Leaving Alaska, Getting to Canada

I left Homer in the rain, waiting in the driveway for my ride to appear. Nancy, a woman who worked in town, arrived in her car and whisked me away towards Palmer. We stopped briefly to pick up her daughter, and we were off heading North.

I drove most of the way, we stopped once and she smoked me out, we continued. She had one headlight out, and darkness exposed that. As we got into Palmer I kept my eye out for my turn off which I had vaguely memorized from a glance at the map earlier. Right away we were pulled over by a cop working the state fair traffic, it was for the headlight, he wrote a correction ticket meaning she had to fix her headlight in the next two weeks or else a $50 fine would be doled out, to me since I was driving, but I trust she'll fix it.

Coincidentally he stopped us just 50 feet before the road I had to turn off to, we would have blown by if he hadn't stopped us. Not seeing the street number I was looking for I jumped out and let her drive off, I checked my email and got loose directions and found the house without a problem, this was the house of a couchsurfer Mandie had found for us to stay and meet up a night before hitching to Canada, Mandie is a girl form the Collective I met.

I found a note on the door saying to come in and Tara, the host, would be asleep. I walked into a quiet house where I expected to see Mandie, Walter (I'd be hitching with him too), and Nick (the volunteer chef and all around good guy from the Collective). It was just me there though, Tara emerged from her bedroom 20 minutes after I got there, apparently everyone else was held up back in Anchorage from a slow day of hitching and other hold ups.

Tara and I talked for a bit, she was a really nice girl, and retired. She went to Iraq with the air force, when she came back she got hit by a car and suffered some brain damage, she can't remember anything from 7th grade up until going to Iraq, and suffers somewhat random short term memory loss. She offered me pizza in the fridge and some milk as she went off to sleep, I filled my belly and slept on a bed.

In the morning I popped out of the shower as everyone else rolled in, Nick was happy to see his laptop. Manide had hitched out of Homer the day before me with the laptop, she'd accidentally left the case in the first car that picked her up, luckily numbers were exchanged and the guy who drove her came to the house in Homer and left me with the laptop so I could bring it back.

Tara made us pancakes and then we went other state fair, we came home and had burgers, and then Tara decided she'd drive us the first little leg of our trip towards the border. About an hour in we hit construction where all cars were stopped, engines off, waiting in line for oncoming traffic to get the first turn. Manide eventually started asking other cars near us if we could get a lift, a trucker going to Tok finally agreed to take the three of us, me, Manide, and Walter. We said our goodbyes to Tara and saved her some extra driving and hopped into the truck, our bags thrown in the refrigerated back with all the fish he was hauling.

We hauled towards Tok swapping stories with Scott the trucker, he bought us some food and coffee along the way, we found ourselves on our feet again at a gas station just past midnight looking for a place to camp. We found one quickly, set up camp, smoke, drank, and told some stories from our travels. Manide and Walter passed out in Walter's tent, me in my sleeping bag and bivy sack.

We all awoke to rain in the morning, one by one getting up and using the gas station bathroom and found ourselves beneath an overhang repacking our wet gear only 90 miles from the Canadian border. We wandered to the gas station, asking some people for rides, one of us going to the corner thumbing for rides, and before too long Walter found someone to give us a lift closer to the border. An hour later we were at a gas station about 40 odd miles away from Canada.

We warmed up a bit, it wasn't raining now. We asked some people for rides and took turns thumbing at the corner. Walter found another ride, but they only had room for one. Walter took the ride, his visa was about to expire so it was most important that he cross the border, we decided he'd wait on the other side, "See you soon!", he said as he hopped in the car. With only 40 miles to be between us "soon" seemed appropriate, that wouldn't hold true though.

Mandie and I stood on the corner thumbing the cars as they passed, few and far between. After hours we started walking down the freeway for a change of scenary, some forward motion. Still no one stopped, only us every mile or so to rest our shoulders. We played travel scrabble on the side of the road a bit and kept walking. We walked miles more until it got dark enough where we had to start thinking of a spot to camp, there were more gun shots heard than cars seen for a long stretch.

We found a nice spot off the road and started gathering sticks and rocks to make a fire ring, without Walter's tent we didn't have much rain gear and shelter for the two of us really. Manide surrounded our camp site with moth balls, a trick she heard would deter bears, I got the fire roaring pretty good. We enjoyed the fire for a while, laughing at our situation, a car passed and much to our surprise... they stopped, backed up and Manide ran to it. Next thing we knew we were gathering our stuff and hopping into a car in the middle of the night abandoning our fire and campsite.

The man was drunk, his wife was giddy, they lived 3 miles up the road and were offering us a bed in their trailer to sleep in. "You're not gonna skin me alive are you!? If we don't wake up in the morning we'll know what you did!", the guy made the same drunken joke throughout the night. Their son played video games in the background as we went to sleep.

They went to work in the morning leaving us behind to sleep in. When we got up we loaded up on some of the food available that they had offered us, then headed back to the road in the light rain. Very few cars passed us, uninterested. A woman driving in the opposite direction slowed down and stopped looking frightened, asking us if we were ok. She pulled over and said she may be able to make room for one of us and take us to the border, she didn't have any room though, her car was packed with all sorts of junk. She instead gave us a tent and went on her way.

We decided to walk up the road to stay warm, we both knew that we likely would find nothing but more road and trees ahead. We walked, thumbed, rested. Mandie became more hopeless, she thought we may have to walk the next 30 plus miles to actually get to Canada, I was prepared for such an event, but knew we'd get picked up, eventually. She started waiving frantically at cars, just shy of actually jumping in front of them. This actually worked a couple cars later, an RV pulled into the shoulder of the road, slapping huge grins on our faces as we ran forward to it.

Inside was a Swiss couple, we headed for the back and sat at the table with music playing, us smiling at each other and watching the scenary fly by out the window at an incredible rate. We finished our game of Scrabble, Mandie won. We stopped for coffee and talked to the couple more, they drove us right through the border, we crossed without incident, no searching my bag, no asking how much money I may have, easy. Just over the border we pulled over and the couple made us sandwiches and we shared stories.

They dropped us off at a gas station and motel with daylight dwindling, we were finally in Canada, just past Burwash Landing where I had slept one night on the way up to Alaska. We stopped in and Mandie bought a glass of wine for herself, a beer for me, and some fries for us to share. They had a slow internet connection I used to check my email, there were a couple messages from Walter waiting. He'd made it all the way to Whitehorse and was looking at spending another wet night there, he hadn't hooked up with the couchsurfing host we'd found yet. We shot him a message telling him our story and that we'd likely make it there tomorrow.

The guy at the restaurant told us of a camping spot nearby, but after he talked about all the bears in the area, that and the rain outside, Mandie was pulling out her credit card with a room on her mind, they gave us the keys to room 11 and we smiled our way into a nice room with a couple huge double beds. We immediately headed to the saloon before it closed, I had a couple beers, Mandie a couple red wines. We headed back to the room, jumping up and down on the beds, she took a shower, we slept comfortably with a roof above our heads.

In the morning all the cars that were in the parking lot were now gone, we'd slept in, but our spirits were still up. We loaded up on coffee, suasage, eggs and potatoes, then back to the corner with our thumbs. The traffic, if you can call it that, was very slow. After hours of waiting, an RV pulled into the shoulder, we hopped in the pickup truck driven by a German couple towing their trailer home, they were headed to Haines Junction.

We stopped at a rest area for hot chocolate and chips ahoy cookies, something we'd been day dreaming about for days while waiting for rides in the rain. We continued on talking about Austrailia, Mandie's home country, Germany, American politics, and Canadian landscapes. They dropped us in Haines Junction where the traffic was a little more prevalent, we set up on the side of the road waiting for our next ride, a sign saying "Whitehorse 159" right behind us, this of course being Kilometers.

We waited a long while despite the slight increase in traffic, but finally another RV stopped, a husband and wife from Wisconsin headed to Whitehorse for the night. We were excited to finally be getting where we were going, thinking of how we may find Walter. Once we got into town they drove us around a bit looking for the Baked Cafe that Walter had mentioned in his message, when we couldn't find it we hopped out and said thanks, on foot we looked for a spot to use the internet, it was now around 10 at night.

We found a hotel that had wifi, Walter had just sent a message saying he'd be in Titan Comics until midnight, we'd just passed the place coicidentally so we knew just where it was. Off we went to reunite with our friend, the 40 minutes that had turned into over 2 days of seperation. We walked down the steps into the comic internet cafe kinda place to see Walter slumped at a table in the corner, we smiled and shouted, then sat down to share our stories and catch up.

Walter had been sleeping near a model ship in town, he'd never caught up with the couchsurfing host. The people who worked at the ship were nice, inviting him in for muffins when they saw him the morning, they watched movies too. I made a phone call to Caley from the comic phone and left a message when she didn't pick up. We started to talk about where we'd sleep tonight, be it a hostel or camping. Before we came to a conclusion the guy at the resister asked if one of us was Kenny, Caley had called back, I jumped on the phone and the next moment we were headed up the steps waiting for her to pick us up.

Caley took the three of us back to her place, we met her roomate Pam, and the three of us caught up more, had some wine and pasta, we discussed what our next move may be and then went to sleep. We woke up in the morning and headed out to coffee shop to catch up on emails and possibly think of our next move. Nothing is set yet, how we'll get out of Whitehorse, where to next, or when.

