The Second Day of an Unusual Journey: Hitchhiking to Alberta
Posted: Monday, January 09, 2012
by Jack H. Schick
I didn’t know where I was. I was confused like one often is when aroused after far too little sleep. It took a few moments for any cognizance to return. When I opened my eyes I saw two large, black ants crawling on plaid material inches from my face. Something tickled my cheek. I brushed it away. It was bright daylight. Tall, pale green grass surrounded me, shaded me, rippled and schushed in the wind making an eerie, almost electric sound. Suddenly, the whine of tires and the zoom of a tractor-trailer rushing past brought me out of my dreamy state, and I remembered. I was in my sleeping bag, lying on the embankment a few dozen yards off the Interstate highway at Des Moines, Iowa.
I raked my fingers through my tousled hair and rubbed my teeth with a knuckle. If I looked too rugged, I might never get a ride. I started walking west along the highway, turning around and sticking my thumb out whenever I heard a car coming. Most of the traffic was trucks, and they seldom picked up riders. But, I’d gone only a few hundred yards when a car did stop. He was a lone businessman headed for Omaha. That was past my next turn off so I eagerly got in. It was only 6:30am. I’d gotten maybe three hours sleep.
The driver was friendly, but a little too fatherly. I was 18 and had my draft card, but there was no reason to antagonize him. He made me call my parents and tell them where I was when we stopped for gas. They thought I was still in Pittsburgh. A couple hours later, he let me out. I got off of I-80 and onto I-29 North near Council Bluffs. I was headed for Picture Butte, Alberta to see a girl. I planned to cross into Canada at Sweet Grass, north of Shelby, Montana. To get there, I’d have to cross South Dakota and Montana on I-90, then turn north through Helena and Great Falls. I had at least another two days on the road.
By late morning, I’d gotten a few shorter rides and was in Sioux Falls. I’d never been in South Dakota before and was happy to check it off the list of states I’d not yet seen. West of the town, I was picked up by a rather strange looking fellow in an old but well kept car. He was headed for the central part of the state for a fishing trip. He loved to talk. I would have preferred to sleep, but was happy to have a ride and listened (sort of) attentively.
According to him, his neighbor was convinced he was having a ‘relationship’ with his wife. My guy swore it wasn’t true. He knew the wife had gone down in Sioux City to visit her sister for the weekend. He had planned on staying home, but decided to go on his fishing trip to drive the neighbor “out of his tree.” With both him and the wife out of town at the same time, the husband would surely think they were together. He kept repeating “it’ll drive him out of his tree…yeah right out of his tree.” I was only with him for a few hours. He was a nice enough guy, to me anyway—he bought me lunch--but his constant chatter nearly ‘drove me out of my tree.’
It was cloudy and drizzly as we crossed the eastern half of South Dakota. I was from Penn’s Woods. The Dakota landscape reminded me of the ocean. The rolling, grass covered hills seemed like swells on the sea. An occasional lonely farm house or a small dirt road cutting across it was all that broke the undulating treeless prairie. When we topped a low hill and dropped down into a valley to cross a small river, the green and yellow and subdued shades of purple grass, subtle in the overcast light, created a hypnotic eeriness that calmed and quieted me. He dropped me off there. I stood spellbound amid it. I felt synonymous with the strange landscape around me; a small cork adrift in the vastness of the sea.
I could only tentatively hold out my thumb. I was in a dreamy state, felt distracted and afar. It was though I belonged there and should stay. But, a young guy in a VW station wagon stopped for me and I got in. He was headed for Oregon and could take me as far as Butte, Montana. That was over 800 miles! A huge weight of concern lifted. The odd grip the prairie had on me soon faded. I sat back to relax and enjoy the ride. From Butte it was a straight run up I-15 to Canada. I was drawn back into the world of men. Purpose and direction was restored.
When we approached the Badlands the he asked me if I wanted to take a side trip through the park. He’d been there before but would take the 40 mile detour if I wanted to go. I thought about it for a minute, and then said “No.” Badlands are badlands, I thought, but I always regretted the decision. Years later when I moved out West, I went hundreds of miles out of my way to see and camp in the Badlands.
Toward evening we got off the interstate and took a diagonal short cut across southeastern Montana. He’d planned to stop at a campsite in a Custer National Forest that he was familiar with. It was dark when we got to our site. He had only a plastic, lean-to tent, but a good, expensive sleeping bag. I had no tent at all and a lightweight summer bag. He tied the tent up between two trees using the headlights to see. He offered to let me sleep on the inside, against the back of the tent.
I’d had a scare the night before when a bunch of guys piled out of a car and started walking toward me near Chicago. I was reluctant to follow his good advice. I envisioned myself, trapped in the back of the tent, with him between me and escape. I chose to sleep on the outside. He warned me that I’d be cold, and I surely was. I’d had a long couple of days with a lot less sleep than I needed, so I dozed off without much trouble, but I woke up several times during the night, shivering.
And so, in the black pine forest of Southeastern Montana I ended the second day of my unusual journey. Inspired by adventure and infatuation with a girl, I’d crossed two thirds of the continent in two days, riding nothing but my thumb. With any luck at all, I’d be in Picture Butte the following day, having covered the 2,500 miles in only slightly longer than it would have taken me to drive it by myself. And, I hadn’t yet spent a dime.
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Top-level comments on this article: (1 total)Courage and a good listener are keeping you going, interesting..waiting for day 3.day three will be posted soon- thanks for reading and commenting
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