stay on I5 as the California staters give you warnings, so we had to make our way west to 101. Kelli warned us about highway 199, saying not to go off the highway for fear of pot-farmers protecting their lots. We walked 7 miles in 2 hours, my juggling of baseballs helping none at all. We made up dream rides, like a guy in a camper driving to his house in downtown San Francisco, who happens to own In N Out and has three daughters aged 19-24, coming back from some sort of rodeo or rock n roll concert. Well we were picked up by an old sage hitch-hiker man with long hair who talked of hitching to Virginia and how hitch-hiking is good for the soul, makes you stronger, and the fact that there's not enough adventure in the world. He took us to Cave Junction, the sketchiest po-dunk town you've ever been too. After a grocery stop and 1/2 hour on the road, this guy named Roger picks us up. I'm huddled in the back seat of his Ford Ranger with a metal detector stuck in my face and he's talking about how they sell natural resources like tumbleweeds on the internet. He smokes two bowls then pulls off onto a driveway under a bridge, saying "how can you get stoned when you're already stoned?", then smokes 3-4 more. He had pictures of JC on the dash and one of those Jesus hats, and he was going to this mission in Crescent City to feed drug abusers and the homeless. He also said "if it's boring, it aint church! what are you going to, a funeral?". Yes, the beats! We are with the beats! Roger says "man, sometimes I just got to go!", and "it was divine appointment for me to paint my truck blue and drive to Georgia, but I didn't do it man!". His driving got on my nerves a little as we were high up in the beautiful Smith River Park. So anyways you should check out geocities.com/rogerroger2000 for a taste of Roger.
The ever delightful/hospitable Kirsten Green picked us up in downtown Crescent City, and she has three little dogs that I love. We had pizza, her dad's home roasted coffee, and another perfect bed.
Day 3
Kirsten dropped us off in pouring rain, which was pretty distasteful if you ask me. Hah, so anyways we're coming up on this hill and I say "Ryan, I remember this from my bike trip. It's the biggest and worst hill between Seattle and San Fran far as the 101 goes". So we walked up and over that damn hill with no shoulder for anyone to pull us over. But I carried the heavy pack to the top of it, turned around, and called it my "biscuit", like Olivia and I always call the Eglon hill at home. Anways, we walked for a long time, often in what ditch there was, and behind guardrails, as there was NO shoulder. Ryan took it all pretty well, and me well I guess I was just earning my purple belt. These girls from Eureka, who were visiting the U of O, they picked us up on the other side after who knows maybe 8-10 miles of walking in 3 hours. So they drove us 60 miles to Arcata, a dial little town that is packed full of hippies. We had pizza at the APD which was great, and decided that with the 2 hours of daylight we'd continue hitching.
Rides got slow and my arms got heavy with all the juggling. Ryan said "regardless of whether or not they give us a ride, we are entertaining the American people". Which is nice. This lady named Anna picked us up, talking about the "lost boys" who stay at her house (homeless kids), the first time she stole a car, etc. She dropped us off in Eureka. Pretty much right away this guy in a blue truck picked us up, he was 4 months out of prison with a great job as a carpenter and who worked weekends with the backhoe he bought with some sort of settlement money. "Why'd you pick us up?" "I pick up hitch-hikers". He dropped us off 10 miles later and drove off as Ryan was grabbing the bags out of the back, which was pretty James Bond / guru of him. "Ok, "so we've got 20 minutes of daylight. Looks like we're sleeping under the overpass". Ya well not when a guy with long black hair and a t-shirt saying "Jesus loves you" pulls up. Name's Woodstock. I sat in back with "Raven", a 5 year old boy who looks like a girl, and 2 year old Gabrielle. When I asked why Gabrielle was swinging her head madly, Raven explained something about things in his head and how he wacks his head on the kitchen table and laughs it off. We were dropped off in Fortuna, not far south. Raven gave me the most heartfelt, caring "good luck" I've ever had, saying it ten times over. We found the 6 Rivers Motel for 60 bones and slept in the same bed for a 3rd night in a row. By now I'm running out of socks. The 101 was way too slow, the San Fran dream was dead or else our first 3 days at school were dead.