This town is nice though, so we'll see how it goes. I love hitchhiking despite the waits you sometimes have to endure, the Alaskan highway is an extreme example of this. I got a message that one of my neglected credit cards may be tied to my step dad somehow, meaning I'll have to perhaps actually start paying montly again, but the details of that are still sketchy. Either way it just means finding a small amount of cash every month, good times are rocking and rolling, eh.

Couchsurfing likes Tripping and the Road needs me

The past two weeks have been spent mostly in and around Homer, Alaska here at the Couchsurfing collective, the house perched atop a cliff overlooking the shimmering water and distant mountains, even a volcano. Inside the house people have been having fun, listening to music, and working on the Couchsurfing project from one angle or another. I was chosen to come here to be part of the tech team, but have done little for couchsurfing itself.

The reason for the little work done is the contract I'd have to sign to do so, the NDA and Non-Compete part of that contract conflict with my site Trip Hopping. None the less, CS (Couchsurfing) has taken an interest in my Trip Hopping site and my ability to create things like that. I've stayed longer than the week I was supposed to in order for us to come to some type of agreement where I could help CS with my ideas, and maybe go as far as merging our projects, so the past week I've had a bunch of talks with the folks here, and of course Larry, my friend in Phoenix who is part of the Trip Hopping idea. Yesterday CS made somewhat of an offer for me to come to San Fransisco to their new base camp and work for them, the details of the agreement are a bit sketchy and still need to be worked out, but it's a pretty exciting prospect.

Today though, I'm answering the defening shouts from the road to ride again. I'm catching a ride from a girl in town to Palmer, a place just north of Anchorage. Tonight I'll couch surf with a couple other people that were here at the Collective earlier, and tomorrow we set out. They'll hitchhike together, Walter and Mandie, and I'll hitchhike on my own in the same direction. The idea is to pick out stops along the way and meet up each night for camping, story swapping and good times.

Loose destinations include Vancouver and Kam Loops, I'm excited to be going anywhere, just going, moving, traversing though the unknown. The future is peppered with excitement and thoughts of things that could be. The CS and Trip Hopping bit is exciting, no matter what happens with that will be a positive, and once again let's me end a post with, good times.

Couchsurfing Collective and a Hobo Video

The couchsurfing collective has been a great experience so far, I've been given a simple tech project to stay busy. I'm one of about 20 or so, and everyone is pretty laid back. The days have been spent coding, drinking coffee, eating great food, and drinking Alaskan beers. Last weekend some of us went to a cabin in Hatcher Pass about 6 or 7 hours north of the house here in Homer, more relaxing and some hiking up into the snow took place.

I'm still unclear as to when I'm leaving the collective, when I'm leaving Alaska, and how. There's been talk of making my Trip Hopping project intermingle with Couchsurfing a bit, and that may involve some kind of trip to San Francisco at some point, but that's still very much up in the air.

While I've been playing with couch and trip code, Sean made a video with pictures I've taken over the past year and music from Cyderobin (Sean and Mark and sometimes a random drummer).



The only thing required of me at any future date is a stop at Men's Warehouse to get fitted for fancy clothes, and my friends' Wedding in Sacramento in early October where I'll wear those fancy clothes. That should be a great time, but for now I'm enjoying playing with code and seeing Alaskan sunsets.

Getting to Alaska from Wyoming with a Thumb

I woke up early in Jackson Hole, a bit tired, but balanced by my excitement to start hitchhiking to the Couchsurfing collective in Homer, a small town in Alaska south of Anchorage. I caught a ride to Idaho Falls from my mom, she was happy to see me visit in Jackson a few days, but then we said our goodbyes again, just me and the road now.

Kicking it Off
I waited a good while on the I-15 on ramp before deciding to start walking the freeway. I didn't walk too far until I got picked up by a sunburned guy, the type of guy I would soon become, he fixed refrigeration systems and wanted something more in life. He took me just a little ways on his way to a job. The on ramp he left me at was obviously dead and I started down the shoulder of the freeway immediately.

Been everywhere, done everything, Mormon
The next guy to pick me up was jolly looking with a jolly chuckle telling stories about all sorts of jobs he'd had and things he'd done. Eventually he started talking a lot about being a Mormon, not in a pushy way, but with genuine interest and passion. I fell in and out of sleep, I'm not sure he noticed or not.

Walk until it gets Sandy
He dropped me off where I-90 (west/east) is one in the same with I-15(north/south) for a stretch of road, several miles I ended up walking instead of waiting around. While I was waiting around the only cars that stopped were going on 90 East, not where I was headed. After what seemed like a couple hours I was past the split and simply walking along the now desolate I-15, thumbing at the cars that came every few minutes or so. Thumb, waive, walk, walk.

Then Sandy pulled off into the shoulder ahead of me and I went running towards her with a smile as wide as the distance I'd just walked. "I wasn't going to pick you up... but then you waived, I just had to stop!", and she drove me further down the road, she could have driven me any distance and I would have been happy about it. She was going to see her boyfriend at his farm house, when we got close she even offered to let me spend the night there pending his approval. I thought about what that night could be like, assuming beer, food and some stories in a farm house setting... the sun was still present and I had many miles to go, I decided to continue on.

I immediately started walking down the freeway again, the cars were far from plentiful, perhaps one car every 5 minutes. I wondered how an interstate could be so desolate, but here I was enjoying my walk and belting out lyrics inspired from the gravel crunching below my feet. Eventually someone pulled over and drove me further, someone always does. From there I walked in busier traffic, got picked up quicker by a younger guy in the moldiest car I've witnessed, he took me 20 minutes down the road to the exit where everyone was getting off.

Great ride to Great Falls
I walked down that stretch for a while, looking behind me at the oncoming traffic that all got off at that same exit, exit 205, very few continued past towards me. The sun was close to down, my eyes were scanning for suitable camp spots in the distance, and then a pickup truck stopped. Inside was an old drunk man driving, his granddaughter in the passenger seat, and a tipsy woman in back with me. They handed me a half eaten burger with fries and a can of Budweiser as they told me they were headed to Great Falls, a beautiful 90 miles down the road.

The girl in front may as well of been 17, she was telling stories of the boot camp she was just now getting back from. We stopped along the way so she could take over driving and the other two stopped in a highway bar for jumbo to-go cups, the woman gave me a taste of her crowne and seven, and then handed me another can of bud.

As we got closer they felt obligated to get me a place to sleep, the old man worked at the state fair and had an empty trailer on site we wasn't using, they flashed a badge to get through the gates and dropped me off there. I now had a trailer to myself, a roof over my head. I enjoyed the novelty of it and passed out on the bed in the back to the sound of the occasional horse passing by.

Burritos to start my crossing day
I woke up in the trailer, I walked through the fair and a mile or so back to the freeway, and walked some more down the road until a pickup truck stopped in the shoulder, I seem to attract a lot of pickup trucks. Inside was father and sun doing a loop in Montana selling auto parts, a monthly routine that would put me closer to the Canadian border. The father spent a lot of time in Reno and told me of some good nights he had there.

Crossing to Canada
They dropped me off at a gas station and gave me a couple burritos. Now that I was close to the border I remembered I still had a little pot left that I ground scored at the music fest in West Virginia. I went to the bathroom and rigged a strap to keep it stashed near my crotch. I walked back to the freeway, my rig fell apart just on the walk over, I stuffed the pill tube of pot back in my backpack and hoped for the best.

After another little hike on America's shoulder an 18 wheeler pulled off, he stuffed my pack in a side compartment on the exterior of the truck and we headed down the road, he was headed for Lethbridge, the first real city in Canada. Corey, he was a younger guy and I heard the first of many Canadian "eh"s in every other sentence he spoke. He stopped just before the border at the duty free shop for 5 cases of beer, and we drove up to the border.

At the booth they asked many questions, since I was hitchhiking they wanted me to go inside to immigration, the trucker also had to go inside after he declared his beer, I grabbed my bag as well in case my deal took longer than his, and it did. I handed a man my passport a yellow paper given to me from the first man in the booth. They asked me lots of questions, he was slightly irked that I was hitchhiking. All was fine until he asked how much money I had in cash and in my bank account, he determined that the combined $140 was not enough, "You're hitchhiking and don't have enough to get out if you're stranded, you can't come into Canada like that."

I thought $140 was an enormous amount of money, it's the most I've had at one time for a while now, he didn't think it was a lot, I was thinking of all the beer and unknown good times it would bring. I lied and said my parents were planning on sending me thousands of dollars when needed, I figured thousands would be a number he liked better. He still wanted me to have them send off a fax saying this was true, he handed me a fax number.

I took my phone outside knowing exactly who to call, not my folks of course, but a man who likes devious plans and had access to a fax machine. He was at work, I told him the story and within minutes Canadian border patrol fell for a hilarious fax from my "parents" with promises of funding their son's journey. After that hurdle was leaped I had the slight issue of the 5 beers being written on my yellow ticket, they'd merged mine and the trucker's issues, the trucker who had now left due to my prior delay. I settled it quickly and walked away from the border happy they hadn't searched my bag and accepted fraudulent faxes. I called my friend to let him know of the success, then continued down this new Canadian road.

Toronto Cop turned Trucker
Just as I passed the weigh station a trucker signaled at me and let me catch a ride, he was headed to Lethbridge. He was a nice guy, an undercover cop in Toronto for years and now retired, but trucking to keep busy. I told plenty of stories, once in Lethbridge he parked his truck and his son picked both of us up in his new fix-me-up pickup truck. They drove me a little further down the road to what they thought would be a better spot for me.

