---August 27th 2013---
Heading the Wrong Way
It is now noon of August 27th, Pacific Time, and I just landed in Tacoma. My goal was simple; cover the entire western half of the American soil hitchhiking. The first challenge was to get out of the labyrinth of the airport, and once I found the light rail, I manage to reach downtown Seattle. My second challenge was then to find where to start hitchhiking, and head toward Vancouver, British-Colombia, to meet with my two best friends. They had being hitchhiking across Canada for four month, and one of them, Mik, was supposed to hitchhike with me down the country. We had talked about it for a while, and decided to travel together, but as two individual hitchhikers. Having that settled, we could separate at any given time.
Once out of the train, I looked at the skyscrapers top to see which side were shaded. Being in the Northern Hemisphere, the Sun is always slightly south, and so the shade will always be north around noon. Now that I know where north is, I know in which direction I need to go. And once I found a city map, I got to see where the highways were.
As I approached de highway entrance, I noticed a cop car nearby, looking at the entrance. At that point, not only have I never had any encounter with the law enforcer, but, I didn’t know the legality of hitchhiking. Having the nature I have, I got scared and decided to keep walking, at least until the next exit. As I was walking along the street nearing the highway, two homeless guys about my age came to talk with me. They were tattooed covered squeegees with piercing and colourful shirts. They were my first encounter of the trip, needless to say I was a little worried having them by my side. Once at their tent, they invited me to stay for the night, but still being mid-day, I told them I wanted to keep walking to reach the next highway entrance and start heading north. I was starting to feel week, and tired, the 60lbs bag strapped to my bag was starting to be unbearable, so I ask a passing guy how far was the next entrance, but the answer sounded too far of a walk. My answer was to go back to the first entrance, and wait for the police to leave before getting my thumb up. Thankfully, they had already left the highway letting me do my thing.
To help me get rides, I had a sign written VANCOUVER on it, only, I didn’t know at that point that there was two Vancouver in the region, one in British-Colombia, north of Seattle, but also one right next to Portland, south of Seattle. Obviously, the local American didn’t know about the Canadian one, and so almost everybody would tell me I was going the wrong way.
Still on the side of the road, a guy coming back from lunch past by me and stopped. A little embarrassed, he asked me if I were a homeless. I told him my story, and why I was hitchhiking, just a few minutes later, he reached in his wallet to give me a little bit of money, but I rejected the offer. Little did I know how much money people were going to give me through my trip.
After about an hour, I gave up. City hitchhiking is very hard, the entrance was very hard to stop on, and everybody were telling me to head south. I decided to take one of the suburbs bus, but I didn’t know which line to take. I thought the best thing to do was to take a random bus and at the moment he would get off of the highway, I could leave the bus and start hitching again. I got into the first one, and at the moment it got off, I rang the belt, but the bus kept on going. He didn’t have any other stop then the two in Seattle, and one once in town. I was not heading north anymore, but east, and we rolled for quite a while. Once in town, I got to a Starbuck Coffee, and used their internet to use my GPS. Once I knew where I was, I walked to another highway, where not long after raising my thumb, a truck stopped. The driver was heading back to Seattle, so I asked him to drop me at the intersection of the highways, but instead, we got lost, and I ended up once more east of the city, but this time, slightly south.
It was starting to get dark, and I had no place to sleep. I tried hitchhiking for a few minutes, but no luck, so, seeing the big scary cloud heading my way, I started looking for a place to hide for the night. To my great surprise, as I was walking on the side walk, an Indian family pulled over. I jumped in and told them I was looking for a place to sleep, and immediately, they told me there was a camping not too far from Bellevue’s downtown. They bought me a burger, and drove me to the camping. They didn’t accept tents, so we got to the next one, but this one was even more south. As we were driving, I asked them one of my typical questions: “Do you pick up a lot of hitchhikers?” And they told me that when they saw me, they knew I was sent from God to test them. Now I don’t believe in God, but I got to say, that if that was indeed the case they would have passed the test, especially since they even offered to pay for my camping. And as I thought my disastrous day was coming to an end, I laid down on my mattress, I heard a pfzzzzzzzz, my mattress had a hole. I would need to endure eight month without any flatted mattress.
