10/15- Stand Still, Don't Rush

Matt and I had a lazy morning the next day as we chatted over his upcoming travels. He's suped up his RV for a multi-month drive around the US. We even swapped numbers when we found out some of our ideas of where we'd be might overlap in the future. Downing the last of our coffee, he broke out this behemoth tricked out mobile home and drove me to the Walton General Store.

People lately have been telling me that I'm taking my experiences a bit far. That I'm getting a little too wrapped up in the "metaphysics" of it all and ignoring the possibilities of simply having coincidences or things working out on their own. I know I also have a tendency to run with concepts a little excessively, but I do feel like that's part of my process to wanting to understand something. Once I've run that concept, theory, or philosophy to the far end of the other side to the point of ridiculous then I reel myself back in to try and figure out where the middle, and hopefully the understanding, is. That said, I'm going to try and keep myself from editorializing my experience getting from Eugene, OR to Springfield, MA.

Matt dropped me off at the little lot, that was actually the last pull over for the next 20 miles at least. He did his business there and I took up a spot by a wood carved bear and we waved goodbye to each other. I felt a little silly just standing there, staring at the curve in the road, and chucking my thumb out whenever a car or truck came around it. I've always tended to feel a little silly just standing there waiting for someone to come along and help me out when I'm doing nothing to help myself out other than waving my thumb flag to let people know I'd like a ride. It feels like a waste of time, and time was on the crunch now having only 15 days to get down to San Fran and across to Massachusetts for my Dad's birthday.

Half an hour after standing there getting, comfortable with standing there and not figeting calculating how many miles I could have walked down the road by now, a cop rolled up next to me. Todd flashed through my head quickly, but then the cop said that this was the last spot on the road to get reception for his cellphone and was just checking his messages and making some calls. Just to be sure, I asked him if I was fine hitching here and he let me know that hitching was fine, and that the only thing the police don't like are when you're walking with your back to traffic because there's no shoulder and its unsafe.

Joking around, the cop apologized for being there saying he was probably bad for advertizing for me. I told him he might actually help me out, because the last time a cop held me up I picked up a big rig trucker that took me all the way through Idaho in one go specifically because he'd watched me get IDed. Never-the-less this guy didn't ID me, and soon enough he was on his way. About fifteen minutes later I met Bill.

Bill was running deliveries down the coast out of a cube truck and was happy to have the company. It would take him all day to get down about 100 hundred miles from Florence, which was the coastal town I was aiming for at the end of this road. He was happy to take me to Florence, but figured I'd be better off getting out there and picking up a longer distance ride out of that town. We talked mostly about his days living around here, how the roads had changed completely, and how he really loved fishing. Just casual talk, and when we got to Florence half an hour later we shook hands and I was off again.

Oregon is great because there is no sales tax to be paid. There was a Dollar Store across the way from where Bill dropped me, so I strapped on my pack and resupplied myself there tax free. I also picked up a canned lunch, when I finished that I set off walking down Rt. 101, my coastal road south.

I walked for probably about an hour and a half, if not two hours. Again, cars were just wizzing past and there was just as enough shoulder for me to walk on, but not enough for cars to comfortably pull over to get me. After this stretch of 1.5 to 2 hours of throwing my thumb out a pick up finally pulled over with Idaho plates. It was a beat up, rusty old thing, and the dog inside accompanying Jim was one of those rough looking mutts you don't mess with. He was a sweet heart, though, and kept nuzzling his nose into me for the duration of the ride.

Jim had only picked me up for a 4 mile hop, however. The entire four miles he spent telling me that I shouldn't be walking on the side of the road like that. There's no place for anyone to pick me up and that I needed a pull in so folks could stop if they wanted to. He dropped me at literally just a pull in. I'm not even sure why it was there, but it was a fifteen foot deep thirty foot long pull in with nothing there opposite a road across the street coming to a T.

Dropping me there Jim told me that if I got stuck there for the day all I had to do was go down that street, take the first right and look for the yellow school bus. That was his house and he'd be happy to have me for the night. So I got out, now with a complete understanding that I should not be walking anywhere, if nothing else just due to the physicality of the roads, and here I had a safety net of refuge provided for me if nothing came. Once again I stood there and threw my thumb out.