Canadian Rides
I walked a little ways watching Canadians pass me, Canadian mosquitoes trying to get to know me, eventually a pickup truck stopped. He told me I'd love Canada, bought me a gatorade, and dropped me off further up the road.

My next ride came from two brothers, 18 and 21, they were racing up to the big city of Calgary to pick up a car for their boss, they were chosen to do this because they drove the fastest. We weaved through cars racing up the road. We stopped at a Subway and they gave me a Canadian 10 bill, good enough for a sandwich and left me with a little change too. They told me of all the jobs in the area, oil rigs and more, people making 11 grand straight out of high school on a regular basis.

One big city to the next
They dropped me off in Calgary, I walked to the hectic freeway and stood my ground in a small pullout. It wasn't long before an organic fruit van stopped. The driver thought I was crazy for hitchhiking on this road. Cars were weaving in and out of each other like a video game, cutting each other off, some clueless, some reckless. He drove me to the edge of the city giving me the lid of a bin to make a sign to better my hitchhiking, "Unlike Americans Canadian can read". He said it like he was joking, but he clearly had broad stereotypical issues with America, making other comments with buzzwords like "war". You can't label America, for every stereotype and bias made you'll find someone making the exact opposite stereotype and bias, and for each of those people you'll find those who've never heard of either position and wouldn't care either way, it's a country people try to pigeon hole constantly because it's impossible to do so.

After I got dropped off I walked a bit, I ditched the lid he gave me, it would have made for an illegible sign and I'm sure I looked like a maniac on the side of the road with a big blue container lid. I soon got picked up by a trucker headed to Edmonton and was happy. He'd been trucking 46 years, the last 13 in convoy with his wife, although she had passed just two weeks ago.

He dropped off a couple loads along the way, and he dropped me along the freeway in Edmonton long after the sun went down. I cozied into the woods and wrapped myself in a sleeping bag hiding from armies of mosquitoes.

Love Hate with the Boss
I woke up, packed up, and soldiered down the freeway thumbing away. A smaller truck stopped for me, cutting across a couple lanes to pull over. "My boss says I'm not allowed to pick up hitchhikers, that's why I stopped, I'll do whatever he says not to do". He told me all kinds of stories of the boss who pissed him off pretty good, they have one of those love-hate relationships, jawing back in forth getting upset with each other while maintaining an unspoken mutual respect.

Don't cut off my head while I sleep
He dropped me off an hour or two later, again I was walking, and eventually got a quick ride just up the road to a small town called Fox Creek. The next pickup truck timidly slowed down next to me with his window rolled down, the old man looked at me, "You're not gonna cut my head off are you?". I said no and hopped in. Turns out his question stemmed from a story in the news of a guy in a greyhound bus who cut off another passengers head with a hunting knife. Either way he drove me a bit out of his way to Grand Prairie, I slept most of the ride, he didn't seem to mind.

Through the confusion to a great ride
I'd been riding up a road, 43 North for a little while now. Where I found myself now I saw two options, 43 South and 43 East, it made little sense, so I headed in towards the city. Luckily I got picked up by a couple guys getting off work and told them my confusion and destination, they carried me outside town and back on track to 43 West.

I walked down this road for a bit until I got picked up by Mark, much to my enjoyment he was headed for Fort Nelson, a 7 hour drive that would be me longest of the trip so far. He was around my age and laid back, he was headed to Fort Nelson for work we he usually stayed 2 weeks at a time in the hotel they put him up to. He made a phone call and changed his room to two beds in case I wanted a place to stay that night.

When he was looking for a map a bag of weed was exposed raising the question if I smoked, given my answer he rolled up a joint and the ride continued. We stopped once at a diner type place he liked, I hadn't eaten all day and feasted on a hamburger steak on top of texas toast smothered in a bbq type sauce and sour cream, all on his companies dime. Once we made it to Fort Nelson I decided I'd stay the night, there was a pinch of daylight left, but the thought of catching a shower and sleeping in a bed was pretty good. We had dinner and beers at a place next to the hotel on the companies dime again.

Alaska or Bust
In the morning I crept out of the hotel room with a quiet goodbye to the mostly sleeping Mark, I headed into the lobby and had some of their breakfast and my left over pasta from dinner. Full of food and coffee I trekked down the road for a good number of miles and hours. Mark's truck appeared, he was headed to his actual work site 40ish miles down the desolate road, I went as far as he went and continued walking. On either side of me was heavy forest which continued on in all directions for hundreds of miles.

More time and walking went by until an RV slowed and stopped, a kid popped out the window asking where I was headed, "We're headed to Alaska too, hop on in!", I opened the door and stepped into the motor home and met the family of six, husband, wife, three boys and one daughter. Jack, the father, had hitchhiked in his day, apparently they had passed me and then turned around after he'd talked the family into picking me up, I then recognized this as the RV with an "Alaska or Bust" poster on the back that had indeed passed me a bit ago.

We droveand talked, I switched between the passenger seat and the couches in the back. They fixed me a peanut butter and honey sandwich accompanied by chips, string cheese and oreos. We stopped a few times on the beautiful but occasionally monotonous ride when we saw animals like bison laying out, caribou wandering around, and even a black bear walking around.

By nightfall they stopped at an RV camp just past Watson Lake and they let me lay out my sleeping bag and sleep inside. In the morning we continued on towards Whitehorse where we parted ways, they weren't in a hurry to get to Alaska and were going to head another direction to check something out. I was included in a family picture in front of the RV and then went on my way.

Inching along the Alaskan Highway
I got a ride to the edge of town from a nice guy, he too brought up the Greyhound beheading story and told me a little more. "Buddy was just nodding off with his headphones on, other buddy goes back there with a hunting knife and start whaling away sawing off his head and gutting him". There didn't seem to be much motivation, I guess the guy just snapped.

From the edge of town I walked until I got picked up again, a local forester and botanist who promptly lit up a huge joint filled with some of the strongest pot I may have ever smoked. The lines on the road passed and songs were going off in my head as if my brain was a jukebox, triggering my own soundtrack. He told me stories of beetles and fire destroying parts of the forest and his efforts to investigate it all.

He dropped me off in Haines Junction with warnings to stay put and not camp nearby as plenty of bear in the area. I walked either way, hoping to catch another ride before the sun subsided. I realized I was close to the border now and my next ride could very well be the one that crossed me over. Slightly paranoid about my little tube of pot, I decided to toss it, I made a small treasure map to find it again in case I ever found myself on that stretch of road again.

I walked a long time seeing fewer and fewer cars, it was nice at first to come down from the pair of joints that had me reeling. I got picked up by a Yukon local, he'd only left Yukon a couple times, once to Alaska when he was 16, and once to Alberta (still Canada) to buy his truck. He too rolled a joint, also very good and somehow I was balanced again. He was really friendly and proud of where he lived, he dropped me in front of a campgound a ways up the road leaving me with 4 bottles of water, a bag of chips, and two fresh kiwis.

I ate all the food he gave me, I was hungry and without much food of my own in my pack. I got one more ride that night to a tiny place called Burwash Landing as the sun was just about down, it was near midnight or later, the further north I got the longer the sun stayed up. I found a spot along the road and set up camp hoping for no bears.

Coming to America
In the morning I awoke and started walking again, a long walk of perhaps 10 miles and few cars until one actually stopped, a hunter from the area. He surprisingly didn't take me far, with next to no towns for long stretches I figured there was no choice, but we was going into the woods. He left me with a can of bear spray and off I went walking again for about as long as I did before he picked me up.

A guy a couple years younger than I picked me up, he was headed for Fairbanks, I would finally be getting back to America. At the border I was asked to step out of the car with my bad when they learned I was a hitchhiker. My ride drove off when he was told it could be a little wait as they had to search my bag and question me some more. They went through my whole pack and I was glad I had abandoned by pot the night before, I filled out some forms and answered some questions and was on my way again, walking into America, into Alaska.

Walking and Riding through Alaska
I was hungry, my shoulders were feeling the strain of many miles of walking, so when I came to a lodge 4 miles from the border I stopped in and filled up on a sandwich, chips, cookies, and coffee. I talked a little while to the girl working there about her favorite cities and other things, and then continued on my walk.

Three of four miles later I got picked up, a trucker who at the time was in his car headed to Fairbanks. I rode with him as far as Tok, the town where the road splits, his road to Fairbanks, and mine towards Anchorage and Homer. The road was straight as straight can be, I walked more than my share of miles still seeing where I started from far down the distant road, again I was surprised by how few cars were on the road.

At one point I looked back and thought I saw another hitchhiker appear a mile or so behind me, thumbing the cars I intended to thumb at, I wasn't sure if he could see me or not. I thought now that not only were there very few cars, but now whoever the good car was would pick him up first either way. I continued to walk, looking back every now and then at some point it looked like he probably gave up or maybe got picked up. A little ways down the road a car stopped for me, and that hitchhiker was in the passenger seat.

The driver had a hunting and game type of job, surveying animal populations and whatnot. The hitchhiker was old and toothless covered in his hooded winter jacket despite the blazing sun, his speech barely audible and rarely discernable, but he fell in and out of sleep as I talked with the driver about the different wildlife in the area. We dropped off the hitchhiker where he wanted to go. Once he was out the driver told me that the old man had showed up to his house begging for a place to stay or a ride, the driver said he was glad he saw me too to have someone to talk to and buffer the strange old man.

