Right now I'm in Three Forks, Mont., a legendary place for trout anglers. This time I have no flyrod, but it feels like I've been fishing. Most of the day I stand and face a heavy current. The noise is constant, like a fast, rocky river. I find myself focusing on what's coming at me, and missing the sky, the passing clouds and their shadows on the cedar-dotted rimrocks. I keep checking for feeding lines -- in this case, merge lanes or construction slowdowns where the fish might be more likely to bite. And of course the suspense is excruciating. Is this car my ride? The next one? And when I finally pull one close to hand, is it a really big one?
Today, a very big one. About 20 miles outside of Glendive, Mont., a fellow in a dusty Saturn station wagon pulled over.
"Where you going?" Only a little younger than me. Short hair. Mustache. Another driver with a tiny dog in his lap.
"Seattle, but anywhere west," I said, figuring 75 miles to Miles City was about the best I could hope for.
"How far are you going?"
"Idaho," he said.
Score!
"Best money I've ever made in my life," he said, even though he described the entire enterprise as "destroying the planet. No two ways about it."
He's been living in a big camper/trailer in his boss's driveway in New Town, N.D., , since there's no other housing available in the region. "I don't live there; I just work there," he said. He'll do it for maybe five more years, and then. . .maybe hitchhike, he added.
A former long-haul truck driver, Dan had also hitchhiked all over the country when he was younger.
"Never had a bad experience. Never," he said.
We sorted out the geography. He was going to Boise, so he'd have to turn south at Bozeman, Mont., while I continued west. But it was still probably 300 miles. He stopped in Miles City for a brief visit to his sister, and dropped me at a coffee shop, but made good on his promise to return and pick me up for the rest of the ride. Turns out he was a birther, very concerned about the government tracking us all via GPS, and thought Catholics were suspicious and odd and sort of anti-American (since they're not Protestants). But he and his dog Tea were good, relaxed traveling companions. Besides, you don't argue with your driving host in the middle of shade-free Montana on a 97-degree day.
When he'd first picked me up, he surprised me with an immediate question.
"Do you have money?"
I was a little startled, and quickly said, yes, I had a little money. Turns out it's the one concern he has in picking up hitchhikers.
"It can be expensive," he said. "They want to smoke your cigarettes and eat your food and drink your water."
Brought my own. So all was well.
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Two other rides (details later):
**Kevin (pronunced KEEvin), a 20-year-old, barefoot self-described "hippie" and young father from Glendive who's not working in the oil boom "because you can't work in the oil fields and smoke pot." But he starts tomorrow cleaning rooms at the Days Inn, where I'd stayed. He got me about 20 miles to Terry, MT, where Dan picked me up for the long ride to Bozeman.
**Joe, who screeched to halt on the shoulder at Bozeman in his doorless Jeep, actually kicking up gravel. He'd been in town only a few weeks from Idaho, landed one job as a D.J. in a strip club ("Playing music for naked girls!" -- Jeeps make a guy shout) and another with a landscape company, and was soon going to web design school. He took me about 20 miles to Three Forks, where I am now.
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Eleven rides so far, 976 miles, not including the Northstar train ride to Big Lake.
Past two days: 876 miles.
Today: 394.
Left to Twisp: about 600
Left to Seattle: abut 800
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Nice weather expected again tomorrow.
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Someone asked today what I wish I'd brought.
Answer: More hours of sunlight, and a sherpa. (Pack is heavy. Shoulders raw.)
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Subject for later: What's up with truckers? I've never in my life gotten a ride in a semi. But several people have told me to go door to door at truck stops, and have them ask around on the CB for drivers going m way. Wasted half an hour doing that today. Is it just legend?
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Goal for tomorrow: Get going early, by 7 a.m.,. and get at least to Coeur d"Alene (338) or Spokane (371).
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Are these posts too long? What do you want to know that I'm not addressing?
Keep on truckin' Bill! I think I have a theory on the long-haul driver deal. Back in the day, when I thumbed around for adventure and recreation, the word was that truckers are prevented by their employers and\or insurance companies from taking on passengers. I guess there are liability issues. Once or twice I was picked up by independent drivers, guys who work for themselves and aren't as bridled by lawyers and rules. One guy picked me up to help him unload. Out in North Dakota I once saw a trucker pick up two young German women thumbing a ride at the end of a truck stop on-ramp. Maybe they make exceptions for cute foreign girls... But that won't help you.
ReplyDeleteLove your stuff. I see a great article coming.
No, the posts are not too long! Keep them coming.
ReplyDelete