9/22- Seattle

The morning returned me once more to my buses, though these were far more streamlined than the ones on Saturday. Daniel lent me Walden as well which I started reading on that trip down. I'd never really read Thoreau before, I knew of his ideas and thought I knew about his deeds, but I'd soon be finding a drastically different man than what I'd expected.

I read the full hour of the first leg before I was dropped off in Poulsbo again for my connecting hop to the ferry. While there I kept reading until a kid swung by and asked me what Thoreau was bitching about now. He guessed at the same time that I spoke leaving us saying collectively, "Clothes". I have to say, I'm a little disappointed in the guy.

That kid and I only talked briefly before he realized my opinion of him. We both agreed that Thoreau was a bit of a whiny bitch, and that he had good overall ideas, but seems to fit more in the category of McCandless's breed than Ghandi or King's. The introduction clued me in to the fact that Thoreau didn't live out in the wilds at all, but a mile from his mother's kitchen. He, as well, goes on with the great line "I have traveled a good deal in Concord" to show that he is a towny. I'm not quite sure if I'm annoyed with him, or simply his icon, because I agree with many of his ideas. My problem, which I realized while briefly annoying this kid at the bus stop, is that what I've read so far all seems like theory that he doesn't want to strain himself too much for to test. He also seems to go on at length about his labors seemingly to let us know he isn't just a guy squatting on his Mom's land for free. I'll have to read more, but that's my initial impression.

Anyway, I got into Seattle sometime around noon, again with no real concrete plans, so I dropped in on Trish again. This time she was working at D'Annunzio's across from our old coffee shop. She made me a sandwich while we caught up briefly, then devised a plan to hang out later in the night once she got off of work. From there I put out some calls and hit the library for an hour. By the time I got out Laura and I finally made arrangements to meet up.

Once again, plan making with me is quite difficult when I drop into town for a visit. Not only because my phone usually isn't on, I rarely know precisely what day I'll be in town, and usually call when I arrive rather than before hand, but also because most of my friends are exactly the same way. Laura is one of these friends, though I had decided to turn the phone on for the day to try and make things run a little bit smoother.

Laura is actually a former employee of mine. I'd hired her to be a truck driver when I was running the SPUD warehouse mostly because her resume showed she was a sea captain and I wanted to have someone driving for me who I could call Captain. We've never hung out outside of work, which was two years ago, but we did keep up on occasional sporadic emails. When we met up that afternoon I found out she's far more nomadic than even I am.

We met up in the U-District where the college kids hover and caught up over a few beers then took a little walk when we got tired of that. I hadn't really known too much about her, other than the sea captain business and that she lived in Steamboat Springs as ski patrol for a bit. It turns out she's been all over the world sleeping in the streets of Johannesburg, drinking in dive bars in Laos and Singapore, and just got back from Chile not too long ago. Clearly we didn't know too much about each other since, while talking of Johannesburg, assured me that of all the places in the world that one I could avoid for safety reasons which just served to put in on my list of places I want to go now.

After about three hours or so she went off to meet some other friends and I went off to meet up with Lawrence. He was at his house working on a project, as I'm getting the impression seems to be what he is eternally doing. It took me a little over an hour to walk over there, passing through my old neighborhood along the way, and when I got there, there he was in his workshop devising a new type of dome structure. The more I learn about him the more fascinated I get.

He had some things to move around in his storage unit, so we chatted as I helped him out with that, then, after meeting his neighbor, Maria, he took me out for a burger again. I was a bit of a disappointment that I wasn't staying in town longer since he was going down to Portland the next day to go rollerskating with a friend and wanted me to come along. It did sound fun, but I told him about finding a job and all that, so after the burger I headed back downtown to meet up with Trish.

On the way, I reconnected with Penney and Robert and their adventures. It seems the fates haven't passed them by on their travels either. They had gotten into Portland, picked up their friend Joe, and gone down to Eugene to visit some of his friends. They all live in a coop, much like the one Todd and I visited in Oklahoma City, and Penney liked it so much she decided to stay. Robert then decided he'd roam around Oregon finding farms to volunteer on and learn while Penney brings in the real funds, and then he'll drop back in to visit on weekends.

I got off the phone with them right by the Merchant Cafe where Trish was hanging out. That was a hoot. Tricia always seems to attract the more odd sorts of folks, and tonight was no exception. We ended up drinking with Krystal and her husband, and Krystal was covered in ridiculous plastic gem jewelery that was simply amazing, yelling about her uterus and that her husband has many eggs. Most of the night was babysitting her, and fixing her flashlight that she broke when she tumbled off her chair. Its probably one of those things you had to be there for, but it was truly great. I haven't lost my breath laughing in a long time.

That night I stayed and Trish and Chris', her boyfriend. The next morning I rode the bus in with her and we were treated to a guy wheeling his "perfect wife" onto the bus. They were dressed identically in black sweaters, pants, boots and goggles, though the wife had on one of those S&M crotch belts on. She was strapped to his wheely luggage because she is a plastic mannequin. Through out the entire ride he was professing to a lady sitting nearby that his wife was the perfect wife because there was no back talk, no waiting games, and knew her place. Fair enough, I suppose.

I left Tricia downtown and returned to the library for a bit. Chieu and I had arranged to meet up after 5pm and I'd yet to reach Rachel. I got a text from her, however, on my way out of the library and within fifteen minutes we were sitting outside of Top Pot having a coffee.

Rachel's a special one to me for bonding over this kind of lifestyle. She's studying nursing right now, and when she started back up in school she'd told me it was part of her training to be a hit man. I'd never really dug that deep into my spiritual philosophies with her until this meeting and was amazed out how alike we are. After a little while in the sun we retired to her new apartment and talked for hours about everything. It was a really great visit. I even ended up pushing meeting up with Chieu back to 7pm since it seemed like leaving at 4:30pm would be cutting something really good short.

Eventually I did go, though. We both had friends to meet up with, and I was excited to see Chieu as well. I had to work the next day again, but by this point I still hadn't decided if I'd head back that night or the next morning. Chieu ended up making that decision for me.

We met up at my old favorite, Bau Haus, which was actually where she and I had met for the first time. From there we grabbed dinner at a Vietnamese restaurant on Broadway where we caught up on everything that was going on. Its funny, because her boyfriend, Scott, is yet another who has suddenly got a supreme interest in sailing and also spends the bulk of his days traveling the world. By the end of dinner Chieu, being the more organized between us, insisted I figure out if I even had the option of leaving tonight. I did, but I'd have had to have left right then, and she was inviting me to stay at her place anyway which sounded nice.

Busing back to her place we continued our visit. She'd rented Australia, an absurdly long movie, but we watched that for the evening drinking milk and eating truffles.

9/20- The Slow Down

Since arriving in Port Townsend on the 9th life seemed to suddenly crank up its speed. From the rope climbing, sailing, Todd's visit, getting a job, and all the little things in between Saturday was promising to continue that pace. Thankfully, but much to my chagrin at the time, it didn't.

The plan Friday night when Todd and I left for the movies was that we'd leave at 9am for Seattle. From there Todd would catch a bus back to Santa Fe at 1:15pm. That would give us leisure time to peruse the city for an hour or so before getting to the station. As seems to be our way with plans they changed over night. There were five people to coordinate with for the ride down, all of whom had shifting schedules that had been changing all week. The fifth was a girl who was going to catch a ride down with us for a gathering Wendie was going to. As far as what was known of our end of the plans, all Wendie knew was that we needed to be in Seattle for a 1:15pm bus.

We woke up around 8:30am or so to find the plans had changed. Rather than getting out of the house by 9am we left by 9:30am missing the 10:35am ferry out of Bainbridge to Seattle. This heightened a mood that was already feeling heavy. The dynamics over the week had continued to feel a little odd as Wendie and Daniel were hosting more than they'd intended and Todd was struggling with finding a place to go, ending up unenthusiastically finding his way home again in the end. With the missed ferry came the prospect of possibly missing the bus since Greyhound has a habit of over selling buses and if you're not their early you can be shunted along to the next bus leaving five hours later. It was a cluster of miscommunications that day.

Oddly, the tone was set from the beginning with the weather. Since arriving it had been bright and sunny all week, this Saturday it was overcast and rainy. It had rained in the night as well and Todd had left his phone out of the bivy since the night before we were staring up at stars. This caused extra havoc since his phone got washed out and was still needing to make calls to Shalain for arrangements.

This was the beginning of the day.

Thankfully the fifth girl had decided to cancel. With the weather Daniel became nervous about his boat loosely anchored out in the bay so he decided to stay as well and take care of it. It ended up just being Wendie, Todd, and I riding down, and just Todd and I being dropped at the ferry since Wend intended to head over with Daniel in the evening after her gathering.

I had been trying to reach people all day to meet up. Lawrence's days off were Monday and Tuesday, Laura was at a wedding, Rachel was moving until 4pm, Trish is a drop in anyway, and I couldn't get a hold of Chieu. The day was not looking good, and I still wasn't sure if I'd be able to make it back to work Sunday afternoon. Getting to the ferry terminal Todd finished up his repacking and I finally did the final checking on the two buses I wasn't sure about for returning the next morning. As it turned out, those buses didn't run Sundays.

About fifteen minutes before the ferry arrived to take us to Seattle I decided not to go. Todd would be taking a cab straight to the bus station, I had no real plans with anyone over there other than Rachel at 4pm, and this new discovery had me leaving Seattle that day at 3:30pm to make it to work Sunday. I walked Todd down the gangway and bid him good luck. It seemed we needed plenty of it this day. Thankfully before he left he gave me $10 to get him some mate Daniel had been telling him about whenever I finally did make it to the city.

Turning around to head back I looked over my finances and discovered it was a very good thing Todd gave me that cash. I had miscalculated in my books and found out I was short a few bucks for the many buses I'd be going home on. It only cost $4.50 all told, but when you have $3 it can be a problem. I got a coffee for some change and began my wait for the bus in a somewhat aggravated mood. Luckily it was Saturday, a phone day.

I called my Dad to see what he was up to and had a really good, over due chat with him and found out he's doing quite a bit of writing of his own lately. After that I caught my first bus to Poulsbo then spent a good while talking to my Mom as well. She was in Maine at Chauncy's, a favorite lobster place of her Dad's, with her sister Holly who was in for the week. Holly lives out in LA and was visiting my Mom to support her through a process of getting new eyes, as my Mom says. She's always had horrible vision, but finally has come across new contacts that bring her 50/20 vision up to 20/20 vision. The two of them were having a great time just hanging out all week.

The connection in Poulsbo was a four and a half hour wait so I visited the library as well, and spent some time catching up with Ang back in Denver on the phone. There was a strip mall nearby with a grocery store, so I bought some crackers and peanut butter to eat for the last hour of my wait at the bus stop. While there I ended up sharing them with this guy, Mike, who was hobbling around on a bum leg. He and I had a good chat for a while about my travels and his life. In fact, he'd seemed bummed about the long wait before we started talking, then when his girlfriend called a while later I heard him say everything was great and he was having a good time, so I guess I wasn't boring him.