Getting to the big city of Anchorage
I was on foot again now, further down the road that seemed even more desolate. The scenary was beautiful, snow covered mountains and lakes far below me to the left. I walked about an hour and a half and counted 5 cars as the sun slowly went down, I decided I'd keep walking until it was completely down or a great looking camp spot presented itself. The sixth car started rolling towards me, I could see it miles away, when it got closer I thumbed at it like I did the others, however this one actually stopped, a pickup truck of course.

My uncontrollable smile got bigger when he said he as headed for Anchorage, still hundreds of miles away. He was a hunter and told me all kinds of information and stories of hunting the area, he'd worked all kinds of jobs and was pretty interesting. I told him of my plans to get to Homer and how I looked forward to finally getting there and cracking a beer, at that he reached in a cooler behind him and pulled out a couple beers providing instant gratifiction.

He had a feeling the road would be closed ahead, and sure enough there was a stretch of the highway that closed at midnight for road construction, it was 12:30 when we hit it. We backtracked a mile or two to a rest area, I layed out my sleeping bag and he had his one man tent, we fixed a couple sandwiches, had another beer, and passed out for the night.

In the morning we sontinued on, we were only a couple hours from Anchorage at this point where he lived. He bought me breakfast along the way, and once in Achorage he drove me a round a bit telling me some of the history, we even stopped at a fishing bridge where I saw huge salmon swimming around. He dropped me off just outside the city in a pull off along the highway, water and mountains all around.

The Homer Stretch
It took no time to get another ride, an old minister who used to live in Homer and said that's where he was headed now. When he learned it was my first time Alaska he started telling me all about the area, the animals, and the seeminly endless amount of jobs and money chasing ventures he's done over the years. He got me lunch in the national park, we stopped a couple times to look at Glaciers, and continued on.

We got to a small town still 2 hours from Homer and he realized he had a friend there, he tracked her down and I decided to try and catch a ride from someone else, I'm not sure he really intended to go to Homer at all, at least not for himself. In a little while I got picked up by a guy who flew charter planes arund for people, he got me a half hour closer to Homer.

Soon enough I got picked up by a Hummer, a woman looking very tired was at the wheel. She said she was hungover and having a rough time with her divorce, I asked her about it.

"Let's just say it's kicking my ass", was her response. A minute later she asked if I had my license, we switched seats so I could drive and she could ease her hangover. We stopped so she could get a soda, after that she opened up a bit and started telling me the details of what she was going through with her soon to be ex husband, how she'd even considered suicide but her 17 year old son was motivation enough to keep on living.

As we got closer to Homer I considered my directions to the actual house I was going to for the Couchsurfing collective, "A log cabin at a bend in the road 5 miles before town", as we got closer we saw plenty of bends in the road and cabins, so I kept driving until we came over a hill and saw the town of Homer in all it's glory. Below were mountains poking out the clouds surrounded by the bay, and into it we drove. I got out at the Homer Spit pier, she hopped in the driver seat and drove off.

Couchsurfing Collective
I called Laura, the girl I'd been in contact with at the collective, but just got her voicemail. I caught a ride back in the direction I'd came back towards where I thought the cabin might be. I started walking up the big hill figuring at least I was headed in the right direction. A young guy and girl drove past me looking at me with some interest and drove past, then turned around and stopped for me so I hopped in.

I told them I was headed up the hill unsure exactly where I was going, but that it was for something called Couchsurfing. "We can take you there!" they laughed, turns out they were part of the collective too so they dropped me right at the cabin not too far away and continued on wherever they were off to at the moment, I'd finally made it, 7 days and 6 nights on the road, I was happy.

I walked in and met Nick who was busy preparing some food that smelled pretty awesome. He gave me a breif rundown and said everyone else would be getting back soon. The house itself is perched up on a cliff with the view of the whole bay and all the mountains in the distance, simply incredible. The first thing I did was take a shower to wash off the road.

Laura had come back when I got out, she found a bed for me to crash in and I met everyone else who was working at the house, about 20 in all. I relaxed the night away, everyone happy and having a good time, indian food for dinner, girls dancing with fire, the sunset, good times and I passed out on a bed late in the night.

It was relaxing waking up this morning, I was the first up, had some coffee and enjoyed the backyard and the view some more. I'm still not totally sure what I'll be doing while I'm here, what kinds of projects they may have me help with, or when and where I'll even be leaving to. All is how it should be.

Relaxing in Jackson Hole

The past few weeks have been filled primarily with days hitching rides and camping out along the way, relaxing in Jackson Hole is a luxury even by your average person's standards. I've slept in a proper bed the past two nights, something I realized I haven't done since... Las Vegas back in mid May (I had to look at my map to pull that little stat out).

My days in Jackson have been filled with disc golf, hiking, jumping off boulders into lakes, and eating food tremendous in both quality and quantity. I've also had some time to catch up on uploading photos, a new video should be up tonight from my hitch from NYC to Denver a while back, and of course updating this blog with some pretty long entries, so this short one should be refreshing. Here's the latest photo album to check out from hitchhiking with Heather down to New Orleans.

Hitching with Heather

Here's a map of some of the spots we hit along the way too (if you can't see it click here).


View Larger Map

It's awesome to hear from a lot of you that you enjoy reading my stories and checking out the videos when I actually get around to posting them, more than you I hope I can keep it up, life's been great lately with no signs of slowing. Tomorrow morning I head out an onward with Alaska on the mind and Canada standing between, should be a great one.

Thumbing from New Orleans to Wyoming

My first attempt leaving New Orleans was pretty pathetic, no rides in 6 hours, just a lot of walking out of the city limits and sleeping under a bridge, comfortably at least. I made more progress the next day with 7 rides.

I waited at one on ramp until I got bored and hungry staring at the Denny's across the street. I stopped in for a bagel and endless coffee and hit the ramp again, full and caffeinated. I waited longer yet singing lyrics as they came to me looking like a madman. A woman finally stopped, she spoke Spanish exclusively, I hopped in her car when I could understand nothing. We struggled to communicate more, she didn't even understand "New York City", so "Wyoming" helped nothing at all. From what I could tell she thought I lived a few blocks away, she strangely got off the the very first exit trying to find my "address", I hopped out of the car with a "gracias" as she gave me a "sorry" and I gave her a "no worries" she likely didn't understand, I wandered down the road to another entrance to I-10 West.

I got picked up by a couple tatted up guys, tear drop tattoos and a dirty car. They immediately veered off in another direction less than a mile onto the freeway so I hopped out, walking down the freeway raised over the swamp in Louisiana. A couple miles down a cop car pulled over with their windows down, I spoke to the driver over the female cop in the passenger side. "You can't be up here, turn around and walk back!".

"Yea I don't wanna be up here, trust me, can I just keep walking forward or get a ride?"

"It's 12 miles until the next exit, you're best walking backwards".

"Yea... can you give me a ride?"

"Ah... ok, hop in the other side!"

I jumped in, unavoidably stepping on his inexplicable dry cleaning in the back. They spoke among each other at a low level as they drove the 12 miles only asking me where I was going once and losing interest immediately. They dropped me at a gas station which to my surprise was the turn off to 55 north, my next big step. I walked to that entrance just down the road waiting for another ride, shouting the lyrics to my new hitching tune to pass time.

Jon picked me up, just a cool guy in a pickup truck who made $255 a day working on a tug boat "not really doing much", getting 1 week off for every 2 weeks he worked. He dropped me off a ways up the road after buying me a gatorade. From there I got a one exit ride from an Indian man with an expensive truck, that landed me at a busier exit in the town of McComb, Mississippi, I remember the name of the town because of the cop that came later.

I stood at the on ramp watching cars pass for a while before he came, the cop that is. No stranger to cop cars recently I leaned over to the window smiling as he pulled up, he motioned me to move forward into the open shoulder which I did. He hopped out, a bigger guy standing around 6 and a half feet I'd guess, mustache too, looking upset and genuinely disgusted. "Let me see your license", I started pulling it out my little blue water tight bag, I caught his eyes looking at the rip in my pants, "what are you doing out here anyways? You have any smoke on you, a little pot with you?". I had some in my backpack, I didn't mention that of course, "Nope, I don't even smoke cigarettes", I laughed and told him I was headed for Wyoming to see some family. He didn't laugh, smile, just radioed in my license to a bored woman on the other end.

"I just don't understand kids like you, when I was 17 I had a job, I became a cop, what do you do, how long have you been doing this?", it was a classically hilarious old and cop thing to say, and I smirked as much while trying to maintain some sense of respect and composure, replying "More or less for the past year seeing America, it's huge, I do some odd jobs here and there", I even mentioned Trip Hopping calling it an "online travel website" just to get his old brain stirred up a bit more.

"How'd you like to go to jail in the city of McComb?" was his reply, to that I said "I wouldn't be into that at all, isn't hitchhiking legal as long as I'm off the freeway?", "There's a local ordinance against it here in McComb, how fast do you walk?", "4 or 5 miles per hour usually" I told him. He seemed a bit off guard my quick and precise answer, but managed the math in his head quickly too saying "The next town is 2 miles down, I'd say that gives you a half hour to get there, if I see you here with your thumb out before you see the sign that says Summit (the next town) you'll be sitting in a McComb jail." He said it was fine to walk down the freeway, the one and only thing most cops in any other state actually care about.

"You won't see me again.", I took my ID back with a uncontrolled smirk still on my face and left before he changed his mind, up the freeway I went. One mile down he was waiting for me at the next exit in his car, I guess just to make sure I was doing what I was told, he drove off before I got too close. Just as I made it to the next exit and next town, a yellow PT Cruiser pulled to the side of the road for me, I hopped in meeting a friendly man and immersing myself in the ice cold air conditioning.

