HITCH-HICKING ADVENTURES
PART 1
They say the first is always the best. My first big hitchhiking adventure in 1973 was certainly epic and etched in my mind with many of the specific things that happened along the way. I left in June and returned in late September. That trips story when I complete it will be a big one.
In the early spring of 1974 I headed back out to California with my dog Iva. I had a specific goal to meet up with a young woman that I had met at a church coffeehouse. Her name was Elizabeth. She and I wanted to connect in San Diego where she had moved. I only had the name of the church she was attending. I had no phone numbers or addresses.
THE ROAD ATLAS WAS – GPS
As I’ve been checking back and working through the road atlas trying to remember which route I took. It’s surprising to me how difficult it is to remember the events in the first leg of this particular trip. I have many vivid memories of once I got there and the people I stayed with while I was in Laguna Beach, wonderful memories. And I also remember very specifically the trip back to Pennsylvania that occurred the following November. How the day that I arived at my parents home in Pennsylvania I became an uncle all in the same day. Between the second trip to and the third trip was when I began to play guitar and write songs.
The third trip was one that I took to northern Canada on the eastern side. I had two friends Pat and Carroll who are going to Nova Scotia and asked me if I wanted to join them. They had a Volkswagen bus. I found a friend to watch Iva my dog.
I left Bucks County Pennsylvania with them the following August of 1975. They also brought a friend, his name was Joel. We all squeezed into that Volkswagen bus along with our backpacks, sleeping bags and musical instruments. Pat brought a guitar and Carroll always had her banjo. I’ll never forget the excitement that we all had to go on an adventure together. We were all right around 20 years old. As we headed north on interstate 95, no cell phones, no GPS, just pure enthusiastic youth looking to embrace the unknown. We had a destination that was specific in nature, the destination at that point was Nova Scotia and Cape Breton, Canada.
MEETING CANADA
The first night of the journey we spent on Prince Edward Island. Pat found an old back road that we followed to an empty field. It was there where he pulled over and we set camp. A hot balmy night, difficult to sleep in a down sleeping bag. One by one the mosquitoes began to appear. Pat and Carroll were the only ones with a tent. It was only large enough for them to sleep in. Joel and I were under the stars. There was no escaping the mosquitoes, they came like an army. We had to zip up or down sleeping bags to completely cover ourselves. They were still landing on my face, this made it impossiple to sleep that night. I remember getting to the point where I had to pull the sleeping bag hole so tight but only my nose would be able to take air in.
When the morning light woke us I remember sitting up in the sleeping bag and looking at a Joel. His nose was swollen and red just like mine from the mosquito bites. It was really a funny sight to see us. We happily left Prince Edward Island, never to return to dance with mosquitoes again. We took the Ferry, first time I’ve ever been on a boat that size. It’s quite an exciting adventure to stand on the back of the boat and watch the water swirl in the power of the propellers as it pushed us away from land. When we landed in Yarmouth, Nova Scotia it was there we were transformed into an old world. Beautiful fishing village, simple magical structures that the local folks lived in. Almost experiencing a dream of time standing still.
It was a beautiful sunny day I remember one of the first things we did was to pull over to a hand painted wood sign that said crab legs. My God were thy good! We each bought a bag of crab legs for just a few dollars and we feasted on what was the most delicious tender seafood I had ever eaten. We shared a bond unlike any other. Very special as we knew that we were experiencing a new world together.
The village faded behind us as we started traveling north on the coastal road that followed the mountain cliffs. With rolling pastures on our right and the bay of Fundy on our left it was a breathtaking site. It reminded me of traveling through Big Sur California where I had been a few years earlier. Equally as beautiful though raw in intellect and civilization. It invoked an emotion that made me never want to leave. Seeming to touch the DNA that was etched my soul. I felt like I was looking through the eyes of my grandparents and my great grandparents over their homeland which was Ireland.
THE PASSING OF A DREAM
This was indeed a profound experience for me personally though I can see it also igniting in the eyes of my companions. We were just smiling and looking over what would be our future. We followed that windy, wind-blown road around the waters edge of the island. Camping along the way in Pine Forests and cliffs. We could look out over the cold gulf waters and see whales and dolphins happy and about in their habitat. Even more majestic and void of civilization was Cape Breton. When we circled the top of the northern-most point we met a woman that took us to a house of her friend. It was abandoned. He had recently passed away and had spent his lifetime building it out of the local stone, wood, and other raw materials. His story touched me and moved me to think about architecture in a special way. I just imagined what he must have gone through to live and do that. To accomplish his dream and then spend following years living in it. And dying in it. I left that house feeing like he passed me his dream.
When we followed the West Coast of Nova Scotia down to Dartmouth we parted ways. Carroll and Pat had obligations in Pennsylvania and needed to return. So they were going to circle back the way we came. Joel and I were both to excited about our new discoveries and decided to continue our adventure. We took the ferry over to Newfoundland, then we would have to hitch rides from there. Another fantastic experience. This was a much larger ship and halfway into a seven hour journey we ran into a violent storm. It tossed the boat and its contents around like a child playing with toys. People were getting sick and throwing up everywhere. Tables are sliding back-and-forth from one end of the room to the other. What was hours before a cocktail lounge looked like it had been through war. I remember just rolling up in a ball with my sleeping bag under one of the attached tables and waiting for the storm to pass. When it did people were gathering themselves back together. The bathrooms were full. It took the remainder of the voyage for the crew to clean up and travelers to compose themselves.
NEWFOUNDLAND
The dock in Newfoundland was very minimal. There were no fishing villages or houses like it was in Nova Scotia. Just the place for the ship to pull in and unload its cargo and passengers. We were ahead of the group and left on foot. The storm was still brewing and it was raining. We stood ahead of the traffic as it pulled off of the boat. tanding with hopful young smiles our thumbs sticking out in a gesture of request. It seems as though there were no takers until finally at the end a pick up truck pulled over.
It already had three passengers in its cab but they offered for us to get into the back bed that was open to the sky. We gratefully excepted and sat with our backs against the cab of the truck looking as the road past under us as the Atlantic Ocean faded into the western rain filled sky. The rain began coming down harder and harder. I took out my sleeping bag from my backpack and crawled into it and pulled it over my head to give myself some protection from the rain pelting my skin. We traveled for hours like that. Forcing myself to sleep to evade the dismal situation.
Finally when we got into the main town of Corner Brook the rain has stopped and only the storm clouds for the canopy above us. The truck pulled over at an intersection to let us out. As we got up we were so stiff as if we had Rigamortus. We slowly put our wet belongings back into our backpacks stood there on the edge of the road looking out over the village soaking wet. Right away after our arrival another car pulled right up to us this man introduced himself as a reporter for the local newspaper and gave us a proposition.
He told us if we would allow him to take us to the tourist bureau where he could take pictures of us he would then bring us to the YMCA where we could get a hot shower and dry our clothes. We gratefully excepted and drove with him too it was a modern looking building built in the late 60s where we posed for his article. After a month of traveling north and passing back through the town I was able to find the newspaper that had a copy of the picture an article. I’m fortunate to still have it today.