About a half an hour before the connecting bus came the bus showed up coming from Port Townsend. When I checked if I needed to get on that bus Daniel hopped off, so I chatted with him while waiting for that bus to swing around and head the other way. By the time I got back to the house I put on a movie and zoned out for the night.

Sunday I returned to work and had a great time meeting Jessica. She was the girl working with me that day and was just full of life. It was completely dead in the shop all day, so she and I just spent time getting to know each other as we wiped things down. A little after I got home, Wendie and Daniel returned and we all retired to a movie. The shuttling through had ended and now I felt like I'd dropped, temporarily, back into the regular day-to-day life I left in March.

9/18- My Work Week

Monday morning was a big to do as Scott and Gail, Daniel's friends we'd had coffee with the day before, came over for breakfast before they headed back east past the Sound and Cascades to eastern Washington. Wendie and Daniel were now hosting quite a crew as Matt and I were still staying there, Scott and Gail were coming in for breakfast, and then, of course, the two of them tucked around a table in their little apartment. As we sat around eating and visiting it reminded me of meals in the little cottage my family used to rent when I was a kid back at Lake Winnipesaukee in New Hampshire. It was one of those island bound cabins with no amenities, and just a front porch and a fireplace to crowd in on as the family gathered.

After breakfast, with a quick tour of the garden outside, Scott and Gail were off, then Matt as well, and finally Wendie and I were bound for work. As mentioned in the previous post, Wendie works for a non-profit called Third Ear Project which has been having severe financial difficulties this year. So much so that Wendie only works 10 hours a week despite a mother load of work that needs to be done. Being that I am in town with little to do other than visit with my sister I figured I'd volunteer my assistance. It would surprisingly turn out to be quite profitable for me in the end.

Now, I've skipped over a few important events that happened over the weekend because it seemed more fitting to talk about them now. The first was that Wendie's boss, Alex, who is the only other person in the office had a horrible accident Friday night, a day after I'd met him in town. He was out riding his bike and ran into an unseen ditch that flipped him over the handlebars landing him on his head and right arm. It knocked him out so bad that when he came to he had no idea where he was and barely had the senses about him to call his girlfriend to come find him. In the end, he had a concussion, his face got all messed up, his right arm was broken, and possibly has some broken ribs. All of these are bad things beyond the obvious because he's the only one who worked full time in the office, and is the one who goes out to pitch the organization to places like the Rotary Club who are unaccustomed to seeing scabbed faces and casts before them. Not the best for fund raising at a time when business is suffering.

From all this, my help was quite welcome so I spent the day working a bit of computer stuff like data entry and organizing things. For me the day was great, I felt useful and was just puttering along at my own pace enjoying feeling the facade of settlement again. Meanwhile my sister was not having a very good day. There were obvious stresses in the office over what to do now and how to get things done. The organization teaches classes, and they were starting that week, but had only one student for it. So by the time we were driving home again she was beating herself up for a whole myriad of reasons.

The other event I'd skipped was a call I'd gotten from Todd over the weekend. We'd talked on Saturday as usual, though only sporadically because he had been taken in by a billionaire down in Portland and was between soirees with the Prince of Ghana and the President of Wells Fargo Bank. Yeah, that's billionaire, with a "B". From what I could gather he was quite possibly either heading to Canada, or getting dropped off here. All of this was very tricky timing with the elements here on the home front.

I found myself in Todd's position just a week earlier, though different. Where I was coming into Boise in the dead of night with no official nod to stay at his newly found sisters house, now Todd was possibly dropping in to a recently crowded home from the weekend while tensions were growing at work and personal space was a definite need. As Todd had felt, I likewise didn't want to leave him hanging saying, no, don't come, the timing is bad. The happy medium was to have him camp out with me should he be popping in.

The next day was much better. Wendie felt more productive, Alex had given a great Rotary Club presentation despite being banged up, and due to my updates of the website pushing the class two weeks back we'd gotten several students signed up. By now I had also gotten a pretty good idea that Todd was planning on stopping in as well. On our way home from work, as Wendie was asking me if Todd was coming in that night or the next, he called saying he was on the ferry approaching town. Wendie stopped in for groceries and I walked down to meet him.

It was an understated self consciousness with both Wendie and I that it wasn't the most hospitable welcome for him of "welcome to our home, here's the woods", but the nice thing about Todd is that all he wants is honesty and he's happy regardless of the situation when he gets the straight answer. I had warned him when he was still in Portland of the situation here, but on the same tune, I was camping out as well and he would simply be joining me. Either way, it was a good reunion as we met up just passed the ferry dock and I was able to catch up some on what had been happening in Portland as we walked back to meet my sister.

That night we all had dinner together and the mood was much lighter than it had been the night before. We all retired somewhat early and the next day I had volunteered to do some errands for Third Ear. With Todd in town now I figured it was the perfect sort of work. At the end of the previous day we'd printed up a bunch of revised fliers to replace around town and it seemed fitting to wander around and show Todd the town. Daniel works from home, so it also helped to vacate the house for the day to let him concentrate.

Port Townsend is one of those quaint little Victorian sea towns that are just adorable to wander through, and we took our time doing it. It also provided us the time to really beat around the ideas behind the weekend Todd had just had. It had been such a flurry outside of a normal days events that it seemed it helped Todd to have someone to voice them too.

I would highly recommend checking out his write up on it all, but the long and the short of it seemed to boil down to the struggles of escaping identity. The billionaire, Andre, had been bitten by a brown recluse spider some years ago and was now clearly dying of it. He had all the money in the world, and as Todd found out, apparently quite a good insight into spirituality as well and the two aspects were in deep conflict. Along with Todd Andre had taken in another hitcher from Canada, and with both he was treating them to a lifestyle neither had likely ever tasted. From what I gathered he believed seemingly random encounters all reasons behind them, much like Todd and I do, and that helping others along was a key aspect to living a good life.

What the conflict seemed to be was his identity as a man made of money. I'll let
Todd give all the details, as its his story, but essentially he seemed only to be able to offer gifts that enhanced vanity and prestige rather than genuine service to another. This was a gold mine for Todd and I to explore that day and it retouched into our differences over the benevolently mis-channeled suburban kid archetype, like those on charity vacations as Todd calls them. In short, that debate of ours is a reexamination of the old adage "its easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than a rich man to get into heaven". My question has always been, what does a rich man do then? I suppose, to answer my own question quickly and to keep in the Biblical references doing so, I guess you just treat money in the same way as manna in that it should be a non-hoardable resource.

This segues quite nicely into how the rest of the day progressed. Early in our fliering route we stopped in at a coffee shop that was hiring. I asked, clumsily, it they would consider hiring me for a week or so until they got a permanent fixture in. Of course they refused, and I really hadn't expected them to say yes anyway which was why I sort of bumbled through the procedure. Todd saw it and offered a way to rephrase and see if I could fill the gap while in town with my 9 years of experience behind me. Later in the day we hit another shop that was hiring. I tried this new approach, was handed an application, and told the best time to talk to the owner would be between 6am and 7am. The next day I rose at 5:30am, had breakfast with Wend on her way to her other job at the Challenge Course in Port Angeles, then meandered down to the Tyler St. Cafe to meet Teresa, the owner.

Teresa didn't even really look at the application. I pitched her the idea and she told me to come in the next day at 5:30am to open and see how much training I would need. It turned out one of her two baristas was taking a week off the first week of October and the Port Townsend Film Festival was also coming to town the following weekend and both baristas were anxious to get time off and join in.

Now to go back to that idea of money as manna. Before all the defensive hate mail starts pouring in about it being great that I can profess wandering around penniless while others have responsibilities to take care of I understand all that. I am, by no means, suggesting that everyone should just trust to faith that money will appear whenever its needed. All I would like to do is write about the incidents in which it does happen to me, or anyone else I hear about to hopefully reduce the stress of those who are bending over backwards to make ends meet in order to take care of themselves and their family. I still have quite a difficult time trusting in that idea, but being in the fortunate position I'm in I've decided it be a wasted chance not to test it out.

I'm not sure if I've told this story before on here about my Nana back when she was raising my Dad, but its such a good story I'm going to tell it again if I did. When they first moved to the town a grew up in in the '50s they were having a lot of bad financial trouble. Nana was a very religious woman of Christian Science and there are hundreds if not thousands who would attest to her kindness, but one day she found herself with no money in the bank and no food to feed her family with in the cupboards. She went grocery shopping anyway, rationalizing that her family was more important than a bit of business to the grocery store and had resolved to write a bad check and make good on it later. In the meantime her kids would be fed.

When she got in line to the register she couldn't do it. She put everything back up on the shelves without saying a word and went home deciding that somehow something would work out. When she got back to the house her back steps were covered in grocery bags filled with groceries. It turned out her neighbors were going on vacation for a week and decided to give all their perishable food to them so as not to waste it.

Its my belief that things like this do happen, the trick seems not to rely on them happening. What then of my good fortune? I've often asked myself if I'm relying on this good luck that I have, and Todd has told me he worries that I am attempting to manipulate fate in this way. The only thing I can offer up is that I always am plotting some sort of plan as to what to do when I do get down to nothing. I got to zero in Denver, but I still did have my locked up savings which made that zero a false zero. Money came to me anyway though and let me unlock that savings and dole it out in different ways. I also left Denver low on cash figuring I could stop and work on the way, and by Boise it had tripled. The big one has been that I've been planning for a while to go to England in November, but had no idea how that would be funded. I worked out the hours I'll get from this job and the cost of a ticket there and back and it came out just a little over what I need. Spending money, I think.

Anyway, so that was the magic of the week. After getting the job that Thursday morning Todd and I went out to finish fliering the town. Todd's heel had started nagging him, though, so I dropped him off by the bay to write until I was done. On the way there I bought myself a congratulatory hat for the new job to replace the one I lost in Denver. I spent the rest of the day roaming outer Port Townsend and picked Todd up in the evening to head home again.

By now he was trying to figure out where to go. Originally the idea was out to Cape Alava to finally hit the Pacific this year, but with his heel going that didn't seem like such a good idea. Nothing else was really calling to him though, in fact, even that wasn't calling to him, it just seemed more like the thing to do. The other nagging thing was that on Saturday would be his birthday, and its always nice to do something fun for your birthday, regardless of how much you don't like celebrating them.

Friday morning I rose at 4:45am for my first day at work. It cracked me up that the girls there were on their best behavior for "the new guy". When they finally told me that I asked them to please stop since I do really badly with well behaved people and would much rather everyone just be themselves. At that they began petting me. One girl, Mary, had wanted to touch my hair and finally did when I told her to be herself, then her sister, Teresa, the owner, started stroking my arm hair. It cracked me up, and from then on I've been comfortable working there. I also got along quite well with the girl training me, Kelly, who was quite specific on getting my shots to pull perfectly... which is probably good for me in the end.