The next morning, the horrible sound of rain woke me up. My moral was already getting pretty low. I stayed awake in bed for a little while, and finally got up. Intrigued as to where I was, I walked back to the highway entrance, and tried again to aim to Vancouver. This time though, I would need to fully cross Seattle. Very rapidly, someone picked me up, it was to be able to use the car pulling lane, but at least, I get a ride off of it. The guy was only going as far as the south end of downtown, so once arrived at destination, I started walking, for five hours overall. I used the opportunity to also visit the few landmark of the city. Finally, I managed to find an entrance that got me out of the city, and within just a few cars, with very little wait; I got back to the border leading back to my country.
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| Seattle |
Already Hell? But it’s just my second night!!
I was a little nervous as to go back to my country, I needed to cross my first border hitchhiking. I got lucky, the border patrol was smooth. I answered all his question, always saying the absolute truth even if sometime the answer is not one you tell officers, and he let me in. On the other hand, was in, I very rapidly got a bit more problem, as an officer came telling me it is strictly illegal to hitchhike in British-Colombia, but I knew the law. Calmly, and with much confidence, I responded by: “Yes officer, I know it is illegal to hitchhike on the highways in Canada. That being said, if I’m not mistaking, all other road, including highway entrances are ok for me to hitchhike on.” She pretentiously looked at me with a disappointed look not to have scared me off, and finally responded with “Alright, you may keep on going. But I’ll be watching you”.
At around 8 in the evening, I entered Vancouver. I got to the hostel where we were supposed to meet, but they were full, but if I wanted, for the same price as a bed, I could sleep on the ground. I asked if my friends were there, but they weren’t. We were supposed to meet the next day, but I thought they were staying in Vancouver until I would arrive. It turns out that they went for a few days on Vancouver Island, and came back on time, but I had already left the country. I asked if there was another hostel, and they gave me some directions. I carried my 60lbs to the next hostel, just a few rainy blocks away, but they two were full. They sent me to a third one about half an hour walk, and so, on the two blisters that were slowly getting bigger, I once more walked through the heavier rain, and through the night. I have to say, 40lbs, is annoying to carry, but 60lbs is horrible. You feel you spine being compressed, while your waist is being scrapped by the bag straps. But also, at that point, I wasn’t used to carry it for long distance. I never got used to it, but it became less unbearable as the month passed by. And so after an overall four hostel rejection, and no more hostel in a walking perimeter, a five hours walk under the blazing Sun in Washington, and finally a four hours walk under the rain, with blisters, and on an empty stomach from breakfast, I couldn’t keep on walking. I knew that if I walked back to the first hostel I could sleep on the floor, but it was another hour of walking, and so I threw my tent on Main Street, not far from Hasting, the one place not to hang out in Canada, as all the hobos go there to avoid the cold of winter. I didn’t know that yet, my brothers had told me but I had forgotten which streets were the dangerous one. I’m closing in on 11 at night, and I decide to put my tent in a dark alley of the Red Light District, while under the rain.
Hardly had I fell asleep that I heard two drunk homeless starting screaming at each other, followed by a beer bottle exploding. I knew staying here was only going to cause problem, and despite being hidden from the Main Street, the verbal fight came from an angle I wasn’t hidden from. In an instant, under the cold Pacific rain, I packed all my gears back into my tent, and without even taking the time to properly button my shirt, or tie my shoes; I left for the first hostel. I was tired, my back was agonizing in pain, and every step was more painful than the previous, due to not only my blister, but the small rock that slipped in my shoes. As I walked for another hour, a thought came to me: “It’s only my second night, and its hell. Everything is going wrong. I need to leave this place, and head down south, follow my original plan.”