This guy had an auto part business, we talked about that and traveling a bit as that was part of his gig, and I fell in and out of sleep for a bit while he listened to the radio, it worked out great. When we hit Jackson an hour or so up the road he said he could drop me off of I could come run a few errands with him and he'd take me another 50 miles, I opted for that. He stopped quickly at a farmers market, and his second errand was actually stopping at a nice restaurant and buying me beer and a chicken gyro, I liked that errand best.

We took me about to his exit 50 miles up as promised right as it started down pouring, so he left me right near the exit under an overpass. By the time I put my pack cover on my bag and broke out my rain jacket, the storm stopped, of course, and I decided to keep walking down the freeway since the exit was a ghost town, as was the next one 2 miles down. I probably walked a total of 4 or 5 miles before a car broke into the shoulder ahead of me.

Shane was his name, sales was the game. He had nothing but advice, and "everything is sales". He apparently turned his life around selling cleaner, which he showed me, even gave me a pamphlet and encouragement to call them up for a job. He told me he was gonna go out of his way 30 miles up the road to drop me at a good truck stop, then asking me if I smoked as he pulled out a blunt and some seedy stemy pot from somewhere. He rolled it up as I grabbed the wheel, going on about how sales changed his life, got him women, "1050 of them", and he promised to get me a ride with a trucker when he dropped me off.

We smoked most of the blunt on the way, he gave me the last bit to pocket when we pulled in. He asked a handful of truckers about getting me a ride, they all said no or they were heading the wrong way, he pointed at me in the car , I could only imagine what these truckers thought as a sales guy was trying to get a ride to some guy sitting in his car. He instead bought me a taco, he took that opportunity to con taco bell out of a taco saying they screwed up the order when we got it, "You see how I used the power of sales to get what I wanted there? It works, I'm telling you!". I ate my taco, he gave me 5 dollar bills and was off.

It was dark, raining again, I waited outside the gas station for a bit hoping for one last ride, I asked a few people who were friendly, but they were headed south. I walked out into the rain and down under a bridge where I smoked the last of the cheap blunt, cleared out some spider webs and went to sleep.

In the morning I retired my jean shorts, the hole had grown large enough that I thought it may effect the rides I could be getting. I threw on my bathing suit and also changed my shirt to the bright yellow staff shirt I got at the All Good festival, heading for the on ramp feeling slightly fresher. David was the first to pick me up, he took me about 25 miles while we talked about camping and backpacking, he gave me a camping pillow I later got rid of because of the added bulk, I've been using my shoes as my pillow which are surprisingly comfortable.

My next ride was a local truck driver, once a nationwide driver. He also took me about 25 miles, but to a pretty deserted exit with a gas station I think only he knew about. I started walking towards the next exit, a mile down I saw the sign that said "5 miles to Oakland". Bah, I walked, and walked, really expecting to get picked up before hitting the next exit. The sun beat down, I stopped a few times for swigs of water and relief from the pack on my shoulders, feebly sticking my thumb out to the cars flashing by.

When I reached the exit finally I was happy to see gas stations in the tiny town. I threw my pack off next to a man eating chicken at the table inside and went straight to the bathroom to drink as much water as I could. I bought a small pizza for about $4 and gobbled it up along with more water from the soda machine, there's few things better than ice cold water in a styrofoam cup, nothing. I eyeballed the ice cream cone picture, I gathered up my change and asked for one. The woman smiled at me and gave me a taste of one of the flavors, oreo java or some such, I think it was a Baskin Robbins. She handed me the cone and I looked to see where to pay, she just smiled and said "I got it", I smiled a goofy kid smile and uttered some kind of word that couldn't decide if it was "wow" or "thanks", a grateful sound none the less, I sat and happily ate my ice cream.

I grabbed my pack when I was done and headed out, she was out smoking a cigarette and I thanked her with actual words and talked with her a bit answering the typical questions about where I was going and why getting the typical response that I'm crazy but interesting because of it somehow. "Stay safe!" she shouted as I walked back into the sun and the road.

This in ramp was no good either despite the gas stations there, and after a while I decided to walk down the freeway again with my renewed energy. After 2 miles I got lucky, a pickup slowed for me and let me hop in the back amongst piles of steel and other junk, driven by a man and his wife. We stopped at a rest area a ways down for his wife to use the bathroom. He told me he walked 3 days down that same stretch of freeway once without getting picked up. He gave me a soda from a cooler and drove me down the road some 50 miles, they left me a legitimately busy exit feeling better and full of soda.

I got picked up fairly quickly from there, a man in a pickup who used to drive trucks for concerts, he was on his way to take a piss test for a new job driving trucks for dollar general. We swapped stories about music while he drove me just past Memphis where the 55 meets I-40 at a truck stop.

I went to the bathroom, while I was washing my hands a guy asked me where I headed, he told me him and the trucker he was riding with were headed up to ohio and then headed west the next day. Not totally sure if that was a good idea, he said if I was still around when he came back they could give me a ride. I sat down for a bit and he was back in no time, I'd already thought he was gone. Without thinking about it too much I agreed and went to the truck to meet his girlfriend and the actual truck driver, Chuck, and the three dogs riding in the truck.

We started coasting down I-40 heading East and I started wondering what I'd done. I was heading in the wrong direction and none of them seemed sure or confident that they'd actually head West for sure the next day after dropping off their load. I cleared my head and faded to sleep in the back. I thought I felt my shirt being tugged a bit and awoke, unsure if it was one of the dogs or Chuck who always had a distant happy searching look in his eye, a strange look.

I fell back asleep again in the corner of the mattress, when we reached Cincinnati at their first drop point I stretched out on the bed, Brandon and his girl slept on the top bunk and I was on the bottom with Chuck and a couple dogs, I pressed as far against the wall as I could. Throughout the night I kept feeling something on my back, unsure if it was a dog or Chucks hand, I kept shaking it off and pressing against the wall more until morning finally came.

I guess while I was sleeping the first load was unloaded, the next got unloaded in Dayton, I then decided I'd get out of the truck as soon as possible seeing as how none of them seemed to know about their next step still and we were now cruising further east on I-70, Chuck tried to put his hand on my knee a few times and scratch my back while Brandon was driving, nothing seemed right. I told them I wanted to jump out at the next big truck stop, and they stopped when we came to it, I asked if they'd jump on the CB radio and see if any other truckers would be willing to pick me up and get me back west. I grabbed my pack from the top bunk when we stopped, Chuck took that as an opportunity to quickly brush his hand against my package and I came down on him with my bag, apologizing like it was a mistake and got out of the truck.

I headed for the on ramp once again, wondering why I went so far east, but happy I was further north and not subject to molestation by a lonely trucker. For the first time since I've been hitchhiking, an 18 wheeler truck actually stopped for me on the on ramp, he was headed for Chicago so I jumped in. The single laid back trucker in his junky old rig was a great change of pace, and it would make up for the minor Ohio set back. He was a recovering crackhead who used to sell pot, coke, and crack. He used to steal and resell baby formula to support his habits, and the same with expensive maps when he became a trucker. For most of the ride he had the radio cranked way up, I liked just catching the breeze from the window and laying back.

He bought me a sandwich and chips at one stop, and he ended his day just shy of chicago in Gary, Indiana. He even tried getting on the CB and asking other truckers to give me a ride, but none responded amongst the noise of other truckers rambling about what truckers ramble about on the CB channel, so off I went.

We saw another hitchhiker walking towards the ramps when we pulled in, I'd hoped he was heading east or already caught a ride, sure enough though he was also heading west and I saw him from a distance with his bright orange shirt and giant sign I imagine said "West" or whatever else. I walked back to the truck stop with it's disjointed exits, an almost impossible hitch. The sun kept falling, I finally went back and orange shirt was gone, it actually gave me some hope that he got picked up, and I took his place. It only took me 10 or 15 minutes until an older guy picked me up. He said he was only headed 10 minutes down the road, I gladly accepted the ride though and he told me all about his hybrid car, showing me the graphic that displayed his average 55mpg he was getting, a toyota.

He dropped me at a busy looking intersection with just a hint of daylight left, I marched happily towards to entrance to the freeway only to discover orange shirt hitchhiker was already there, I'll be damned, he got dropped in the same spot I did. I laughed at my luck and walked a little ways away to wait for him assuming the sun would be completely gone by the time he got a ride, if he did. I tried waiving at him to share the laugh, I don't think he caught the waive though. Surprising, he called it quits after about 5 minutes or so and walked in the opposite direction, I never did see his face or hear his story, but I went ahead in took his place not yet ready to call it a night.

The sun got just about all the way down when a pickup truck with an old an subtly frantic man at the wheel stopped for me saying he was going just 10 miles down the road which was fine by me. He took the very first turn off though, away from I-80, we then went in circles, crosses, double backing, wrong turns, and all sorts of other driving feats while he tried to get me back when he realized he was not actually going my way. The whole time he told me stories of his hitching days, like catching a friendly ride from a cop with a half pound of pot on sweating bullets. Eventually he left me a freeway fork, he drove off to the left and I walked along the freeway going right, back on the 80.

I hurried down hoping for an exit coming up, now thinking of the small amount of pot I had an rumors of hard Chicago cops. I was happy to see nothing but nature to my right, plenty of trees, grass, and bridges going over everything providing excellent sleeping conditions, but I really just wanted to get to the next exit. It wasn't far, and it turned out to be a giant rest area that stretched over the freeway, like a floating mall solely for travelers passing by. McDonalds and Starbucks were open still, I grabbed my fix from each and found a nice little table to plug in and catch up on emails and everything else I'd neglected the past few weeks.