After work Todd and I hatched a plan to give Wendie and Daniel the house to themselves for the evening for the first time in a week. Todd had finally decided it seemed best to just head back home and recoup his heel issues. Talking to Shalain, his girlfriend, it turned out there was a paying house sitting gig waiting for him there. Another "it just shows up" example. We were all planning a trip to Seattle the next day anyway, and although a birthday Greyhound trip is a horrible sounding idea, the whole plan fit well together other than that. That night we borrowed Wendie's car and went to the drive through for an explosive evening of Inglorious Basterds and District 9. As Todd noted, we started the trek west with a drive-in and we're going to end it with one.

9/13- Lazy Weekend

The weekend here in Port Townsend was a very relaxed one. The Wooden Boat Festival saturated the little town with boat enthusiasts from all over and the sun stayed out with clear blue skies for thorough enjoyment of the event.

Wendie had work Saturday morning running a booth at the Farmer's Market, and Matt and Daniel had gone down for the day to admire all the wooden boats floating out in the harbor. I was happy to be left at the house for the day. For the most part, once I'd woken up, I spent the day on Wendie's computer updating posts in the quiet that I figured wouldn't last.

Around noon Wendie called to see if I could run down to the market and bring her a pair of shorts. This was my one break in the day that I took to get outside, and even manned the booth while she went off to change. I loved watching the people circulate through, and lazily mingle amongst each other for the day. The booth Wend was running was for the organization she works for, Third Ear Project, which teaches Non-violent Communication. I'd learn more about what that was in the next few days, but for that day, when ever anyone asked me what it was about I'd muddle my way through what I understood of it which, it seemed, related quite closely to how I'd relate to each ride that picked me up along the way. Essentially, just listening to what someone has to say, whether I agreed with the opinion or not, and responding to what's said, rather than what could be inferred as an opinion of me. Basically refraining from jumping to conclusions and automatically assuming people are judging you.

So that was the bulk of my Saturday, typing away with a brief venture outside. The day had more to promise, though, closer to when the sun set. Across the Sound, on Whidbey Island, Matt had a friend who was having a little gathering in Anacortes that night. Rolling with the synchronistic theme of my travels I had recently discovered my friend Laura lives there and had been trying to figure out how to coordinate visiting with her. Here it landed in my lap, yet again. Though the results didn't work out quite as I'd hoped.

I talked with Laura that afternoon about possibly meeting up that night and it turned out she was just heading out the door on a camping trip. Perhaps the timing of that wasn't meant to be, because next, as we sat in line for the ferry, we realized we weren't going to be getting on anytime soon. With the onset of the Wooden Boat Festival came a deluge of travelers that aren't normally there. Due to this the ferry fell behind schedule. So far behind schedule that we waited about an hour past its intended departure time, just barely didn't make a loading, and decided that getting to Anacortes was more trouble than it was worth. Instead, we turned around and had a nice evening at the drive in watching District 9 and (500) Days of Summer.

Sunday was a very different day for me. With all my website updating chores done I piled in the car with the crew after breakfast and we made our way back to Mystery Bay where the sailboat had been moored before. Matt had brought up a wide surf board from Seattle that, instead of surfing on, you stand and paddle around on. It seemed like the most absurd thing to do. When we got to the beach I watched as Matt just grabbed a paddle, pushed out into this serenely calm bay, and just stood up paddling around. It kind of reminded me of the pictures you see of poor Asian folks paddling around standing up crossing rivers.

I laid on the beach relaxing for a long while, then finally decided to give it a go. It was surprisingly really kind of fun in the most simple way. You just stand and paddle, literally, maintaining your balance the whole while. It was so relaxing just roving around the bay that way on the quiet of the water. I took it out twice, slid under a few docks just as something to do, and took some pictures out there on the calm. For the most part, though, I spent my time laying on the beach in full rest.

At one point a little girl, Paris, wandered over to us with her baby pug, Lucky. Her family had just gotten in from boating and were relaxing nearby, though out of sight. She was a funny one because she was surprisingly really social. Mostly she talked with Wendie and Daniel as they played with her puppy, but as I watched I was just so surprised by how easily she hung out with us.

As we got to know more about her we discovered she was 6 and from the area. It dawned on me then that my surprise at her sociability probably came a lot from being used to watching little kids growing up in a city. Out here in the more rural towns it seemed the parents were able to let loose the reins a bit more than in a city and kids were able to wander farther out of sight than a city kid would be, and so became more used to being off on their own. I don't know if that's true or not, but it seemed to fit in my head well.

Later in the day, we headed back into town and met up with some old friends of Daniel's for coffee. Matt stayed one last night after that, and Monday morning my work week would begin.

9/11- Hoist the Sails

At dinner the night before Wendie let me know that Daniel's friend Matt was coming up the next day to go sailing and would I want to go. Fuck yeah I do. In my first two days in Port Townsend I get go tree climbing and sailing, that's a good run. On top of it, it happens to be the weekend of the famed Port Townsend Wooden Boat Festival, so we'd be sailing with the pretty boys.

Again we rose early for more oats, Matt showed up and they consulted the sea charts, then off we went. There's no mucking about over here. We spent 7 hours out on that boat just roving around in Mystery Bay, then made our way out into Port Townsend Harbor where they were racing sailboats and showing off their schooners. Once again I neglected to use sunblock and by now my entire face is probably just a big skin cancer cell, but what ever, it was done in good fun.

Matt and Daniel are old sailing buddies from many years past. Matt is out of Marblehead, MA so he and Daniel were schooling me as far as what knots to do, how to hoist the sails, tacking, steering, etc. Daniel had also brought out his little dingy, which was what he used to get to the boat moored out in the harbor, and occasionally someone would decide to pull up along side the sailboat and get towed for a bit. Daniel even got in it and towed the sailboat with it over a sandbar into the main harbor.

For some while now I'd been looking to learn a bit more how to sail so this was quite a great day for me. By the end of it we were all knacked so we anchored it out by the town and rowed in for some coffee before going to get the cars. I volunteered to stay behind and watch the dingy as they would likely be gone for an hour or so.

While sitting on the beach watching the boat, I got to talking with quite an interesting guy. He was another unplugger. James was an older guy out of Denver by about two weeks. He was a builder who lived down by the Tech Center back there and did work for the governor and mayor. In the past month he got burnt out on feeling like "a bureaucrat" as he put it, pulled everything, and left. He got a ticket to San Diego and has been hitching his way up for the past two weeks until he got here. He too is interested in picking up a sailboat, knows nothing about it, and wants to learn how to sail down to Belize. Along the way, he'd picked up a companion, Amber, who was out of Pennsylvania, though they met in San Francisco.

We talked a bit, and he was still in the throes of feeling that energy of cutting free, but he was full of it. He was loving not being bound down anymore and agreed that this was the kind of living he needed. Meeting him was more impressionable to me just that I was meeting yet another one breaking out in this past year, and got me wondering to myself again why it is that this breaking free from these constraints seems to be increasing, or is it just that I've put myself in those path ways with breaking out myself.

Anyway, soon enough Daniel showed up and we returned home for dinner. Matt stayed over as well that night and I got access to the computer and spent way too long editing photos into the night.

9/10- String Him Up

Wendie and Daniel run an early rising house and I'd asked them to wake me so I could have breakfast with them in the morning. The standard here is oatmeal, so I fit in well. So in the morning I woke up to Wendie yelling out the side window for me to rise and shine and that breakfast was ready. Toss the bivy in the garage and hunker in for a meal.

Wend and I were going to head out to Sequim and Port Angeles for the day. She had an appointment in Sequim for an hour, so I occupied myself with her computer in a coffee shop for that, then later in the afternoon she has a Challenge Course that she's qualifying to be a facilitator for. As part of the qualifications she was going to learn how to do a high altitude rescue with ropes and things. I had volunteered to be the "victim" for her to practice rescuing on.

We spent a good while after her appointment in the coffee shop on the interwebs geeking out over Google Calendar. Both of us being gadgety, systems, organizational nuts we spent quite a while looking that over, then we went off to Port Angeles for the course. Trudy, the lady who runs the course, was quite pleased to have such a willing volunteer to be strung up in trees and rescued by novices. I liked her a lot as we chatted over our childhoods that were both spent dangling from trees and such things. She had that same glint in her eye of really wanting to do something adventurously stupid.

The afternoon was just fucking awesome. I've never been belaying on ropes before, or anything like that. Generally when I'm climbing things its usually illegal and unsafe, but I have no problems throwing on harnesses and safety hats for another excuse to scramble up something very high and dangle from a rope. That's what I did all afternoon with Wendie and another guy, Nate, learning how to cut me down.

Wendie gave me a tour of the Challenge Course afterward and I desperately wanted to play on it. Cargo nets, big wooden walls, rope swings, tight wires, it all calls my name. The point of the whole project was right up my alley as well. It is designed to encourage ingenuitive thinking and problem solving for seemingly impossible tasks. AA groups come through it using the walls as symbols for their issues with staying sober and children's groups come through teaching leadership, group cohesiveness, and outside of the box thinking.

We headed home after a good day of play and stopped in for groceries on the way back. I got a nice giant block of cheese and a big box of ghetto crackers. Chris happy. The hour ride home also gave Wend and I a good chance to really catch up on what's really going on with us these days. After a nice dinner with Daniel at home it was time to retire again to bed.

9/9- The Sibling Pick Up

Lawrence helped me figure out the bus system the next morning as Wend and I coordinated how she was going to get me. Port Townsend, where they live, is on the other side of the Sound and about an hour and a half up from where the Bainbridge ferry drops off. As it turned out, though, Daniel had business in Sedro-Wooley, due north of Seattle on this side of the Sound, and could scoop me up if I could get to Everett. All very complex.

He and I went out for coffee and chatted a bit more, then I helped him unpack his Burning Man stuff a bit and settle into his house again. We exchanged numbers and I figured I'd give him a call when I came back through town for my real Seattle visit of all my other friends there. From there, I walked downtown to my old coffee shop in search of my friend, Trish, before jumping on the bus north.

I was barely able to catch her. She no longer works at the shop, but I spotted her boyfriend across the street and he lead me over to the Merchant Cafe where she works now. I got a quick hug and a brief visit before I had to run off to catch my bus to Everett. I was quite glad I got to see her though before running off.

For the next two hours I sat in the Everett bus station. I did get a little entertainment when I noticed two very cute European girls, Sonja and Maria, who turned out to be Finnish, trying to figure something out with Greyhound. Being quite a Greyhound aficionado I struck up a conversation with them for a bit and gave them some travel tips while they too jaunt about the US. After a little while, though, the girls were long gone and Wendie and Daniel showed up to get me.