Day 4
So we made our way back north. When I did my bike trip, I had to go through Eureka twice and I hated that dirty raunchy white trash methamphetamine town. Here I was, two days in a row, for a second time. "See-ya, You-Reeka". We saw this hitch-hiker get picked up and Ryan said he didn't like the spot, which pissed me off a little but I'm white so I didn't say anything while we walked over this bridge to get another spot. And what did it really matter anyways, what are we in a hurry to get somewhere? So this girl picks us up and she had two dogs, dropping us off 10 miles north in Arcata. We decided to take highway 299 to Redding, wanting to hop on the fast flow of I5. What's the deal with VW vans not picking us up? After an hour of sitting, these two hippy folks picked us up, the lady driver had a 1 year old in the back, named River. These people had the sweetest dreads and a boombox blasting Reggae! So cool and hippy and Ryan's wincing as I say that I think I love hippies now, as he hates them. But whatever. So she drops us off in Willow Creek, giving us her web site - spoonerdirect.org. Yes, she's a tree sitter. So cool. And the drive was beautiful, as was the weather.
Willow Creek is a lame town, and I spent an hour and a half trying new juggling tricks. Ryan and I figured we might be exciting enough to make it in the local paper as a lot of people smiled and waved but weren't going farther than the hardware store. This is where I get my personal best ride ever and we are saved from impeding stay-in-Willow- Creek-doom.
Kenneth is in his low to mid 30's, and he pulls up in a 2007 Lincoln Navigator that he bartered from a guy who owed him money. He's going all the way to Roseburg, some 300 miles away! Kenneth is covered in grease, white t-shirt to his brown Carhartts. He works in the lumber industry I think, purely labor but for $25 an hour. Also, the company lets him work one week in Fortuna, one week in Roseburg - so he can be back with his family. This guy loved to talk and he was so much fun to listen to. I asked why he picked us up, and he told of growing up with his wandering dad, going cross country 12 times, living in the absolute woods, disconnecting with his dad for his kids sake, etc. We talked about de-foresting and mountaintop removal, and he got really heated, saying "I don't care if you take it, BUT PUT THE FUCKING STUFF BACK! PUT IT BACK!" And as he raised his voice he accelerated, which was fine with me he was effing Neal Cassidy for all I cared and these 90 degree turns are nothing as we were in the Navvy as he calls it, plus I'm sure he's driven before. Leather seats! What else? He talked of his boss who killed himself and how he'd made "tetris out of life" (YES!), what he learned from the ocean and "yummy" Mount Shasta and how he kicked this guy's ass in Weed and the mill workers cheered him when he got out of jail, how his "yummy" wife and him play this game called "orgasm" and whoever counts more deer on the road is owed that many um... anyways I said "well Kenneth, we're not playing that game tonight but I'll keep an eye out for deer!"...also, "oh I see son, those are Shitty socks!"... But man, he talked about his four kids and how awesome they were, and the fact that he had a great job, and how effing awesome his wife was, how bad he wanted to see them... and I really envied him in a wierd joyous way. This guy that grew up with a rambling man, no high school, and he desires and gets a family and kids that he can stroll along in marathons, even if he is a smoker! He was brawny and bad ass and when we stopped at the in-laws he pulled the garbage can in, brought wood in, and hustled balls to the wall. He made it sound like he loved his family more than anything. Ryan and I loved his stories and phrases and outlook on life and I wished his wife was cool with us staying the night cuz we wanted to meet his kids and see the dollhouse-chest that he built with Avery (7) for Sophia (10 mo). "We want them to know what Christmas really is man!" Dear Lord I love that man. He played Jethro Jeremiah, who apparently is his brother though he clearly looks Jamaican online.
Megan Servoss, yet another Fox student to accomodate! (Medford) I switched my wet towel with Ryan's dry one when he got in the shower, but he didn't notice which totally sucked cuz it was a great idea. Mrs. Servoss did our laundry, and we got beds again but I slept on the floor cuz I was sick of making other people's beds in the morning, plus they were twin beds so we couldn't snuggle. I mean we might as well use these sleeping bags we've been lugging around, right?