One thing I like about the bag I swapped out in Denver is that it isn't actually meant for long range, rugged hiking. Its a touring bag, it can go on your back, or the straps can fold in and zip up to turn it into a duffle. I hadn't used that feature too much, other than when I stayed at people's places, but I figured now I might as well fold in the straps because it doesn't look like I'll be doing much hiking with it in the next few days. About forty-five minutes later a car pulled in for me.

Amy and her son were heading down to Reedsport, about 15 to 20 miles south. I was a bit surprised to be picked up by a mother and her son, but she was totally comfortable with me, especially with my pack on my lap wedging me in. She was hilarious. The whole way down she went on about some YouTube video her sister in Florence had showed her about the people of Florence and their problem solving skills when a whale lands on their beach. It was hilarious and traggic all at once and got us talking about the Darwin awards for the rest of the ride.

When she dropped me off in Reedsport it was at a perfect spot. I was on the south end of town right by the last traffic light with a pull over on the south side of the intersection. This time I wasn't about to strap on my pack and keep walking. Instead, I thanked Amy and wished her well, then carried my bag to the light and stood on the south side with my thumb out. Ten minutes passed before I got into another car.

Rodney was cool as shit. We hit it off right away as we sped down toward Bandon some 50 miles away. He was less than enthusiastic about having to leave Portland and spend his weekend on a cranberry hunt of some sort. He wasn't even sure what he was doing down there, he just knew work was making him go. Either way, we clicked immediately as we talked about my travels and his. There was a lot of connection there on my more intuitive based ideas which was the bulk of the conversation.

As we got closer to Bandon we realized his meeting spot for the next morning was somewhere between Bandon and Port Orford, the next town down. This spot turned out to be dead center between the two towns, and rather than turn around once we'd spotted it, he decided to just get a hotel down in the next town in hopes that it would look a bit more lively than Bandon did. Rodney's keen hopes were set on finding a suitable bar to spend his evenings in while there.

Port Orford was another 26 miles past Bandon, and directly on the coast. He spotted one bar in town, a hotel diagnally across the street from it, and then a beautiful rest stop diagnally the other way across from hotel again. We pulled in and said my thanks and goodbyes while admiring the sea. We even had an elderly couple take our picture together. As I started toward the roadside again he invited me to come have drinks with him if nothing came. Given that I was about an hour or so from sunset, and the setting was so nice, I figured that would be my plan for the night. It'd be good to talk more with him.

Instead, five minutes after stepping on the curb Russ pulled up and told me to hop in. Russ is a self proclaimed 65 year old hippy that he's waiting for the cops to arrest. Back in January he opened a medical marijuana store and pretty much treats is like a regular pot dealing dwelling and is surprised he's been open as long as he has. He advertizes all over the county that he has pot brownies and cookies every Tuesday and Wednesday and can't get over that what he's doing is legal. In fact, if I were to take a guess, I'd say that's the one aspect he might have any shame about.

As he drove me another 26 miles down the coast he told me he had the perfect spot for me to camp out at. Perfect, right at the end of the day. It was on the beach at a rest stop where free camping was legal. It had full facilities, picnic tables, and was a great spot to catch rides from either into the night or the next morning.

It had been threatening rain all day, and even peed a little once I got into Florence and set off walking 101. I'd also seen at Matt's, the night before, that rain was heavily predicted all week down the coast. When we pulled into the rest stop it was nothing but clear blue skies. I said something about it to Russ, as he dug out an ounce of pot from his trunk for a picture, and he said that it had something to do with a mountain just north of there that threw off the weather patterns and generally left this spot with sunny days. A perfect spot indeed.

I snapped a picture of him, thanked him again, then he was off. The whole day had been such a whirlwind of people and, to me, lessons that I felt I'd learned that I had that giddy joy Todd and I both had back in April at Cape May. I even did the same things. I snapped a bunch of pictures of me in the dunes, then ran down and played by the tide, then bedded down under the stars and just stared at them for an hour or so. The only differences this time was the inability to immediately share it with everyone. Todd wasn't there to glow in it with, and with my pre-paid phone system now I couldn't call anyone to tell them all about it. Instead I wrote a letter, then just enjoyed it quietly to myself and that was just as fine.