Wendie had complained to me, via text, that I should be warned because she was tired and cranky. When she showed up, however, they were both full of life. I'm not sure what she was talking about. We drove off and took the ferry to Whidbey Island, then got in line for the ferry to Port Townsend out of there while holing up for the wait in a burger joint nearby. Of course we visited the whole way in, snapped pictures, the whole deal, but by the time we got to town we had decided on having a relaxing night to a movie and conking out after that. That's pretty much exactly what we did.

Wrapping up the night, however, Wendie had asked me if I'd be fine with camping out on their lawn before I'd arrived due to the lack of space in the apartment. I was totally fine with that, but when it came down to me heading outside to go to sleep the reality of it all suddenly hit her. She had envisioned me nesting in a tent with my back pack explosion in there giving me a sense of my own space. Instead, I had my bivy and had neatly tucked my pack away in the garage. Seeing me settle down out in a bivy with no back pack explosion set her feeling like a poor host thinking she'd cast out her brother after his sojourn to see her. I was totally happy down there, but suddenly she was asking if I wanted to stay on the couch, etc., but with Daniel's sleeping pad, and a nice big pillow complimenting my usual entourage of sleeping gear I was quite content out under the stars. Eventually it all worked itself out and the house fell quiet with slumber soon enough.

9/8- Ride the Burn

I woke up somewhere around noon. When Todd and I had split ways the day before he had given me some MRE heaters that Michelle Montana (hi, Michelle), one of the ladies reading along here that he'd gotten in touch with, had given him. With him not being much of a cooker he gave them to me figuring I'd probably get some use out of them, and I was curious so I took them. Trying them out that morning I realized that MRE heaters are best used with MREs of which I had none.

Being the crafty little dipshit I am, I was curious to see if I could finagle something with some of the last bit of rice I was looking to eat up. I've been getting tired of all the slow cooking, clean up, and all the water consumed in eating rice so I've been trying to use it all up quickly. With these little things I figured I'd try using my ziplock bags as an MRE pack and hope the heating process would work in a way that burned slow enough to absorb all the water into the rice, but with out all the hassle of moving things around and clean up time. It failed miserably.

I ended up with some weird, soggy concoction that was leaking everywhere with crunchy, potentially chemically poisoned rice inside. It was worth the effort. Instead I scrapped the whole thing and ate some oatmeal. I like a good experiment even if they're failed ones.

By one or so I was back on the road to see Mt. Hood's snow capped visage hovering far off at the end of it. To my right was the stark jagged peaks of some lower mountains, and to my left the backdrop was lined with more snow caps like Mt. Jefferson and the Sisters. It was back to being a hot day, and again I neglected my sunblock, so as I hoofed my way toward Madras, where US-26 intersected leading off to Portland, I continued cooking my face for the afternoon.

It was another day where I'd doubt myself then be struck with great luck on rides. It seems whenever I hit that point of conceding to walking the distance then a ride comes by, but I first need to go through the facade of conceding for the ride before genuinely conceding. Its a weird process, and perhaps all in my head, but it seems consistent which is why it takes so many miles to get around the fake concession. Its not so much genuinely needing to lose hope of a ride daily, as much as it is genuinely needing to be happy with just walking daily.

Tom was my first ride. He picked up me up about 4 or 5 miles from where I started on a ramp sloping down off a bridge. I was getting a rock out of my shoe and randomly looked up and threw my thumb out only to be completely surprised when he pulled over. As he drove me 20 miles up to Madras we talked about the divorce he's going through and his concern for the kids he has and how they'll handle it. He was kind enough to go off the main street once in Madras and drop me right in front of the library once he heard I was interested in heading there.

After some internet time there I set off back out of town again with a decision ahead of me. Now this one was a weird one. As I mentioned in the last post I had no idea why I was drawn to Bend, but I was and I picked up a great ride with Luego heading that way that took me 250 miles, 309 for the day. At the north end of Madras was another split, US-26 that went around Mt. Hood to Portland or OR-97 that went to The Dalles. I was having another weird draw to The Dalles and had no clue why.

When I hit that intersection looking at the hill taking US-26 off and the curve bending OR-97 out of sight I was completely perplexed as to what to do. Here I was reminded of Todd and his concern for me about using these studies in intuition for manipulation of the universe rather than genuine self exploration. I was literally standing there, stuck in my mind, as to which way to go despite the practical road being somewhat obvious. OR-97 took me back east a little ways while it went north where US-26 was laid out in a direct north western way that pleases me so much in a geeky way when I come across it.

I thought of Todd with his concerns of me trying to manipulate fate or "guidance" because I found myself wrestling with taking OR-97 to be "on the right road" for who ever is supposed to pick me up there to give me the big ride all the way to Seattle. Or taking US-26 for the direct, less faith based, approach and finding myself walking the whole way missing that ride on OR-97. It was a really weird debate.

Turning right, I started down OR-97 toward The Dalles. The reasoning in my head started kicking in that it did make sense because of all the warnings not to hitch in Washington. According to Tom they'll simply throw you in jail, which I didn't quite believe, but figured from The Dalles I had I-84 to walk a bit to catch a ride up into Seattle. Where as in Portland I'd be stuck right there on the edge and find myself walking into Washington state and have even more of a rough time. Basically I was conjuring up horror stories for myself about not tuning in to "the right road" creating fear which is exactly opposite of the whole idea of having any kind of faith or intuitional guidance.

Anyway, I got around the bend heading north and realized I needed water and was passing a Safeway. I went in and filled up which gave me a bit more time to relax on this completely self made situation. When I walked out of the store US-26 was right in front of me and OR-97 was back behind the store from whence I came. I decided, fuck it, if I'm afraid of being out of tune with listening to my inner voice then I've lost contact with it anyway. The intelligent and obvious thing to do is take US-26 for the direct route, so that's what I did.

As had happened the day before, I walked many miles over many hours, this time in constant second guessing about my decision, before I connected with something again. It was about the same time as well, I'd walked probably 7 miles and had finally wrestled myself out of my second guessing for the most part, when I noticed a car half a mile up pull into a dirt lot.

The dirt lot was the only pull off, other than the shoulder of the busy road, and I got the notion in my head that perhaps that might be for me. I had been dragging me feet, but I quickened my step now to put myself in a position of seeing what was going on there before he pulled out and left the lot. Keeping my thumb out as I walked, I kept my eyes on him watching as the guy was moving things about in his car and appeared to be clearing out room. It was a big SUV so I wasn't sure if it was a family taking a pee break or something, or if it was just a guy on trip on his own. As I got up to him, and was just about to pass him, I was still watching him and finally he looked up and waved me over.

Lawrence was coming home from Burning Man and the playa dust all over the inside and outside of his car was testament to it. It had been his first time going and he seemed quite consumed with the impact that it had left on him, enough to have me a little concerned when I first got in. He was from Seattle and intended to be there that night by midnight. It was my second several hundred mile ride in two consecutive days, something was looking out for me and I'm guessing it didn't want me going down OR-97 in the end.

Lawrence turned out to be a really great ride. Like I said, he was coming off Burning Man with this huge experience still unprocessed going on in his head and he was struggling hard to get it out in words. He picked me up because he needed someone to talk to, because the impression was so deep. We clicked perfectly though.

As we drove I told him exactly what I was up to, the intuitional wander, some of the sit down and shut up philosophies, and just relayed a bunch of my thoughts on spirituality and the world at large. Despite all of that sounding like a mouthful, he was the one who actually did most of the talking, working out how to articulate the major adjustments he was thinking making in his life, and what had just happened to him in this past week down in Nevada. It seemed to take maybe fifteen or twenty minutes before we were divulging very personal aspects of ourselves, concerns for ourselves, and such things as we cruised toward Mt. Hood.

By the time we were driving under the looming peaks he was saying he wanted to stop to eat letting me know when we got there that my coin was no good there. It was a really incredible experience riding up with him. We scoped out a little mountain town diner for some burgers and coffee. He was explicit with me that he was in no hurry to get anywhere, as I was reaffirming to him that neither was I, but he was also hitting around about me staying at his place when we got to the city around midnight. I hadn't been concerned for where to stay since I knew once Wendie and Daniel knew I was up in town that I'd be able to stay at their place, but there was definitely something here with Lawrence to explore and I was excited it wasn't going to end with the ride.

We took off again, riding up I-5 with a few coffee stops along the way to grease the wheels and keep us awake. When we arrived at his place around midnight, we were literally down the street from Wendie and Daniel's Beacon Hill home that they rent out. That was a back of the mind ease, though everything was going really well with Lawrence, that if something should come up I only had to walk up a hill to be inside again. By then I'd called Wend to let her know I was in town already and she'd offered up the house, so it was all official.

Instead, Lawrence and I chatted a bit and he let me use the computer when he went to bed so I could let people know where I was. In the morning we planned to have coffee together and figure out something from there. By 2am I had a bed and slept in it like a rock.

9/7- The Tortoise & The Hare

In the morning hours of 10, or 11, or noon we rose. I got up a little earlier and made myself some oatmeal for the day. Todd rose a little later and enjoyed some canned beans. I was smiling over all of this because I was really enjoying how our styles had really defined themselves clearly by now. No more of this hodge podge weird mess of trying to mix our ways leaving one of us in a strange control balancing act.

While walking last night, from the moment we were dropped off at the Flying J until we settled into our nest of weeds there had been brief hints back and forth at questioning what it was we were doing and whether we wanted to do it together or not. The Tortoise and The Hare idea had come up quite a few times, but as I said in the last post, neither of us wanted to split ways so soon. Today was a new day.

I liked that we were able to talk so casually about whether Todd wanted to stay at the ramps while I walked on or if he even wanted to go up north since his calling seemed to be saying south. We were individual partners, rather than bound comrades this time, and I smiled over that development too. Over breakfast we finally decided to attack the question.

It was clear if we kept walking west I-84 would get farther and farther away. After the little jaunt of that night Todd was quickly defining in himself that he had no shame in loving his method either. Sure he wanted to break in his boots and walk a bit, but not 300 some odd miles. Despite our quick success with the pick up, we got no other rides last night, and wondered if that was a fluke and that we would be walking such stretches through this Oregon desert ahead. I was also suddenly feeling a strange draw toward Bend, OR which dips away from the path to Portland, and suddenly both of us were wondering what the hell it was that was driving us to Portland in the first place. It had been huge to us back in Michigan and Iowa, but now it was a wonder.

I clearly was excited to see my sister in Port Townsend, WA. Todd was intrigued by the notions of crossing a serious desert. The Portland excitement seemed to only be there because of us being together there, but for no other reason. Suddenly we saw a huge struggle to get there for maybe a night roaming the streets and splitting ways then. It seemed a bit out of sorts.

We talked for about an hour as we decided that he liked his ramps and I liked my back roads. There was no judgment here now, finally, from either of us, where there had been a few months ago. We decided then, that if we're going to split up again it why not have a coffee back at the gas station first to do a proper goodbye. It was good, because this time it was devoid of the under spoken animosity that hung over our friendly departure in Omaha.

