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.