Day 5
So we had pumpkin pancakes in the morning, which is the greatest idea for pancakes. Forget blueberries and peanut butter, pumpkin's where it's at! Man, so good. The Servoss house was fun and we told some more stories as usual. Megan dropped us off at I5 and we walked for an hour and a half, while I verbally confirmed my inferiority to the guru, who is a tough walking hitcher. This guy finally picked us up and took us to Grants Pass, where we hit up Muchas Gracias for a second time. Did I mention I wore the same Carhartt pants this whole time? So this kid picked us up after 10 minutes of walking. Kyle was headed back to the U of O, a sophomore picking up his first hitch-hikers. He was probably the most normal person that picked us up, which is encouraging to the hitch-hiking community. So many cars go by, not knowing that they would be so entertained by a couple of dudes with nothing but stories and thankfulness. Then again there was the I5 killer of the 1970s...
"Eugene Oregon! Eureka California!" We laughed when we realized we had spent so much time in the hippy towns mentioned in Sublime's "April 26, 1992". Southern Oregon and Nor Cal (Humboldt County) was a great cultural experience. So here we got to Eugene, where we stayed with Zach and his friends. Ryan didn't want to share the futon with me, I don't know maybe I was getting on his nerves with my head-banging and complaining about walking so far. I just wanted to cuddle is all.
Day 6
Ryan's girlfriend (also known as Tracy Gilbert) came down to Eugene to visit a friend (also known as Mallory), so we had a ride back to Newberg and the life at George Fox. Rock n Roll.
P.S.
I'm sorry if some of the stories were tedious, and I know this is really long but I wanted to get it all on paper. I tried to throw some humor and special character qualities in, but honestly - you had to be there. You learn a lot about charity and humanity when you take trips like this, and you meet all sorts of people who have awesome stories and outlooks on life. So do it, or at least pick someone up. That is, if you're on a busy freeway, they're shaved and clean, and of course as long as it's daylight. I picked this guy up out in the boonies at 8 one night, that makes me sick sometimes because he was shifty.
But like Kenneth said, "what if you don't give that person money, what if you don't give them a ride? Just because of one person who's abusing your charity? I would waste the money and charity on someone who abuses it, all for the chance that they might be someone who desperately needs it".
As the good book says,
"Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake."
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Initiation
My first hitch-hiking experience, back in October of 2007
This last weekend I hitch hiked from Burgerville (Newberg, OR) to Seattle. Due to the fact that I've told this story 20 plus times, I am writing a note so I can just refer people to facebook.
Setting:
I had ants in my pants... I mean I really wanted... to go home. My little brother had a football game and I wanted to impress my immediate family with my awesome facial hair.
The Ride:
Shortly after posting on Bruinboards, I got a ride offer from someone who will remain nameless. Problem was, she wasn't leaving until 5. So I did the nice thing and offered her an extra $10 (on top of $20) to skip her last class. To which she replied...
"I really don't feel comfortable skipping class, but I'll meet you as soon as it's over in the HMS lobby at 20 till 5. I'm sorry, but I don't what my prof would do, and don't want to risk it!"
The inspiration:
I decided that I had acquired a ride with a fox special. A fox special is a George Fox student with a background including at least 3 but not necessarily all of the following aspects: homeshooled, ultra-conservative, completely adhering to authority, never-been-kissed... that should cover the majority of fox specials. I was forced to revert to an ulterior, almost savage alternative. My best roommate, Ryan Farley, had tales of hitch hiking to canada, california, and back. "Best thing I've ever done", he said. So at 2:30 on an October Friday, I decided to use a little ingenuity, a little inspiration, and a little elbow grease to get shtuff done.
The ingenuity:
People don't want to pick up any old schmuck off the road, so I put some real effort into my appearance. I decided to go with my orange "ORPHAN" shirt, as well as a sign that read "Seattle or Bust"... Having topped it off with a Cubs hat, I ventured down to Burgerville... to help my all-American image.