A mile back east for me was also no big deal. As we both pointed out, my walking was strictly for scenery. Walking is my meditation, it doesn't matter how far I get if I'm hitching, because the theory is that someone will get me eventually and bring me much farther than I would have walked. So we returned to the Stinker, the gas station of the previous night. Immediately the manager-apparent got to talking with us and offered us squash... because that's what you do in Caldwell I suppose. We accepted joking we could trade it for rides, but later I left it with the cashier there.

We hung out probably 45 minutes while we sipped coffee and settled into our decision, then after a picture in front of the place and headed off. Maybe about five minutes walk before I got to where we'd crawled out of our bivys that morning a very attractive young lady spun around and offered me a ride.

Initially I thought Zaine was from Canada after she offhandedly made a point to say that in her country people don't think twice about picking up hitchers, that's just what you do. She had a very slight accent as well, but what threw me was that it was definitely not from up there. As it turned out she would set the Central American theme for the day. When she was 14 she had moved up to America from Belize and eventually got married and nestled in. She was full of energy and I loved just chatting with her. When we got to the little town she was going to drop me in at the library I quietly thanked the strange holiday of Labor Day because the library was closed. Seeing that, and having a good time talking, she decided to take me further down the road, out of her way, and drop me over the border in Nyssa, OR.

It was a great way to kick off my solo return. Here it was a half an hour after parting with Todd and I'd made it to Oregon already. When we split off we'd said we'd text each other if either of us went to Portland to see if the other was there or on their way, but neither of us knew if we were going to bother with it or not. I figured if we were on the Tortoise and the Hare race, then I just got a good head start.

I said goodbye to Zaine as she returned to Idaho and I made off toward Vale, OR where 20 and 26 split ways. Vale had personal meaning for me as well, as this would be the first time on this trip that I'd be re-walking any part of my old walk in '04. Five years previous I had come through Ontario, OR and walked the stretch to Vale, past Tattle Tale Ln., and turned up US-26 toward Baker City and La Grande. This time I'd be taking the southern route on US-20 toward Burns and Bend.

I walked probably three or four miles past some nice country, and as usual, as my brain started readjusting itself to thinking I'd be walking the whole 20 miles to Vale a car pulled up behind me. Being Labor Day, once again, this couple were out for a joy ride heading to Ontario, OR just to be out for a drive. I hopped in and asked if they could let me out just before Ontario at the split off to Vale. Instead of obliging me that request they just took the turn and joy rode to Vale instead.

These two simply hit the technical mark of my Central American theme for the day since the guy was of Mexican heritage I believe, but we mostly spoke of religion. It was all talk of the weather until half way to Vale when we hit on spirituality and their Christianity. I explained to them my beliefs of reincarnation and a higher power and all of that, and I was happy to find it opened a relatively nice dialogue on the subject rather than an attempt to be saved. The last time I was on this road I was taken in by Mormons to learn the story of Joseph Smith over juice, but these guys were quite nice about it. In fact he specifically said he would never try to dissuade someone away from a faith they already have. He did leave it lingering there though seeming to silently say that he wouldn't be satisfied leaving someone he met with no faith at all though, but that's a guess.

I had to laugh when I got out in Vale because I stepped out across the street from another hitcher. The unnamed couple drove off and I crossed over to hear what this guy was yelling to me. It turned out he was just griping that he'd been stuck their all day with his sign and a thumb out. He pointed down the road to another hitcher about 50 yards down also trying to get out of Dodge.

It was a short conversation as I strapped on my pack to hoof it out, but he was sure to tell me that once I passed Burns, which was over a 100 miles down the road, there was absolutely nothing for another 100 miles passed that to Bend. Essentially telling me if I walked I was screwed.

The other hitcher, Abel, was much more optimistic. He'd only been dropped there 20 minutes ago and seemed in good spirits. I wished him luck as well, and gave him a card to the site, then sauntered on by. I got about 30 feet from him when I noticed a car had stopped for him and he was negotiating a ride. He turned it down so I threw my thumb out as the car pulled away, reeling him into me.

Preston was only going 10 miles down the road, but if you're walking then 10 miles ridden is 10 miles not walked. I also theorize that the more you're "in the middle of nowhere" the more likely people are to stop. He was a high schooler starting his senior year in the next town up, and in the ten minutes we rode together we didn't really say much more than the superficial things people say to each other when they first meet. Nevertheless, it was a good boost for a long road and I hoped more would come just as quickly.

They did not. It was a long stretch of open rolling highway through that farm land and those expanses tend to seem to take eons to cross on foot. My mentality was back to that of the Walk of Olde. Trodding along, staring at the horizon, letting my brain wander as it cooked in the sun. In good tradition, I'd neglected to put on my sunblock again.

Three hours and 7 miles later I had just risen from a rest on the side of the road by some sunflowers. I had just climbed a long hill and the sun was about an hour from setting. I was sort of giving up on the idea of getting picked up again, and was starting to rearrange my thinking into the long haul mentality of walking 20 to 30 miles a day. Once again, as this thinking solidified a little pick up pulled up in front of me.

Luego was heading to Bend... Holy Shit. Bend was still 233 miles away from me at the time, so I strapped my bag down in the back and jumped in the cab for a nice long ride through the night past that desert I'd been hearing so much about. He pulled out on to the road, sputtered a bit, then pulled right back over to the side as the engine seized up and conked out.

Luego and I got along pretty well. He was an immigrant up from southern Mexico, some 20 years ago, who came up in his late teen years just to check out California for a year and see what it was like. He ended up getting a girlfriend, who turned into a wife, and had two daughters there. Once work started drying up there, he followed his brother north to Bend, OR where more work could be had. By the time I met him he had moved over to Payette, ID with his wife and five kids and was on his weekly commute back to Bend where the work was good for the moment. Sadly, the little truck he'd gotten two years earlier was not holding up quite as well as he was.

A great sign for the friendliness of Oregon is that not more than two minutes after pulling to the side of the road broken down a guy and his grandkid pulled over to help. He spent a good 20 or 30 minutes working over the engine, troubleshooting the carburetor, fuel injector, spark plugs, and so on until he got it running again. All the while we were just shooting the shit learning about engines. Soon enough, Luego and I were back on our way and trucking like nothing ever happened.

It took about an hour or so before we got around to Luego's story of coming out of Mexico and his nestling in up here. He and his wife both had gotten citizenship, and his kids were born here so they were obviously natural citizens. These were facts he was quite proud of. With my interest in heading south next year, I kept asking about his hometown, what life was like, what the temperatures are like year round, but for the most part we talked a lot about his achievements in becoming an American. It had me reminiscing a lot on my Dad's side coming over just 100 years earlier.

As the trip wore on we got a little into language. He loved talking to practice his English, which was quite good, and I would occasionally get him to oblige me in practicing my Spanish. A lot of that, though, can become mentally exhausting, so the last hour or two of the trip we just stared off over the road.

In that last hour, though, we did liven up some as the truck started acting up again. About 80 miles away from Bend the truck sputtered once more and had us jolting to the side of the road. Once again, a testament to the people of Oregon, not only are they incredibly friendly and helpful, but they all seem to know everything about engine trouble. The truck crapped out three times in that last hour, and every time someone was there for us within five minutes, fixed us up, and off we went again.

I still hadn't figured out what my draw to Bend was, and realized, maybe there wasn't one, maybe it was just a draw to go this way for whatever reason. Either way, with the truck bucking us like that, particularly toward the end, and Luego having to be up at 6am the next day, I offered to skip Bend. It was a win/win for me because, sure I skip Bend now, but again, I had no idea why I was going there anyway, but Luego was actually going to Redmond and if he didn't need to stop needlessly, risking the truck dying again, than that was fine by him.

Redmond is 20 miles north of Bend, and on my way to Portland and Seattle anyway, so for me I got extra mileage out of it. He was able to take a short cut there, so by 11pm we pulled into a pay phone for him to make a call to his brother, and I thanked him and went on my way. All I had to do now was clear the city and find a place to bed down, but now the temperature had dropped to 44 degrees.

I walked a good three miles out of town to find a nice spot to bed down in. I had dug out my wool hat and hoody but was still a bit cold and tired. Finding a nice little hill with soft dirt in it I nestled into a nook and passed out for the night.

Click here for Todd's perspective.

9/6- Boise Departure

Sunday was an odd day. I sat up into the wee hours of the morning editing photos and uploading them in preparation of leaving that day. Todd passed out on the floor with the cat while I did so. When I woke up the next day I was all geared up and ready to roll back out on to the road, but I had forgotten about Todd's time management skills.

Todd and I communicate relatively well. We travel well together because of that, but we obviously have very distinct methods in which we arrange ourselves. Luckily, we had the Michigan experience (as its now dubbed) to draw on as to how to employ these good communication skills we have between us. As you can see, by where I'm leading this, I did start to have my doubts that day about us traveling back together again.

I knew there were odds and ends to take care of, and I was completely happy reclining in the lap of Lynn and Dave's hospitality while I waited. Mike, on of Dave's kids visiting for the weekend, invited me to a few rounds of Halo and Ben joined in with us. As we rounded noon, word got out of a ham roast lunch in an hour which both Todd and I jumped at staying through for. I was a bit surprised to learn it was only 1pm-ish when we ate since we both rose early that morning. So all in all I was having a grand time as Todd wrapped up posts, reorganized his pack, and assessed what might possibly be missing. I don't want this to sound as if I was waiting by the door tapping my fingers impatiently.

The tinge of possible regret for our upcoming tandem Portland hitch trip seeped in after that amazing lunch, 3pm was wearing on, and Todd popped his head in on Mike and my Halo bonanza to see if I wanted to join him on a jaunt to Staples. That got me nervous. We had talked of trying to be out the door by 3pm at the latest and I was starting to see our departure drift into Monday.

Here I'd like to stop and be clear on something as far as this go, go nature of mine goes. Leaving Monday was not the problem, nor was lingering in Michigan for five weeks back in June. The problem taps back into ancient childhood issues of my Dad and his inability to get anything accomplished on time. That sense of lingering in a place, bored out of your skull, for no other reason than because he could not physically pick me up on time, leave a place on time, be anywhere on time. This was something, in regards to my traveling with Todd, that I've only come to realize now. To dive into ego and all that crap, I believe its tapping that vein from childhood of feeling a complete lack of control as to where I can go and when.

Returning back to the game room with Todd saying he's heading off to Staples to check on something, I suddenly see a four hour trip, running all over the city for a trinket or two, and watching the sunset saying, "oh well, we'll try again tomorrow". This then would conjure the aforementioned unresolved Daddy issue along with the drama of Michigan's exodus, and I would instantly find myself back in that same state of frustration and aggravation all by the workings of my own head. How's that for street side psychology?

In the end, none of this happened. I did become frustrated and no longer wanted to chill out to Halo, but was suddenly infused with an incessant need to get going now. I managed to catch myself enough to sit down with Pocketmail and write up another post for Saturday, and by the time I was done Todd was back, excited to go, and I was just the temporary dickhead who had worked myself up over anticipation of something happening rather than something actually happening. Shall we all say it together now. Sit down and shut up.