The next morning wasn’t much nicer. The rain once more woke me up, and my moral was six feet under. I had to take a decision; do I stay here for an extra day, and see my friends, which I hadn’t being able to reach, or do I head back to the States. I knew if I were going to stay here too long, and not get a hold of my friend, I would completely lose the tiny bit of moral left in me, and so I left the hostel sending an email to my friends.
“Sorry if I didn’t wait for you guys, but my night was horrible, and I don’t know if you guys are going to make it on time.” I wrote down what happened the night before, and followed by saying, “I’m heading back to Seattle to cut across for the Olympic National Park. If you still want to hitch with me, tell me when you get in the States, and we will try to meet up somewhere logical for the both of us.”
As promised to my mom, I called her while in Vancouver, and as the telephone was ringing, I felt like I was going to burst into tears. I had pictured my trip being so wonderful and there I was, sitting under the rain, with two blistery feet, ready to quite. I was thinking that maybe travelling wasn’t meant for me, and that I would never be able to follow my dream. On the other hand, I knew I only had two days in my bag, and so I couldn’t quite just yet. When she finally answered, I choked for a second, and said hi. My dad tagged along, and I told them I arrived in Seattle, and went to Vancouver, but didn’t talk about all the bad moment, scared that they would tell me to come back home. But just before hanging up, my dad, who recognised the tone of voice of a low moral traveller, told not to worry; that first days are always hard. He told me to hang in there, while saying he felt the same way when he left on his different adventure, and finish by giving me a few tips. I felt much better. To know my family was supporting me, and that my dad could help me out with his experience, gave me the courage to tackle the rest of Canada. Still, I wasn’t going to stay, just hitch down to the border.
As recommended by my father, I took the monorail to White Rock, the southern suburbs of the metropole and stood under the heavy rain for a while until a lady picked me up, and brought me down to the border.
Being an immigration lawyer, my dad had told me, prior to my departure all the questions the border patrol would ask me to try to get me. And so, I was prepared to face the American side of the border.
They took my passport, and started asking me a few question on the reason for my visit to the United-States. When I told them I was a hitchhiker, they immediately responded by:
“Do you have any weapons?”
“Yes, I have a big six inch knife in my bag. I use it to cut ropes, branches for fires and to defend myself from wildlife when trekking. That being said, when I’m on the road, it stays in my bag. While I’m on the road, I do have a Swiss Knife, mostly for cardboards, but it is in my back pocket, so itis hard to take out of your pocket when you are sitting, so I couldn’t even use it to defend myself.”
“Can you proof you are leaving the country?”
“No, hitchhiking is a very unpredictable mode of transportation, and so I don’t know where I will be at the end of my trip. Therefore, I know I cannot stay in the United-States for more than 6 month, and I will be leaving the country by then.”
“What if you don’t have enough money to take a flight home? How are you going to get out of the country?”
“Before I left, I took $2000 dollars out of my account and put it in another one, so if I use all my money or someone steal it; I still have that extra $2000. If I were to lose also that money, for any reasons, my parents are capable of helping me; they are very well aware of my trip, and are willing to help me at any point. Finally, if I can’t even reach them, I can hitchhike to Vermont where we have a cottage. There, I know most border patrol, and my parents head there every weekend, so it would be easy for them to help me. Don’t forget hitchhiking is a very cheap mode of transportation.”
“This looks all good, but you know it is illegal to hitchhike in the USA?”
“Of course I know it’s illegal to hitchhike on the interstates, but anywhere else is legal.”
He knew I clearly knew the laws, and that I wasn’t going to be a problem. I was well organised, and well informed. So with synchronisation he gave me my passport and said “Welcome to the Unite-States.”