I found a nice grassy spot behind the trees to lay out my sleeping bag for the night, there was plenty to choose from. In the morning I cleaned up in the bathroom, a brush on the teeth and some splashes of water did the trick. I went out to the exit of the rest area feeling confident that I'd get a ride from distance travelers, but I stood there for about 2 hours until finally getting in a car.

An father of a 40 year old picked me up, amused by my stories and attitude calling me a "free spirit". He dropped me at a freeway fork not too far, I walked a couple miles to the the next exit, every step in the grass resulted in 20 odd grass hoppers flying everywhere, sometimes managing to cling to my leg for three or four steps.

The next on ramp was peaceful, a wide shoulder and good vibes. A guy about my age stopped, I was once again "the first hitchhiker I've ever picked up", he took me to Joliet, IL. I waited in that spot for a good while, I'd long stopped checking the time, but going by shadows I'd say it was between 2 or 3 hours before someone stopped. The whole time I watched work truck after work truck fly by. When I'm standing on the on ramp like that I don't expect 18 wheelers to stop for a number of reasons, I usually just waive or nod my head in respect to those who call the road home. I can claim to "live my life on the road", but truckers, the road, the concrete and everything in literal terms, that is their home, their day, their night, their life. A grandpa and his soon-to-be-trucker grand daughter picked me up, appropriately enough they dropped me off at a truck stop 40 miles up the road or so.

Once there I did what I usually do when I get to a truck stop, slowly walk in and go the bathroom. I want to give every trucker and anyone else the opportunity to see me and perhaps inquire as to my location, and perhaps offer me a ride. No luck this time, but I filled up my water bottle and walked to the on ramp headed west only to discover another hitchhiker. He didn't see me, I headed back to the truck stop thumbing rides for a little while. No luck, I headed back to the on ramp and he was still there, I saw a Chillis and thought of beer, I decided I'd grab one and wait for him to score his ride. He looked my way and we waived at each other in recognition of the hitch struggle, I had my beer and a cup a chili listening to the girl behind the bar amazed by my hitching, channeling my mother's worries.

I stepped out into the day filled with 20 odd ounces of beer and happiness, the other hitchhiker was gone, presumably riding down getting closer to his destination, I walked up to that spot hoping for the same fortune. I stood there a while, every kind of car passed, every kind of face peered at me from inside. Isolated old women whose confusion defaults to disgust, uniterested truckers, teenagers classifying me as a bum, business men who can't be bothered, bubbly 20 something girls on their phones pointiny and smiling, mexicans with nastaligic smiles and trucks to full to acomodate, and every other face that passes a hitchhiker without stopping. After an hour or two I saw someone walking up the hill towards my spot, I'll be damned it was the hitchhiker from before, he didn't get picked up afterall. "Were you he before, that's you?!" I shouted as he got closer.

"Yea!", he got right up into the shoulder with me, I kept casually thumbing to the cars passing by as I talked to him, more interested in conversation than cars that wouldn't stop, "I'm going to Seattle. It took me a day and half to get here from Boston and I've been in Illinois for a day and half now! It's crazy here! The next exit is 15 miles off, I'm gonna walk it on the side roads".

"It's brutal man, I've been trying to get out of here too. I'm gonna try another 30 minutes or so and walk it myself.", I told him.

"Brutal... yea! It is brutal!", he walked away and down the road. After 30 minutes I too walked, but I chose the freeway. I figured he feared the police or the heavy traffic as his reason for choosing the side roads, I've dealt with the cops and don't care about traffic, the shoulder of the freeway was fine by me. The traffic was heavy and steady too, every car that passes by poses another question... "Why won't they stop?", I knew alot of the answers. "He's gonna kill me", "He's gonna steal something from me", "He stinks", "He's a lunatic", "My car's full", "I'm not going far", "Why is that guy walking with a backpack?", and plenty of other legitamate or ridiculous rationales.

Eventually a car pulled into the shoulder a disatnce ahead of me, I ran and ran surprised by my own stamina, getting into the passenger side in a thin layer of sweat and slightly in need of air. I thanked him up and down and even told him they should build a statue of him in the fields here for picking me up, it's been a long day with few miles covered. Most of the time I sit back and coax stories out of people, but this ride was my turn, I told him all kinds of stories mostly from the past few weeks.

We met up with his wife and brother-in-law and he got me a burrito, a great one, and then I got dropped off further down the road at "The World's Largest Truck Stop" in Iowa. Another hitchhiker was there and the sun was going down, he gave up and I took his place. A trucker pulled into the shoulder after a little waiting, I was pumped. I hopped into the truck, a laptop was on the dash with a movie playing, Borris was the truckers name and he said he was headed all the way to San Francisco! I'd be getting to Wyoming finally.

He drove through the night, not stopping until almost 2am when we landed a little ways in Nebraska and I climbed to the top bunk and passed out. In the morning he got me a free truck stop shower and breakfast, I was clean with a full belly for the first time in a little while. At one point in the day the AC unit broke near Cheyenne, WY. It took some time out of the drive while he went around trying to fix it. Around midnight he pulled over for sleep, we were just 20 miles from where I'd jump out and I was happy to get to sleep inside again.

In the morning he bought me breakfast again, he plowed through his like he did the morning before, slamming his coffee like a free beer at a keg party. He dropped me off and I started walking up the road, just 200 miles from Jackson. I walked a good ways with very few cars passing, but I was content singing to myself enjoying the peace. After a few miles or more a pickup truck stopped, inside was a man coming from Dallas. He'd been stopping at churches the entire way getting gas money and food to sustain his trip home. He shared some food with me and most of the rum and coke he'd poured for himself. After 40 odd miles I hopped out in search of a new ride.

I walked through a small town until a local stopped and drove me to the far edge of it, from there I walked some more. There was a whole lot of nothing to my left, right, and forward, I just kept walking waiting for someone to stop, a nice couple in a pickup finally did. They drove me a good while to a gas station, I used the bathroom and started walking again. I didn't get far before another nice couple picked me up heading to and through Jackson. They left me just 7 miles from Teton Village where my folks were staying, I smiled and started walking down the road and thumbing rides without any doubt that I'd get my final ride in no time.

Luke pulled over for me, I river guide who moved to Jackson a couple years ago and loved everything about the place. He was surprised and amused when I told him I was coming from New Orleans, many locals hitch that road just to go back and forth to town. He let me out right in front of the place where my family was, I walked in and waited by the front desk, chewing on an apple while I waited to talk to someone. A guy walked through and asked if I needed help, I started to ask about what room my folks were staying in and he had apparently been told a lot about me, he even knew about HoboLifestyle.com, and coincidentally went to one of the same high schools I went to, I think graduated the same year as well. He pointed me to their room and I went up, my mom was coming out of the room right as I got to the hallway. Lot's of excited screaming occured on her part, I came in and caught up with everyone.

That night we went to dinner and I filled myself jam packed with chicken wings, beer, and buffalo meatloaf. Later I went and picked up a 6 pack of local beers and tried a couple before passing out on a bed for the first time in months.

I imagine I'll stay another day or so and then have to start the hitch through Canada and on to Alaska for the Couch Surfing collective. It feels good to be in Jackson for now, a beautiful spot, I'll enjoy it while I'm here.

All Good Hitchhiking

I met Heather on the 5th of July, the day after great food and drinks with my my best friends when I caught a train into Connecticut to their parents place. Heather seemed up for anything, ready to hitchhike wherever with the casual notion of a music fest in west Virginia and the eventual return to her home in New Orleans. Neither of us had any idea what was in store for these 2 weeks of summer.

Meeting Heather and Setting Out
I met her in Redding, a small town in CT. She had a mild hippie look to her, dreads and happy eyes, she cooked ravioli with wine that night and I was happy, so was her friend. We talked about the time ahead as if we actually knew what would happen, starring at maps with Philadelphia on our mind as the first stop. In the morning she suggested Cape Cod as an alternative with the vague idea of visiting an old friend who didn't know we were coming, I was fine withe the change of plans, any plan I've ever had was a fine sketch to be easily drawn over.

Her friend, Casey, the girls whose folks place we were staying at, had a brother who promised us a ride. After meticulous cleaning of a mess he found in the garage, he took us to an exit on I-95 I was familiar with from growing up in the area, we barely took our backpacks off before the very first car stopped, a work truck headed all the way to Providence, Rhode Island. We chatted and relaxed in our instant fortune, they dropped us off in the middle of the freeway just before a bridge which we then walked over. We walked more and more before finding a suitable spot, and upon finding that spot got picked up instantly once again, a short ride, but a good one.

After his ride we got picked up by a gay business man "grossed out" by many of the surrounding cities, and then by a woman with a mullet, and I'm still unsure why she ever picked us up. After that we got picked up by a couple young giggly girls driving us further for their own amusement. We waited off the major freeway close to cape cod at a gas station eventually getting picked up by a car of confused teens, picking us up as a means to find the Cape Cod their directions failed to point them to.

Once in cape cod we got picked up by Johnny, one of Heather's friends and old roommates. He showed us a hell of a time, starting with a float down to the ocean. We picked up a half gallon of Cape Cods IPA beer and headed to one of his favorite lakes with his friends, drinking beers and jumping on and off rafts in the midnight lit waters.