When Todd and Lynn returned he packed up his bag and Lynn suggested dropping us off down the road in Star where she was dropping Ben off. All the timing worked out perfectly. We scampered out to the front yard, took some giant family photos, and piled in the car for the ten mile ride.

Among them all I think Dave's look on his face was the most precious to me as we got out at a crossroads next to a cornfield. It was as if he hadn't really believed until now, when he was leaving us in the middle of nowhere to wander further in to this land called nowhere, that we actually were going to do this. He looked concerned, somewhat darkly amused, but most of all in throes of thawing out of a disbelief he knew might be coming but hadn't prepared for. I wish I'd gotten a picture. As we hugged and shook hands saying our "thank you"s and "good to meet you"s they both offered for me to swing by anytime I was in Boise whether with Todd or otherwise which I liked hearing.

They drove off and we walked west. We were on US-20/26 and aiming for Portland and there was a sign for it right there for us to take an inaugural picture together. About five minutes after our futzing about with pictures we started walking down the road together wondering what the comparison would be like in getting rides in tandem out here in the Northwest compared to the East Coast and Iowa. In mid-wonder a red pick up pulled up, told us to jump in the back, and hauled us off to I-84. That was quick.

Dumping us at a Flying J by the Interstate was the perfect spot for us to figure out what the hell we were doing. Todd had just gotten new boots, courtesy of Lynn and Dave, and we were expecting 10 miles of walking to test them out and hash out our plan as far as how we planned to get to Portland. Suddenly we were here in 10 minutes with no idea. The options were this:

- We could both adopt Todd's method and sit at the on ramps looking for a tandem ride on the interstate.
- We could both walk the back roads and hope for a tandem pick up off the side of the road.
- We could split up and finally have our Tortoise and the Hare Race that we conceived in Maryland where I hitch back roads walking (tortoise) and he sits at the Flying J waiting for the big haul down the interstate (hare) and see who gets to Portland first.

None of these options jumped out at us. I have become quite comfortable in my notion that I'm not a big fan of sitting and waiting for someone to get me. If no one is picking me up I at least like to see the scenery change and feel like one day I'll get somewhere if nothing else than by foot. Todd was excited to try out his boots for walking, but Oregon is a big state, and once you veer away from that highway then you've committed to quite a bit of walking if that method doesn't work out. The Race sounded like the best option, but we'd just gotten back together, we didn't want to split up so soon. So we had a coffee, thought it over, and set off down the back roads into Caldwell, ID.

It was a darn fine time. The sun was setting by now and small towns in sunsets are quite gorgeous. Even boarded up windows on a street of concrete buildings looks romanticized and adventurous when basking in the glow of a setting sun. It was finally time for us to be the intrepid adventurers we had wanted to be back east.

Entering Caldwell we learned a new method of evading the hassle of being IDed by cops. As we rounded a main street corner a cop rolled up on us and Todd let out his usual "here we go". We had been trying to figure out where US-20 went since we lost it crossing the interstate, so as he got out of the car I approached him quickly with a confused lost friendly face asking him if he knew where it connected. He didn't know, but he did know we weren't in anyway afraid to ask or evasive of him and his big blue uniform. We batted questions back and forth, ours to find 20 and his were more oriented around what we were up to. It was a friendly chat, he could see we were good folks, and because we had stopped him he didn't need to ID us to avoid looking like a fool for stopping us and doing nothing. Everybody happy.

We went through town and on the other end found US-20 and a short cut to it walking some rail lines. To get to them we had to get under a bridge, down a steep concrete incline, which was kinda fun. Then we walked under a full-ish moon for about a mile, crossing a long trestle over a moonlit river. A train also came once we'd found a dirt road to follow out, and we watched it pass with hungry eyes to hop it, but it was moving way too fast for us.

By 11pm we finally made it US-20/26 and began our trek west again. A mile on it lead us to a closed gas station we were hoping for coffee at, but instead we just took an extended break. We had a good conversation here about one of Todd's recent posts he wrote about being up in the Dakotas and Montana. It addressed the McCandless archetype, which he has become increasingly frustrated with, of the rich suburban pretender. When he wrote it he had been concerned about my reaction, because I too come from a wealthy suburb and a similarly decent home.

I bring it up now because I think its a very interesting topic. I have no major struggles in life, I know this, and oddly its taken me a long time to be comfortable with that. In fact, probably only in this year have I really become comfortable with the fact that I've had a very cushy and easy life. I know that many of these adventures in my past, these challenges I set for myself, are set to give me something to struggle over. I've always worked hard, but work has also always come to me easily. I've never gone more than two weeks looking for work and I acknowledge that that's a huge blessing I have. I also have the comfort behind me of knowing that if I completely fuck up in some way I have not only a good family that can afford to back me up and help me out, but I have several great friends who would likewise do the same. In that way I'm allowed to challenge things outside of my comfort zone because there is that irrevocable safety net that I've tried denying to myself but is undeniably there.

The interest in this for me is then, what is the best way to use this for everyone? My answer is obviously what I'm doing, but that was my hesitation in agreeing with what Todd had written. Its true, lots of rich suburban kids jaunt off to Prague, or South America, or Africa to challenge themselves under the banner of charity, but the question is always if its truly simply charity they want to give then why not help the nearby homeless in their towns, volunteer at a hospice, take care of the elderly, etc. I think almost all would admit that it is for the adventure and challenge as well, or the exposure to different cultures, but to do it while hoping they're helping too. I don't see anything wrong with any of this.

What I see as what seems to be the problem is the sophomoric attitude that tends to come with these experiences. Living in a hut serving Peace Corps for three years now suddenly makes an expert on what poverty is like, even though the true tyranny of impoverishment, in my observation, not my experience, is the hopelessness of being unable to live any other way. Again, I've always had good support, so this is coming just from what I've seen, not experienced, but I've seen this sort of impoverishment of spirit in more than simply the financially poor. I see these trappings in probably 80% of the people I come across, and it seems to be what Todd's battle is truly being waged against.

I've seen this sense of life entrapment in everyone from the extremely wealthy trapped by obligations and responsibilities to whole companies and networks, down through the upper middle class bound by mortgage payments and TV addiction, middle class mired by college loans, mortgages, and car payments, lower middle class clinging to job security and insurance hassles, and the completely broke both trapped by providing for their kids, keeping a roof over their heads, and doing their damnedest to put food on the table. Everyone seems roped in some way or another, and the ropes seem to be tied by not having the free time to even attempt to rethink a new strategy on how to take it all on. And these are all just financial in regards to work, housing, and families. There appears to be a much more vast web here under that financial skin, but that skin is thick enough to prevent so many from even considering getting through that to tackle the obstacles beyond it.

Maybe I'm just babbling on here, and as I said, this is what I'm seeing all from the side of the road, not in the hot seat. What I've noticed lately, though, is that more people these days seem to be working on reworking this dilemmas. I'm meeting a lot of people now, through rides and visits, who are at that point of being so fed up that despite that lack of time to reflect they're taking it anyway and rethinking all the bullshit bogging them down from being happy.

Maybe I should have put a rant alert on that one. I should probably reread it.

I got a little lost in my train of thought, but to get back to the crux of that conversation at the gas station my main wonder is what would be acceptable for a wealthy suburban kid to do that wouldn't be a charity vacation. I agree with my good friend Gela Bibs, its okay to fake it til you make it. To condemn those kids from going out and helping just perpetuates the class war, in my mind, and the class war is really what seems to be the ancient roots of all other social wars like racism, sexism, homophobia, and so on when you really bring them back.

When McCandless burned all his money that was done out of anger. Why didn't he give it to someone if he didn't want it? If you want to strike out of your little suburban lifestyle and give something to the world my advice would be start with the adventuring first. If you're looking to help some other culture, be it another culture in your home country or a foreign one, you probably don't know anything about the real troubles in it and it'd be best to just get there and listen first if that's what you want to do. I recommend reading about Jonathan Strange helping Wellington in Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norell.

Anyway, I've gone on long enough about that. We wandered on about a mile after that gas station and eventually found ourselves a nice little nest of tall weeds to crash in for the night. There was some barbed wire to cross, which tore up Todd's pants something terrible, but other than that we were snug in there safe and sound.

Click here for Todd's story.

9/5- Lex and Val, Dave and Lynn

Waking in my pimped out hotel room feeling like I'm in the lap of luxury was quite nice. The plan for the day was also shaping up quite nicely. Another example of this serendipitous synchronicity was going to take place that day.

On our night out before I had told him I was bummed that I missed his dad and Val. It turns out that had I tried to make it to Bellevue to see them I quite likely would have missed them. They were coming down to Boise for the weekend and would be showing up that afternoon.

Glen had a plan for how I'd meet them so I stayed up in my room watching TV, making calls as it was a Saturday which is a phone day. Around 2pm they got into town and had no idea I was there. Glen was hosting them in the hotel as well and as a surprise brought them to my room to "show them what the rooms were like". When I opened the door they didn't place me at all, it was kind of hilarious.

I had wondered if they'd recognize me at all. Sure I'd befriended them recently on Facebook and they remembered me there, but as Val later put it, it was so out of context for me to be there and five years later it was quite understandable. Lex just stood there wondering why Glen and this guy in the room were beaming like they'd just pulled something off. Val was the one to get it first. Soon we were all sitting around catching up on what we've been up to for the past five years.

I didn't spend long with them as we all went to Glen's house to figure out where to go next. I just wanted to reconnect and say hi, but they'd just had a long trip over and were only expecting a quiet visit with their son. Glen was knacked from the night before, so while he took a nap Lex and Val drove me back to Lynn and Dave's so we could visit on the way.

I was also excited for Todd to meet them. I'd told him quite a bit about those two so when we pulled in we all had a bit of a chat out on the drive way. Lynn was home as well which was my first time meeting her, so it was a weird meeting circle out there for a few minutes.

Parting ways again we made arrangements to possibly meet up later in the year. Todd, Lynn, and I then retired to the back porch so I too could meet the last of Todd's lost family. Dave's kids were in town for the weekend and he was out with her kids, his kids, and the lot of them at the movies while we lounged and got to know one another.

After an hour or so he returned and the house erupted into the chaos that comes with 10 to 16 year olds. Dinner was served a bit later and the kids vanished to the TV and video game rooms as we four reclined.

It was a great evening. The two of them have been all over the world so we all swapped travel stories and general stories. Once they retired Todd and I stayed up a while longer making plans for the morrow.

Click here for Todd's story.

9/4- Living the Big Shot Life

We woke and lounged in the house with a strange air of uncertainty among us. Here I was, the hitching friend of long lost wandering Uncle Todd, who showed up unannounced in the dead of night and our uncertainty was over the reception of my stay. Since I'd taken too long deciding whether to stop in Boise or not I didn't call Todd to inform him of my arrival until about 10pm, an hour after everyone had fallen away to sleep. Regardless, we spent the morning and early afternoon in half guarded relaxation on their back porch.

