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.