Stumbling through the Northeast's Roads (day 2 on the road)
The next morning we hit the road again, refreshed and loving life. We caught one ride off the Cape, another took us towards major roads, and then a young guy drove us all the way of to Boston swearing up and down that our lifestyle was the life for him too. We were trying to avoid Boston for the sake of police, but the ride worked well and we were fine with it.

An older couple picked us up in Boston, but left us just past a toll booth. We sat and had a sandwich with our lingering food supplies before making a move. We were swiftly approached by a cop while attempting to catch a ride from the traffic having just paid their toll. Essentially he said we were not legally allowed to try and catch a ride, or even walk anywhere, our only option was to call a cab, and neither of us had the money for it... so basically trapped in space in time. We walked back to the toll booth parking lot.

Heather broke out her playing cards for lack of a better idea, no sooner she did that a young guy was getting off work and we talked him into giving a us a ride away from the entrapping tollbooth area, he took us to a gas station in town. From there an old farmer took us further to another gas station, still off the major freeway. A few people talked to us offering very short rides at the next one, but finally someone gave us a decent ride, an older guy with an LA and Vegas porn industry past, he drove us back to the freeway.

We waited at the next freeway for a little while, but a cop was the first to stop. "What's your story?", he asked without getting out of the car, we told him our story, he told us hitchhiking was illegal.

"We want out of here much more than you want us out", I said. He was fine with that and drove off, leaving us with our thumbs. Eventually an engineer in a pickup came and got us, he drove us clear to Springfield, MA. Once there we stumbled around the gas station where we couldn't fill our water and headed for the 3-way on ramp thumbing for another ride, sun beating down.

Eventually James stopped, he asked where we were headed, "Towards Albany!", we said. He sat in the drivers seat replying "I guess I'm going to Albany", and off we went. It was a ways to Albany, and he drove us just past it for the hell of it, he had no plans that day and was up for a drive, up for a story I suppose. We guessed he'd go hit a bar or something after he dropped us off, we just ate some food and got back to thumbing, the sun was still in the sky.

Our next ride was from a laid back guy and his dog, Governor. He drove us to Chittenango, outside Syracuse, telling stories about New Hampshire and maple syrup and everything. The sun was down when he dropped us at the truck stop, Heather and I stood in the parking lot starring towards the woods with discerning eyes, we headed towards our spot. She brought a bright orange tent, it wasn't stealth, neither were we. We laid there telling stories until we passed out.

South with Doc and Buddha (day 3)
In the morning we packed it in and cleaned up in the truck stop bathrooms, a woman from the donut shop recognized us as the two in the tent she drove by, she was amused. We hit the exit with our thumbs out, Heather spinning and smiling, me pulling out my harmonica to encourage the spins.

We waited a little bit, the first car to stop was that of a state trooper. Apparently we weren't supposed to be hitching these parts, so he drove us into downtown Syracuse with a kind warning not to hitch in the same breath acknowledging that we still would and that was fine. From where he dropped us we began looking for our way back to the freeway, any freeway. I saw a big man with a blue shirt and asked him the way.

"You're hitchhiking, right?", he asked, and gave us the direction to the freeway that wasn't far, also telling us about Docs Little Gem Diner which was on the way, he even handed us a 10 dollar bill encouraging us to stop and "say hi to the Doc". We headed the way he told us and sure enough saw the diner, we stepped in collapsing in a booth surrounded by the stares from everybody wondering who these couple a people with big backpacks were, we were happy, hungry, content. An older woman came over saying she'd grab us a water before anything else as that's what we clearly needed, she did that and gave us menus.

We studied the menu with all of our hunger and smiles, crafting the perfect 10 dollar meal. We told the woman of the blue shirt man who guided us here, her and everyone else in the diner were thoroughly amused by our hitchhiking stories, and eventually Doc himself came and sat with us to listen. They began to give us things like pens, bottle openers, and Little Gem tote bags we'd later use our entire trip. Doc offered us a ride a little ways out of town when we were done eating and even waived the bill leaving us still with our 10 dollar bill intact for other uses, and we would use it later.

We found ourselves just outside Syracuse on our new road, I-81 heading south towards West Virginia and the All Good music festival Heather had heard of. A cop was at the on ramp seemingly writing someone a ticket, we stayed waiting in the bushes for him to pass, Heather started whittling away on a small piece of wood. We got a ride from a quiet architect, he drove us over 100 miles and even bought us ice cream along the way.

Our next ride took us a little way, but dropped us in an awkward spot where two highways merged and we were up on the freeway itself. Luckily we got picked up in a matter of minutes by Rob, he was on his way to work where he counseled kids with disabilities, he was happy to help us out.

We filled up water at the gas station he left us at and headed to our next on ramp just down the road, still I-81. One guy stopped and gave us 5 dollars, "They don't know, they don't know", talking about everyone else on the road who wasn't giving us a rides, he said he hitched once. Not long after that we got picked up by Edwin who spoke with broken English, he got us to the next spot leaving us with his phone number in case we needed help later.

No sooner did he stop the next car pulled up offering us a ride, a smooth transition. This driver took us about 40 miles, he told us a story about some kids who threw rocks at his windshield on this very stretch of freeway. A few other cars were pulled over in the shoulder who were also victims, they agreed to sneak up on the kids and jump them, and they snuck up well within 10 feet of them, but the kids ran too fast even after falling out of their shoes in the escape. They apparently got caught not too much longer after that, our driver didn't seem to care enough to prosecute the kids over a couple hundred dollars of repair.

Our next ride was a reluctant minivan driven by Keith, a recruiter for the army. He was pretty amused by us as were the others in the van, he dropped us off at a road called Progress Ave, we were in great spirits, laughing, spinning, and singing as the cars passed us by giving us every kind of look a face can give.

Two girls picked us up intending to give us a ride an exit or two, they were blown away by the relative distance we had already come and the idea of hitchhiking all together. They played great music and took us to Mechanicsburg, PA about 20 miles down the road. We stopped at a liquor store in town and they gave us money to buy them a handle of rum, they were both under 21. We got their rum and used our 10 dollars from earlier to buy ourselves some Whiskey. They left us with a small golden Buddha statue as a token of thanks and dropped us off at the on ramp.

We waited for our next ride as the sun went down, eager to get one more ride and then enjoy our new bottle. When the sun was far down and no cars were stopping we threw our packs on our backs in search for a place to set up camp for the night. After checking one non-suitable spot just down the on ramp we walked back up and a car actually stopped right then and there, of course we hopped in.

Fred was his name, we couldn't be happier to get one last ride, all be it just 20 or so miles down the road. Getting out of the car Fred handed me a 20 dollar bill and wished us well, the sun still hanging in the horizon. A huge grin was plastered to my face, Heather's face, the world was alive, we hugged each other jumping up and down in the shoulder of America's freeway.

We set up camp in the woods near a school just off the freeway, with whiskey in hand we left our camp and headed towards the nearby Walmart where we cleaned up a bit and grabbed some bread and other food for the rest of our trip. We sat next to Walmart with our bottle of whiskey laughing about the day and taking hearty sips, we grabbed some coke too just to be fancy there in Carlise, Pa. We journeyed back to our campsite, passing the high school crowd in the parking lot enjoying a night they've lived 100 times. We drank in the heat of the tent until sleep took over.

Water in West Virginia (day 4)
In the morning we used the Walmart to clean up again and were back to the side of the road with our thumbs. We got a ride from a man who's words came out like a bowl of pudding when he spoke, all jumbled together yet somehow consistent and barely discernible. He dropped us at a sad exit 15 miles down the road after we pushed through morning traffic.

We waited a while at that exit, cars few and far between. After our longest wait of the trip at that point, a minivan stopped driven by a woman filled with 4 cups of coffee who's talking never quit. She used to trip on acid all the time in her day, and now was a nurse. She drove us to a much busier spot. We turned down a couple rides that were only going an exit or two further, and finally hopped in Pat's car, a commuter who got us to Maryland and the I-70.

We took the time then to sit down to a peanut butter sandwich, Heather picked berries on the side of the road to sweeten up the meal. We went to yet another on ramp, thumbs out, singing, smiling. A man stopped, but was going the wrong direction, we waited longer. The same man came back 20 minutes later with his daughter and said he really wanted to help, we hopped in and he gave us a ride to a gas station down I-70 just a pinch.

We filled our bottles and sat just outside the gas station waiting for a state trooper to keep on his way before revealing our thumbs. A car pulled up in front of us, a young guy got out and said a casual hello to me as he walked in the gas station. I glanced at his license plate and saw that it said Morgantown on it, the very city we were trying to get to, or rather the last big city on the freeway in West Virginia. When he came back out I approached him, before I could even get a bit of our story out he told us to hop in.

Lance was his name, coming back from work, I think in Delaware of all places, he'd just met a great girl out there to replace his ex-girlfriend with whom he still lived with. We all told stories and were laughing with each other through the scenic roads coming into West Virginia. As we got closer he offered to let us stop at his place to grab a shower. When we got even closer he decided and we agreed to check out the river that he grew up playing in.

He pulled over on the side of the windy West Virginia road and we went down to the river, we all stripped down to our underwear and jumped in. We jumped off a decent sized rock, and then swam down river to the massive boulder in the distance. This was about a 30 foot jump, one which Lance and I did twice while a nearby rafting tour of families cheered us on. Heather jumped from a smaller ledge for fear of heights, but loved it all the same.