It was all for naught. Dave, Todd's brother-in-law, came home at some point to us reclining and chatting and showed no signs of feeling intruded upon whatsoever. On the contrary, he invited me to eat, have a drink, to stay the weekend, yada, yada, yada. It was a genuine and hearty welcome into his home. I declined the stay, however, because I'd gotten in touch with one of the folks I'd very much wanted to see while here.

Glen is Lex's son and lived right around the corner from Dave and Lynn's, where I was. I had found Lex by finding Glen on Facebook and he had offered to put me up in a hotel he runs here in town. When I let him know I'd arrived he made good on his offer. Dave's kids were also coming up for the weekend so I figured the house would be packed anyway, so it all seemed to work out well. Perfectly one might say.

Dave gave me a lift to the hotel, which was right at the off ramp Victor dropped me at the night before, and Glen was there, as promised, hard at work. He and I sat down and caught up for a bit, then I was debriefed about being a travel writer who was going to be writing a nice review of the place. All true if you think about it.

I checked in and dropped down on the king sized bed in my luxurious suite. It would be about an hour before Glen would be off so I zoned out to TV, shoes off and properly sprawled. When we met up again an hour later I learned of the night to come. Apparently he not only had a room for me in a swank hotel, but a "date" and spare ticket to a baseball game in town.

A quick run to his house and then we were out for drinks waiting for the girls to show up. Nina was a girl who had worked for him and was in some sort of process of trying to hook him up with her friend Peggy. When they called and were told a bit about me before their arrival Glen of course told them he'd met me on my walk cross country. This inspired the now far too familiar "is he like Forest Gump or something?"

When they arrived we had fish and chips and our mugs of beer on the table. As Glen introduced me I slowly, with an odd sense of peculiarity about me spent great time dipping my fry in the tartar sauce. In a slow speeched Southern drawl I looked up and introduced myself. "Hello, my name is Chris." Everyone wants me to be Forest, Goddamn it I'll give it to them. Glen had been prepared for this, but the look on Nina's face, a French Canadian city girl from Quebec looking for wild times at every corner, told me she was suddenly dreading this evening to come. I played my Gump bit off for a good five minutes, slowly dipping each french fry between every sentence until Glen lost it and I was internally debating how long I should play at this. The little act was a good way to kick of a really fun night.

After drinks at Iggy's we made our way to the game. Nina knew the guy seling cups of beer there so we were drinking at a buck a cup. Despite the home team getting slaughtered, Nina and I had a grand time yelling random words of encouragement much to Glen's chagrin. I'm not quite sure he realized what he was putting together that night.

He soon found out when she and I enthusiastically demanded an evening of kareoke after the game. There was a round of fireworks that we watched from the parking lot, then made our way to Sam's to continue our revelry.

Immediately upon entrance I ferreted out a song book and put in 4 requests. Glen backed me up with another. Peggy B-lined it to the shuffle board table and Nina, oddly, disappeared. Even now I have no idea what happened to her, but a nice thing about Boise is that the women are smokin' hot outdoorsy types and they were brimming in that place. Kareoke is also where I shine. Sadly, it was DJ's friends night.

I was able to crank out a rendition of Up Where We Belong to a hollering pixie blonde in the front row. Despite being the only one that I saw to get the bar shouting and a full room round of applause I was not returned to the mic that night. Glen was never called up and he had to work the next day. Alas, I returned to the hotel room alone.

Click here for Todd's story.

9/3- The Boise Express

Montpelier, what a hoot. So I left the library wary that it was a bit late in the day and deep into wandering back roads near Mormon country. Wary because I've always heard it was a dead zone for hitching and figured I'd been lucky so far.

On my way out of town the landscape was stunning. I felt like I'd wandered into a Jolly Green Giant commercial the way these booming lush valleys carpeted the vast floor between two ranges on either side. Wandering along with the occasional thumb out one of the cars I flagged with it was black and white with little blue and red lights on top. When it turned around and pulled up behind me, however, I was pretty certain it wasn't for a ride.

The cop was nice enough as I chatted him up. I asked if hitching was illegal in Idaho and he said no, but policy was to check the IDs of all hitchers coming through. Sounds pretty illegal and descriminitory but I just smiled and complied to keep things friendly. I've dealt with the mob before and thats just what you do.

Five minutes later I had been approved as an American citizen and he drove off as I sent him a friendly wave goodbye. All of my niceties paid out brilliantly. Turning north again to continue my jaunt I found myself 50 feet from a truck stop. Pulling out of the place was a big ole semi and the driver inside was waving me over.

Victor had watched the whole cop thing go down, and he gave his acknowledgement as I climbed in that he knew that organization to be bullshit as well. He did concede, however, that incident had worked to my benefit. Though he'd debated giving me a ride when he passed me on the way into the truck stop if I made it there by the time he was pulling out, it clinched the deal when he saw me pass the ID check and handle the officer in a friendly manner rather than a raving road dog bearing my teeth. I chalk the whole thing up to another example of synchronicity the way it all worked out. A script couldn't have put me in that truck as fluidly as that situation.

We hit it off right away. Victor is known to be quite a chatterbox and he didn't disappoint. Some rides seem to take you to hear stories, others just to be helpful, then theres Victor's sort that want to tell stories. These sort I love, and we kicked the first 100 miles off talking about our restaurant backgrounds and the kinds of girls that make us go nuts. Victor is a self confessed horndog.

Originally when I got in I was a little uncertain as to where to tell him I wanted to go. I was aiming to reconnect with my friends Lex and Val, whom I'd met walking US-20 5 years ago and were among my favorite people to have encountered on that trip. I had recently rediscovered them on Facebook and they'd invited me to swing by if I was coming through on my travels. The problem was getting to them.

My options were to either get out in Pocatello and try to hitch through the INEL in this Mormon country. Having walked that stretch before it had taken me two and a half days of open desert under the very present watchful eye of that military installation. The other option was going to Twin Falls to go due north. This town is the first city just north of Utah and in an area that stranded Todd for days last year. I opted for Pocatello, but when we hit it an hour and a half later we were having such a good time laughing and chatting that I took Victor up on his offer to take me through to Boise. This also granted me a few more hours to debate accepting his full offer of bringing me to Portland the next day.

Now here's the strange part on Victor. As we rode along shooting the shit we got a little into my philosophies and beliefs on how the world works spiritualy. The notions of synchronicity, all the Sit Down and Shut Up stuff, and of course my ever growing faith in my guiding intuition. Victor not only whole heartedly agreed with these notions he was a Christian who followed the theological ideas, rather than the church's interpretation, claiming some important roles and predictions for the world himself. He made some wild proclaimations that I warily found fascinating, then lowered his sunglasses to show me his yellow eyes.

It was like something out of those mythologically laden modern road tales; Tale of the Trucker with Yellow Eyes. Telling people about this afterward enlightened me to the assumption that he may have liver problems of which a symptom is having yellow eyes where the white would normally be. No, this guy's irises were yellow rimmed with red. It was pretty trippy.

In the end I opted to get out in Boise. As efficient and fun a ride it would have been to get all the way to Portland four days after leaving Denver, I also could have flown to Seattle and been there in a few hours from leaving Denver. I'd passed the supposed Dead Zone, Todd was in Boise at his sister's, and there were a few others I also was excited to see that I'd met on my previous walk. I've always liked Boise anyway.

Victor dropped me on the off ramp in Eagle, a suburb of Boise and we bid our goodbyes. We exchanged numbers as well and both figured we hadn't seen the last of each other. From there I was on the phone to Todd and he guided me in the three miles to his sisters in the dead of night.

It was quite a late hour by the time I walked into this very swanky neighborhood, dirty, stinky, and with a big pack on my back. It was a geek fest when Todd welcomed me into his garage guest room and we lounged about the couches with sodas catching each other up on our many tales from the past two weeks.

9/3- The Wonderful Way of the Hitch

I'll concede, Todd was right. Hitching is a ton of fun, though I do prefer the backroad approach to the truck stop sit style. To each his own.

When last we left me I had just been dropped off in Silverthorne, CO. One mighty ride over the Rockies and through the Eisenhower Tunnel. After sitting in the library for a stint, reclining to the air conditioning and emails, I strapped on my pack again and set off back to the road. This time up CO-9 to test out the theory of small road thumbing.

I had barely gotten to the northern edge of town when a truck filled with logs and branches pulled up behind me. Caleb was hauling some crap off to dump and apologized for the small amount of room in the cab, but I hoped to put him at ease letting him know any ride is a good ride and the pack feels fine in my lap rather than on my back.

He was a neat guy, and as conversation rolled around we hit on a common bond as the ill fated "nice guys". I had struggled with that mark all through high school on into college and only in the past few years have I learned how to love the role rather than be condemned by it. It seems some of the secret is in self assertion, but retaining the respect of others. This was a topic I had not forseen talking about by any stretch of the imagination, but when we hit on it suddenly we were both launched into passionate speeches on the topic.

I was sad to see him go when we landed in Kremmling so soon. I wished him luck and set off down the main street in town. Food was low, water was okay, and the road ahead of me to Steamboat was looking treacherously long. For the next 53 miles I was told I'd find nothing but open land. No little towns, no gas stations, no havens of any sort to refuel and replenish. At the edge of Kremmling was a community grocery store that I meandered debating loading up on excess food and water to sustain me, but in the end, whether wise or not, I opted for the gamble of testing the resources I had on me.

Two miles out of town I started questioning my wisedom. Todd's diatribes on the hubris of McCandless followers began to float through my head. I wasn't by any stretch going out into the wilds, but I was throwing myself out there a little bit into the kindness of strangers. I had enough food to last me 53 miles easily, if I could keep up my old walking feet of 20-30 miles a day. I, however, did not figure in that I had not been walking such distances in over five years other than my brief Colorado walk in early April where I maybe walked 20.

Soon enough, though, my worries were put to ease. Interestingly enough it seemed to be around the time that my calculations in my head decided that if I could find water enough for all the boiling and cleaning of the food and pots I had then I would be fine if I just hoofed it through. This mindset I would begin to keep an eye on over the next day or two.

Two guys pulled up in front of me with a loaded pick up and little room, but they told me to drop my pack in the back and cram in regardless. They took me six miles until the Gor Pass turn off, and I never got their names, but the ride itself restored some of my hope for catching another longer ride the rest of the way.

A mile down the road from where they dropped me I found a little lake. It was about 4:30pm by then and I figured it was time for lunch, if nothing else than just to take advantage of not having to deplete any of my drinking water for all the cooking and cleaning. I'd lent my water purifier to Todd for his backwoods adventure, but I figured if I'm boiling it up it should be fine. Besides, when I was a kid I drank out of lakes and streams all the time and only got sick once from it. Mental note; never drink out of a major river that runs through an industrial city. I spent a good hour or so lounging around, boiling up some noodles and washing up after.