The elbow grease:
Someone once said the beauty of fishing lies in the cast... I found that the beauty of hitch hiking lies in the juggling. Yes, I juggled 3 baseballs as I waited for my first ride. I don't know if you've ever seen that gay, gleeful smile I get when I'm absolutely satisfied with something I've created, but I was wearing it. My operation worked like magic, as I got my first ride before 2 light revolutions, a total of 3 minutes.
"Want a ride to Portland"? A couple cable guys were just getting off work. We detoured to Beaverton to drop off Andrew - a pitcher in the Rangers organization for 3 years (see how the baseballs worked out?). We talked some baseball, some racism, and some rap. Then it was just "D" and I, on our way to Jantzen Beach. D happened to be of African descent, which plays into my story. He decided we could save 1/2 hour by detouring off of I5 through NE Portland. Down Mississippi Street he pointed out which blocks were owned by which gangs, where to get your dimebag, and the fact that "the media is out to make you think that you'll get shot if you come out here, when in fact that only happens if you screw with the "code of the street"... D was awesome, and after some heart to heart on the birth of his daughter changing his life and his self absorbed ex-wife ("I got custody now"), I respected him and was thankful for the tour of black Portland. He let me off next to I5, just before the border.
Washington beats Oregon (less sales tax):
This time it took 7 minutes to get a ride. I was getting that stranded, excited feeling when Eric pulled over. My arms were tired of juggling and I didn't mind sitting in the same seat as his dog.
First impression:
Eric was 26. He had a nappy beard, tattoos, an ash tray full of cigarette butts, a box of Remington shells, and a giving heart. Hitch hiking makes you realize how people either a) aren't generous or b) are too scared/lame to do something awesome and different with their day.
Didn't give the gun shells a second thought...:
Eric was a hippy type hunter. Here are his special characteristics: he hitchhiked for two years (to Boston and back more than once), he worked for an environmentalist logging company, and he rocked out to Folk music. I was down. After stopping at a gas station i noticed a bicycle tattooed to his knuckle. He said he'd biked down the Oregon Cost on the 101 - exactly what Bo, Brett, Kyle, and whoever else and I are doing this summer! You've got to love those moments that make you believe in Destiny.
100 miles to go:
We talked about football, hunting, dogs, George Bush, the fact that attitude means more than attire, whether to take the 405 or the I5, 107.7 The End, and the notion that people are unnecessarily paranoid about hitch hiking (just like D, he blamed the media). I couldn't help falling asleep for10 minutes, which coupled with the Remington shells is kind of scary, but whatever. After I woke he had his 4th cigarette, and I couldn't help it anymore. So I asked him for one. Nasty Nate Brown, hitch hiking down I5 for a little ingenuity and 10 minutes of waiting... and getting a free cigarette out of it all! Eric dropped me off at the ferry, Sarah the dog took a potty break, and I got a good handshake from a nice, introverted guy that just wanted a little company on his drive.
God bless:
Ryan Farley, hitch hiking, people who pick hitch hikers up, and the casino shuttle that got me into Poulsbo. And the poor people that work at McDonalds. And the Big Mac. And my friend Justin, who wants to hitch hike to California. I'm down, and you should be too.
My mom made me take the Greyhound back. Long live Michael Cera.
This last weekend I hitch hiked from Burgerville (Newberg, OR) to Seattle. Due to the fact that I've told this story 20 plus times, I am writing a note so I can just refer people to facebook.
Setting:
I had ants in my pants... I mean I really wanted... to go home. My little brother had a football game and I wanted to impress my immediate family with my awesome facial hair.
The Ride:
Shortly after posting on Bruinboards, I got a ride offer from someone who will remain nameless. Problem was, she wasn't leaving until 5. So I did the nice thing and offered her an extra $10 (on top of $20) to skip her last class. To which she replied...
"I really don't feel comfortable skipping class, but I'll meet you as soon as it's over in the HMS lobby at 20 till 5. I'm sorry, but I don't what my prof would do, and don't want to risk it!"
