Crossing the Rockies

On the last Thursday of September I packed up my bags, caught the skytrain to Surrey and a bus to the edge of the suburbs and Highway 1, the Trans-Canada. I walked up the road a K or two until I decent spot to wait. Long straight, wide shoulder before a bend -- plenty of room to stop. The general plan was to hitch rides from one side of the Rocky Mountains to the other, where I had reason to believe a pretty good job interview awaited me in the beaut little mountain town of Fernie.

        I had to wait a little while for my first ride, probably an hour or so, before a black ute pulled up, driven by a paint-spattered construction worker named John, about my age. We talked snowboarding and got all frothed on that. Eventually I was dropped off at Abbotsford, a good 30km ride. From my drop-off point I could see Baker Mountain in the US, covered with snow and looking all majestic. Froth. I walked to a long stretch of highway and put the thumb to work again. Within minutes a blue hatchback pulled into a parking bay up ahead. I wasn't sure if it was for me or not at first, so I went to the window to see what was up. I looked in to see a lady, probably around thirty odd, in the process of chopping up a leafy mix. She offered me a ride, and a joint to boot. Things were definitely looking up.

       We smoked our little jingo and had a good conversation. Anne had been living on Vancouver Island with her husband, but work had dried up there, so they decided to move to Chilliwack, as they had some friends there. Good lady, I hope she does well, and know she will. We exchanged nice words as she dropped me off the exit on the western outskirts of Chilliwack, a bit of a walk from the highway, but another 30km to the east. It was mid afternoon by now, probably some time close to two-two-thirty. No phone or watch, though, so I just had to pull the ol' Croc Dundee.

       On my way back to the highway it finally began to dawn on me that this was going to be a truly epic mission, and I started getting pretty psyched for it. I could see the Rockies now to the East, South and North. I was within kilometers of entering the fabled mountains. I stopped by the side of the road to have a look at my map, have a rest and get some food and water. I still had a thousand or so kilometers to cover to Fernie, but my outlook was buoyed by my two good rides – feeling positive. I found a fresh food market not far off the road and bought a selection of the freshest fruit, a couple of litres of water and some juice. Out the front were these two rusty old wagons, filled with pumpkins of all shapes and sizes – green ones, red ones, orange and stripey ones. It was nice.
        I went back to the highway. Ahead as far as the eye could see were barns and farmlands, cornfields and such nestled in a wide flat valley formed by some humungous glacier, millions of years ago. The sun was shining, life was sublime. I took a good spot and waited. I could see another hitchhiker up ahead. He got a ride in a white ute and that was that. I decided to get moving. The highway was straight and long, wide shouldered and seemingly ideal for rides. Plenty of traffic though, and moving fast at 100mph. Trucks and trucks booming to wherever. I would tramp along a km or so, stop, sit on my bag and stick out the thumb and have a drink and a rest and then go again.

       A few hours of this, and I started to get a bit worried. Nobody had even looked like stopping for ages. I began looking along the side of the road for places to sleep. Another hour and a half of tramping and stopping along the road. Nothing but fast traffic and the occasional beep or abuse from passing idiots. The sun was setting, so I gave up for the night. I spied a good place to kip down right behind me in the ditch beside the road, but I stayed put for the meantime, just chilling on my bag eating an apple, to watch the sun go down behind the mountains. A police car swooped in to have a look at me but didn't hassle me, instead pulling a car over for speeding a little further up the road.

       And so, as dusk turned into night, I retreated to my little ditch, fashioned myself a surprisingly cozy little bed amongst the long wheatgrass at the bottom. I rolled out my sleeping bag and planned my route to Fernie by torchlight. I was fairly tired, but feeling pretty good about the mission. I lay awake for ages, blowing smoke at the stars. Endless trucks thundered past. Eventually I got some sleep, and slept well, before waking up somewhat cold and damp in the pre-dawn light. I stretched out my weary bones, pissed in the bush and brushed my teeth, packed up my gear and made my way back to the roadside. Lollies, an apple and a cigarette for breakfast; thumb out in anticipation of an early ride to Hope, where I planned to get off the Trans-Canada and hopefully escape the intense, fast-paced bombing traffic of the highway for some country roads on Highway 3.

       I did not get an early lift. I did not get a lift for a long, long time. I ended up walking probably 15 kilometers that day, slogging it out along the long straight road. Walk a K, take a break. Walk a K, take a break. It wasn't until mid-afternoon that I got a ride from right at the base of the Rockies with an Edmonton oil rigger named Luc. He was on his way home, traveling Northwest across the mountains towards and through Jasper. I was just glad to be in a car, moving fast agin. We had a few real good laughs. I ended up deviating from my planned path, from Hope to Kamloops, thinking it could well be a better way through the mountains. It wasn't. It was a good ride. I also got some clues to where the big bucks were to be made up on the oil fields of North Alberta.   

       I checked into a cheap hotel, nice for the price, actually, and mulled it all over. I was starting to get a nagging feeling that a change in plan was necessary; and that if I kept trying to hitch straight on to Fernie things would start to go wrong. I could just feel it. I didn't even have a knife in my bag, for chrissakes. Too many schoolboy errors and little signs saying "Don't do it". I sensed impending doom, somehow. So I spent a few days in Kamloops -- max chillin' and reorganising my flightpath. I needed the rest, too. TV in bed, what luxury! I prepared myself for a bus ride to Edmonton. It was time to get serious and get some work. The bus ride was beautiful, the Rockies (especially around Jasper) were spectacular. I mean, maybe not as spectacular as Jindabyne, but still pretty good. Night fell and we came into Alberta and the oil fields. Fires like torches in the darkness. Time to learn a thing or two about oil, I thought.