We headed back to Lance's place for our shower, he battled his ex Laryn on the phone with the idea of bringing a couple strangers to their home, she gave in and we arrived. She was friendly when we got there, at least to Heather and I, a somewhat flirty tension stayed with Lance and her. He handed us both a cold beer and we cleaned up in the shower, after which it was essentially decided that the night was for partying and we were to sleep there that night. I made a beer run with Lance, stopping at his folks place first where he gave me a special water bottle with a built in filter. I also met his mom, skeptical of me, skeptical of Lance, skeptical about everything. We got our beer and went back to Heather and Laryn who were busy in the kitchen fixing dinner.

The beer started flowing well, at one point Lance's dad stopped by with his truck and the three of us headed to some garage to lift some large rusty something or other up on to it. We drove back all with beers in hand, Lance asked his dad for some pot which he gladly gave him, and then Lance gave it to me saying he didn't smoke, at least not now with a drug test coming up. Heather and I smoked in the basement looking out into his garden.

It was then decided that we would go for a drive to one of his favorite spots. The music blasted, Heather and I belted out lyrics with a cooler of beer between us in the back seat, "Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right, here I am, stuck in the middle with you!".

When we got to the spot it was chained off, apparently for military reasons, but Lance parked the car, we all grabbed a fresh beer, and walked up the hill along the path into the woods with a warning to duck and hide at the sign of anything. A little ways up the hill we snuck into the woods and came upon a river with a 45 foot water fall smashing into it. I stripped down to my bathing suit climbing the rocks in the river, Lance jumped in and swam around and then told me to follow him. The girls waited below while I followed the path to the top until we were there, standing above the beast looking down at the girls in the water lit only by the moon. Lance jumped first, popped up while the girls cheered and yelled. I aimed for the same spot, flying down towards the water and splashing in, me feet barely touched the sandy bottom of the river and I popped up the same cheers and jubilation.

Without saying anything we all headed towards the base of the water fall, grabbing on to rocks to keep from being pushed away from the heavy current. Heather and I emerged behind the waterfall on opposite sides as Lance and Laryn approached too, all of us in the cave behind the mystique of the falls. I went towards the falling water, and climbed up on a rock feeling all the wind and mist it produced, then I stuck my head directly under the falls getting pelted by water harder than any rain I'd ever felt, my hands in the air in total ecstasy thinking of the entire trip here, the past year, how the hell I was in West Virginia standing underneath a waterfall in the middle of the night with these people.

I gave Heather my hand to get her up the slippery rock and she too felt the water beating down, smiling and laughing with the same pure joy I had, the realization that we had both chose a style of living that leads to such random and beautiful circumstances. At that moment we caught each other's eyes above the smiles plastered on our faces, the only thing we could do was kiss, we embraced thinking of everything and nothing, the thunderous sound of the water crashing and million of drops of water hitting our heads, perhaps the only time I've kissed someone out of pure necessity and passion without a thought of any implication beyond the moment itself.

We basked in it for another minute before I jumped through the waterfall back into the river followed by everyone else. Lance and I jumped from the top once more before we gathered our clothes and headed back down the road. Once in the car again we were cruising, music blasting, a new song every 10 seconds.

Lance then asked "You want me to jump the bridge?", I didn't know what he meant, Heather didn't, in unison we answered "Jump the bridge! Jump the bridge!", and so he did, the bridge was a bit of a straight away and he reached 100 miles per hour to shoot across it. He continued driving in this manner, the roads twisted through the woods on mountain like terrain, he never slowed below 70, he knew these roads damn well.

We tore up that town, quite literally, he found yards to do donuts in, chased off deer, and kept at a steady 80mph in between all of this until he finally tore through his own yard and into his driveway. Our drinking continued inside, music, moving around, eventually the pseudo flirty tension between Lance and Laryn hit a breaking point, Lance jumped in his car and hit it trying to get away from her. She jumped in her car and the chase was on, leaving Heather and I to our own devices, alone in this odd West Virginia house under ridiculous circumstances. Eventually Lance's mother came through the door, worried about everything, disgusted by our presence, but too distracted to care, she wanted to find Lance. We told her he was gone and she went into the night looking for him. Somewhere in this passed out on the couch.

Everything is All Good (days 5-11)
We awoke in the morning to Lance's mother coming through the door again, "Wake up, I'm taking you to Masontown.", we stumbled off the couch and collected our things. Lance had hit an embankment at that steady 80mph, he was fine, his car was mostly fine to the naked eye, save for a flat tire and a layer of dirt. A few of our things were locked in his car, Laryn had to pick him up at his folks place so he could come unlock it, we got our things and said our thanks and goodbyes and saddled up in his mom's car, leaving our West Virginia surprise and transitioning to whatever was next.

She didn't aprove of us, Lance's mom. She interogated us, questioning our very being, a thin layer of worry for Heather and total disregard for me. We smiled our way through explanations until she was sick of us and our answers, she picked up a friend on the way and they talked about cats and family sickness and whatever else women like that talk about.

We soon found ourselves dropped off standing on a bumpy dirt road on route the festival, we started walking down it until a pickup truck let us in with the same destination, a line of traffic had already begun in this small little town. When they stopped traffic completely we walked on to a field where hundreds of people were wating for the gates to open, everyone happy, drinking, laughing.

We found the work exchange tent to inquire about getting into the festival for free, they gave us wrist bands and shirts telling us we could work cleanup the 2 days following the festival, we were in. We caught a ride in another pickup truck when they opened the gates, we were sitting on coolers the drivers told us to help ourselves, so we laughed with our beers on the ride up, everyone shouting at everyone saying hello and good times.

We setup our tent in one spot and moved it shortly to be close to a group of people we met in the field earlier. The festival vibe was unreal, there were people as far as the eye can see, and everyone was on something. Everyone was working too it seemed, walking around, "Doses! Molly! Headies!", trying to sell all they had. We spent our days relaxing and nights listening to music on the great big hill. At night it was transformed, people lined the hill so tightly it appeared to be one big blanket of people, many with glow sticks and flashing lights. We explored every patch of the blanket seeing it from every angle. Heather was pure happiness, spinning with the grass between her toes, she rarely wears shoes and doesn't belong in them.

After 3 or 4 days of controlled madness the tents started to disappear with the people. We wandered abandoned campsites in search of forgotten food, beer, and whatever else people would leave behind. We cooked some discovered hotdogs, and we sat with a deck of cards and the bottom of a forgotten whiskey bottle. While we were playing a girl came with a bag of wine she wasn't going to drink, so that too we enjoyed. Moments after that a group came with a small bottle of vodka we also enjoyed, it was a great night.

In the morning we relaxed for a while before packing our tent to relocate to the staff campsite. We set it up and checked in for clean up. With 30 or 40 other people we swept the fields littered with the remnants of 18 thousand peoples things, from cigarette buts to abandoned tents. With the nature of the festival everyone ground scored a wide array of drugs, drinks, beads, lighters, and other treasures forgotten or abandoned. To our surprise they called dinner time, they fed us a giant buffet with everything. We'd been eating peanut butter sandwiches all week, and not many of them. We filled our bellies to the very brim.

Back at the campsite a fire got going, a great fire. All of us sat around in a great circle, bowls being passed around with the day's ground scores that never ended, abandoned beers in many of our hands, stories being told, a smile on every face, laughter between everything, everyone was happy. The next day brought the same, with the addition of breakfast and lunch where we again managed to stuff ourselves. More ground scores during the day, more fire at night, more hapiness.

Starting the Trek to New Orleans (day 12)
The next morning we caught a ride out early from someone else who was cleaning with us, he dropped Heather and I off at the 81 in Hagerstown, MD about 2 hours away. We waited on the on ramp again, back in the real world, thumbs out, sign up. A truck stopped on the on ramp, not for us, but to take a leak in the woods. None the less he shouted at us or maybe us at him, and the next minute we were in his truck headed down the freeway. His name was Brad, he said it like Breead. He didn't talk much, just enough to say he was bound a town near Knoxville, TN. Heather read in the back on the bed, I went in and out of sleep on the passenger side.

We landed in a truck stop at dark and went to clean up, when we got back to the truck Brad had put down the top bunk, we both climbed to the top and watched a couple movies with Brad and slowly passed out.

Keeping it Moving (day 13)
We awoke in the morning to the motor starting, I lept down and grabbed my shoes which were outside the truck, Heather had thrown them just outside the night before for all of our sakes, 1 more minute and they would have been lost forever. We went to drop off a load with the truck with hopes he would get dispatched home which was closer to New Orleans. We waited hours to discover he would actually be heading back to New York, so we got out at the next truck stop in search of a new ride.

A van of illegals picked us up, they said they were headed for Los Angeles and could drop us off in Memphis. We weren't sure why, but they dropped us off near Nashville instead which made little sense to our route, but there we were. It wasn't long until we were in a new ride, a minivan driven by a Chicago man and his wife. They were happy and eager to help us, sharing stories and going off their route to get us back on track, which strangely was a faster route for them afterall. They left us at a Waffle House, a craving built from our conversation of the south. We once again stuffed our bellies as much as we could, sipped on coffee, and headed back to the road.

A pickup truck slowed down with a giant plant in the passenger seat. Heather and I hopped in the back and rolled down the freeway. He pulled some pot from a compartment in his car and smoked us out well, leaving us further down the road and perhaps too stoned, but very happy. We waited for our next ride, for once enjoying the wait in hopes to come down just a bit from the smoke and seem somewhat normal. A tiny white car stopped with a small town driver, his explanation for picking us up echoed many of the others, "I don't usually pic kup hitchhikers, but y'all look innocent enough". We drove just near the Alabama border in Pulaski, TN. We picked u