Once I got back on the road my mind slid back into my old walking mentality of mile marker counting and calculating. Don't ask why, but when my mind drifts it drifts to mathematical calculations. I never did amazingly well in math or anything like that, but apparently my brain likes it as a relaxer. While passing mile marker 176 I remember thinking that if my walking speed is back to what it was then I should pass 173 in precisely one hour.

I never made it to 175. One hour later Josh was dropping me off at the library in Steamboat Springs 45 miles down the road. While I was walking, working on my internal math problems and occasionally throwing out my thumb, I'd noticed Josh's suburu fly by. A minute later he was pulling in on the other side having turned around to get me. He was coming from Denver and after seeing me walking he decided he couldn't abandon me to the heat.

It turned out he was another fresh Michigan import having come in from a few hours north of Detroit. For half the ride in we talked about the contrasts between people in the mountains to the people of the east coast. Personality differences, niceities, things like that. For the last half I was chuckling to myself as he told me in detail the greatness that is Cedar Point Amusement Park; Todd's bane. By the time he dropped me in Steamboat we were talking like friends and he gave me a few tips about how the town worked, a big one being the free bus that takes you all around town.

The library was closing in 45 minutes so I had only a little bit of time to update my Facebook status so people could know where I was, then check a few emails. From there I looked into this whole "free bus" thing and how far west I could get on it. A little wandering around looking clueless eventually got me to a bus stop by a local bar where Jack was wandering out of.

I liked Jack. He seemed to be having a good night all on his own. He was sure to tell me he had a good buzz going and was now happily retiring home, but that he loved this town. I felt a little ashamed of myself when I asked if it got annoying in the winter when all the tourists crammed in to ski. He just smiled, opened his arms, and with great enthusiasm said, "Noooo, I love this town. Its great all year round." I felt shame, because here I am thinking we should all be trying to make a little more positive conversation in the world and the first thing I ask is how annoying folks might be. He put me to shame with his enthusiasm for them.

We rode the bus out of town together as he asked me about my pack and what I was doing. I told him I had been hitching around and was making my way to Seattle to see my sister. He loved it and told me of how he'd always wanted to do that kind of thing. Before he left he pressed a few bucks into my hand and wished me luck.

The next stop was the last in a camp ground at the edge of town. I wandered out of there and went down about the road about half a mile to find a free place to camp. There was a pristine spot down a steep drop off a curve in the road. It landed me on a little grassy outcropping right by a small river. With a full moon and an open sky I drifted off for the night.

The next day I made myself a big breakfast, again, taking advantage of the water nearby for boiling and cleaning. Using up the last of my noodles and a good chunk of my rice and boulion cubes I ate a very, very salty large meal that was a little bit disgusting. From there I set off walking down the road again toward Craig.

It was the same deal as the wander out of Kremmling. I went a few miles and was picked up by a guy whose name I didn't get. He dropped me about six or seven miles down the road in a little town called Milner. He gave me a few helpful hints on how to approach getting to I-80 in Wyoming, but they ended up not being needed. There was a curve a mile or so down from where he dropped me and as I rounded it another pick up pulled up telling me he was going to Craig. This was Skins.

Skins is a pretty fucking cool guy. He had moved to Craig from the beaches of California to be a granddad. His son had moved to Grand Junction, so Skins bought a motel in Craig with a house on top and took up Colorado mountain living. When I first got in he told me he could definitely bring me to Craig but that he had to empty out a storage unit there, but after that he was going up to Baggs, WY. Hearing that, and given my dear affinity for moving, I offered my services for the ride. This lead to a full afternoon hearing of Skins' various adventures, history of the area and its resources, and his political beliefs. Todd and he would have gotten along just fine as well.

As we hitched, loaded, and unloaded and unhitched the trailer through out the afternoon Skins would tell me of the vast pure resources stuck in the ground around Craig that was being siphoned off to places like Denver, Texas, and Pennsylvania to dirty it up. We talked at length about his days in California cruising the beaches on a specially crafted trike, and chilling in the strip bars. As he talked about raising his kids we started getting into the sociology and political beliefs that Todd loves, and I shared a lot of my friend Loreli's beliefs as well with raising Izzy. Namely, that parents who raise their kids with unconventional, but far more affective, methods live in constant fear of the state taking their kids away.

By these unconventional methods I'm not saying they beat the crap out of them or something like that. I mean by varying their education so that they actually learn in the world, rather than suffer the 15 year waste of youth of schooling aimed at indoctrinating you into being a well behaved, unquestioning citizen that can fit nicely into the 9 to 5 program until retiring to no social security. I look at Izzy and am envious of the outlook she's being given of the world at her age.

Toward the end of the afternoon we wrapped up the work and were off to Baggs. Skins had decided that in exchange for my help he'd give me a lift all the way to Crescent Junction where I-80 is. However, it came with the warning that Crescent Junction consists of an on ramp, an off ramp, and a fireworks store, but if I wanted I could hang out at his place in Baggs to try to pick up a ride there with the truckers. Given the stories I'd heard from Todd about getting rides with truckers and their policies against riders I opted for the direct I-80 connection which was an hour past Baggs.

That whole ride up was my political education. Skins told me about his days as a Freeman and their fight against he Federal Reserve and income tax. I have known for a little while now that income tax is illegal, there's plenty of documentaries on it and court cases if you look them up, and I had also known the Fed is a bullshit private organization that is the reason for "the business cycle" of a recession every twenty five years or so. I hadn't known that speeding tickets were a jurisdictional scam. I haven't looked into it yet, but if anyone's interested and does some research I'd love it if you emailed me some of the things you find out.

Skins left me by the on ramp in Crescent with a sandwich, a couple candy bars, and a few extra bucks for helping him out. It was a great ride and I hope to keep in touch with him. He gave me one last offer to come back to Baggs with him if I wanted now that I could see the desolation of where I was being left, but I figured its no more desolate here than the lonely back highways I've been walking. So we shook hands and off he went.

I stood there. I stood there leaning against a light pole nicely placed by the on ramp looking around at where I'd likely be camping that night, trying to figure out the best spot. Occasionally workers would drive by in vans or pickups, but I knew I wouldn't be getting rides with them or the truckers that passed every once in a while. To my surprise, though, I only needed to stand there for about 40 minutes before another pick up pulled beside me.

Tossing my pack into the back and jumping in the cab Sean shook my hand yelling something about losing a bet. For a second I wasn't sure what to say, didn't seem he was talking to me, but I couldn't figure out who else he'd be talking to until I say a nice looking phone attached to the dashboard and soon enough it was talking back to him. It was an interesting beginning to the ride. Normally I feel like an annoying chatter box as I blabber on trying to find something in common with the driver so its worth their while to have gotten me. This time, it was clearly unnecessary so I just relaxed and watched the land go by.

About half way to Rock Springs Sean and I ended up chatting. He was a busy guy, hadn't been home in three days while out running about making his trucking business flow. As we got to talking we got into comparing stories of our days being over worked. He had me licked working 8 days straight with only the occasional nod off here and there hauling trucks to and fro. I humbly shared my 88 hour weeks working in the basement of a Japanese department store and candy shop with a two hour commute each way back in Hawaii. That and weird set hours back in my indie film days.

As we neared Rock Springs, however, the conversation once again turned to politics as would be the theme of the day with rides. I agreed whole heartedly with Sean in that if politicians would just leave things alone for a bit and see what the things they have put in place will do we might have a chance. As it is, it seems we're doomed to a lot more meddling.

The sun set by the time he was dropping me off at the Flying J in Rock Springs. We'd had a good time chatting in the end and I was really surprised when he offered me some money as I was getting out. Once he was off I set about looking around the place, figuring if I should grab a bite to eat or find a place to sleep. I ended up just sitting in front of the store after updating my location on the computer inside.

As I sat there, taking a load off for a minute, an older guy nodded a hello to me on his way in. He tanked up, then went back into pay joking that I was still there. On his way out he suddenly turned to me and said he was heading west if I was looking for a ride. Absolutely.

Joining my pack in the back of Dock's pickup was a parrot he was bringing to a guy in Nevada who lived in a house decked out like a pirate's cove. Dock was mainly going to Provo, UT, though, to visit his sons. It was an incredibly silent ride all the way to Evanston, with occasional comments exchanged. He was dead tired, I could tell, as he'd left the Branson, MO area around 5:30 that morning and was driving straight through. Rolling with the riders theme of the day, though, the one time we did talk for a bit it was to discuss our disgust for the political situation these days. As he succinctly put it, we need to get rid of them all and just start over again.

Once in Evanston he left me off at yet another Flying J. I stayed there for a bit then decided to stroll out of town to find camp. The Flying J was off Exit 3 and any traffic going west would be heading dead on into Utah, a dead zone for hitchers as I hear it. I knew I may have gone too far passsing up Green River for Evanston anyway, but I figured if I had any chance at all at picking up a ride it would be down WY-89 heading north toward Idaho, not west into Salt Lake.

I walked through town and out under a full moon. It was beautiful. The moon was so bright I decide to walk quite a few miles, probably four or five by the time I found a place to lay down. Snuggling up behind some grass just tall enough to conceal me next to a barbed wire fence I passed out.

Today I awoke refreshed and ready for a long walk ahead of me. I wasn't really expecting rides too often since I was going to be dipping into Utah about 11 miles down the road. Once again, however, after a few miles Braun pulled up in yet another pick up.

Braun came out of Arizona by the Utah border and was up in Evanston on work. Apparently there was trouble with the chimneys so he decided to take off back to where he was staying in Kemmerer. He gave me a thing of chips and drove me through the Utah strip and back into Wyoming again until we hit a T where WY-89 and went north toward Idaho and US-30 went west toward Kemmerer. Conversation had been choppy at best, but it was a bit of a shock to jump out at the T dead set in the middle of nowhere. None the less, it was a good 40 or 50 mile ride north.

Setting off down the road again the sun had risen a bit higher now and was beaming down. I walked another five or six miles, sometimes thumbing, sometimes not bothering, before I was picked up again by Randy.

Randy and I hit it off right away. He was up from the Branson area as well and out on business up here gathering land to run power lines through. We talked a lot about some of his trips around and my travels, exchanging stories of eccentric people we'd met. He drove me up into Idaho to where I am now in Montepelier and as I crossed over the border talking about these exciting characters we'd met I got excited to be nearing an old friend I'd met on my walk years back.

Just before leaving Loreli's this past weekend I found Lex and his son Glen on Facebook and told them I was traveling again. Lex is up in Bellevue and Glen is over in Boise. I'm hoping to be able to make my way to see either of them if not both. Crossing into Idaho got me excited that it could be coming up soon. Todd also has been settled down at his sisters outside of Boise and I'm not sure, but might be hanging out long enough to catch me coming through.

Either way, the hour is waning and I feel I may have a few more rides to catch before the day is through here.