The inspiration:
I decided that I had acquired a ride with a fox special. A fox special is a George Fox student with a background including at least 3 but not necessarily all of the following aspects: homeshooled, ultra-conservative, completely adhering to authority, never-been-kissed... that should cover the majority of fox specials. I was forced to revert to an ulterior, almost savage alternative. My best roommate, Ryan Farley, had tales of hitch hiking to canada, california, and back. "Best thing I've ever done", he said. So at 2:30 on an October Friday, I decided to use a little ingenuity, a little inspiration, and a little elbow grease to get shtuff done.
The ingenuity:
People don't want to pick up any old schmuck off the road, so I put some real effort into my appearance. I decided to go with my orange "ORPHAN" shirt, as well as a sign that read "Seattle or Bust"... Having topped it off with a Cubs hat, I ventured down to Burgerville... to help my all-American image.
The elbow grease:
Someone once said the beauty of fishing lies in the cast... I found that the beauty of hitch hiking lies in the juggling. Yes, I juggled 3 baseballs as I waited for my first ride. I don't know if you've ever seen that gay, gleeful smile I get when I'm absolutely satisfied with something I've created, but I was wearing it. My operation worked like magic, as I got my first ride before 2 light revolutions, a total of 3 minutes.
"Want a ride to Portland"? A couple cable guys were just getting off work. We detoured to Beaverton to drop off Andrew - a pitcher in the Rangers organization for 3 years (see how the baseballs worked out?). We talked some baseball, some racism, and some rap. Then it was just "D" and I, on our way to Jantzen Beach. D happened to be of African descent, which plays into my story. He decided we could save 1/2 hour by detouring off of I5 through NE Portland. Down Mississippi Street he pointed out which blocks were owned by which gangs, where to get your dimebag, and the fact that "the media is out to make you think that you'll get shot if you come out here, when in fact that only happens if you screw with the "code of the street"... D was awesome, and after some heart to heart on the birth of his daughter changing his life and his self absorbed ex-wife ("I got custody now"), I respected him and was thankful for the tour of black Portland. He let me off next to I5, just before the border.
Washington beats Oregon (less sales tax):
This time it took 7 minutes to get a ride. I was getting that stranded, excited feeling when Eric pulled over. My arms were tired of juggling and I didn't mind sitting in the same seat as his dog.
First impression:
Eric was 26. He had a nappy beard, tattoos, an ash tray full of cigarette butts, a box of Remington shells, and a giving heart. Hitch hiking makes you realize how people either a) aren't generous or b) are too scared/lame to do something awesome and different with their day.
Didn't give the gun shells a second thought...:
Eric was a hippy type hunter. Here are his special characteristics: he hitchhiked for two years (to Boston and back more than once), he worked for an environmentalist logging company, and he rocked out to Folk music. I was down. After stopping at a gas station i noticed a bicycle tattooed to his knuckle. He said he'd biked down the Oregon Cost on the 101 - exactly what Bo, Brett, Kyle, and whoever else and I are doing this summer! You've got to love those moments that make you believe in Destiny.
100 miles to go:
We talked about football, hunting, dogs, George Bush, the fact that attitude means more than attire, whether to take the 405 or the I5, 107.7 The End, and the notion that people are unnecessarily paranoid about hitch hiking (just like D, he blamed the media). I couldn't help falling asleep for10 minutes, which coupled with the Remington shells is kind of scary, but whatever. After I woke he had his 4th cigarette, and I couldn't help it anymore. So I asked him for one. Nasty Nate Brown, hitch hiking down I5 for a little ingenuity and 10 minutes of waiting... and getting a free cigarette out of it all! Eric dropped me off at the ferry, Sarah the dog took a potty break, and I got a good handshake from a nice, introverted guy that just wanted a little company on his drive.
God bless:
Ryan Farley, hitch hiking, people who pick hitch hikers up, and the casino shuttle that got me into Poulsbo. And the poor people that work at McDonalds. And the Big Mac. And my friend Justin, who wants to hitch hike to California. I'm down, and you should be too.
My mom made me take the Greyhound back. Long live Michael Cera.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)