My First Partner
Installed right in front of the border, right under a sign saying “hitchhiking prohibited” I started hitchhiking. I could see the rain falling on the Canadian side of the border. And just like that, 45 minutes later, a car pulled over behind me. That is the exact moment where my trip went from horrible to great. For one thing, I was on the road, and no more borders to cross, but also, from that moment, up until I left the United-States, I only saw rain eight times, and I never lost my moral. I had a few rough spots, but other than my injury, nothing was as bad as Vancouver.
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| One of the many sign I simply ignored |
In that car were five kids my age. None of them knew each other; they met through Craig’s List, and were sharing a ride from Vancouver to Seattle, where everyone would go their separate way. Out of those five guys, there was Max, a German, from Munich, who was hitchhiking/backpacking through the States. His plan was to head to Seattle, and wait eight days or so, up until his next organised ride to New York was to leave. I asked him if he wanted to tag along for the Olympic Peninsula, while he was waiting for his next ride, and without hesitation, he accepted the offer.
Once in Seattle, our driver called a friend from the city and we headed for the bar. When the bar closed, the friend told us he didn’t mind if we stayed at his house for the night. There is was, the time someone invited me in his house.
The next day, Max and I took the bus across town, followed by the ferry toward Bainbridge. Once a shore, we waited for about 5 minutes, and got an hour ride to Sequim. Once again, a small 5 minutes later, a pick up pulled over, and through the window showed us to hop in the back. They were heading to Hurricane Ridge. Once at the parking lot of the overview, they told us to meet again in half an hour. We went for a small trek, and ended up at the view point, where through the clouds, we could see a little bit of the Olympic Mountains. Once in the car again, our driver told us they were going to Obstruction Point. Not caring much about our final destination, we agreed to stay with them. We started rolling down a small dirt road, zigzagging on the edge of the steep mountains through the fog up until they stopped at the trailhead. Not wanting to bother them, we told them to take the lead, as we were going to follow from a distance. It didn’t take too long for one to disappear behind us in the thick fog. And eventually, our paste brought us closer to the first one. Eventually, the leader of the trek stopped and asked us if we were hungry, as he took a bottle of wine, a few sandwiches and a joint. We all shared the wine and the sandwiches, but I skipped the joint. As we starts talking with them, they told us that they had room in there pick up, but were a little intimidated by two young men on the side of the road. Still wanting to help, they told us to hop in the back, but now that they knew us, they offered to hop in the front. And so, once back at the car, we got an upgrade. Finally, as they were heading back toward Seattle, they made a small detour to bring us to a camping, where Max and I stayed for the night.
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| Max walking along the Obstruction Point trail |
The next day, as we were hitchhiking on a dead end (without knowing of course), a police officer showed up. He asked us where we were heading, and as we answered, he laughed and told us the road we were on wasn’t going to bring us nowhere. Finally, he pointed at the road we were supposed to take, before saying “good luck” and leave. We walked the two blocks needed to get back on the main road, before we even got to take our bags off, two lady stopped. They were a local mother and visiting daughter, so wanting to enjoy a day with a faraway daughter, the mother took a day off of work. That being said, they didn’t have any plans. Luckily, I had a plan; head toward Crescent Lake to enjoy a swim, and take the opportunity to visit Marymere Fall. To make sure we weren’t going to miss anything, the mom added the old Elwah river dam. Once there, we got surprised by hundreds of old cedar tree stumps, some got up to 6’6” in diameter. The outside were still in decent shape, but the insides were empty. I obviously could help myself, and jumped into a few. A little downstream, there was a very long and thin tree trunk that gave us the opportunity to do a little bit of trampoline. We had quite a bit of fun there, but eventually, we got back on the road, and headed toward Crescent Lake.
As we were still rolling down the road, we got to a turn, and through the trees, the lake slowly started painting itself. It must have being the most crystal clear lake I had ever seen. In the deep, the water had a picture perfect dark blue, whereas as the water got shallower, it got paler, to turn to a transparent green, and on the very edge of the water, we could distinct a yellow perimeter. Of course, through my trip, I got to see even clearer lake and ponds, but the first one always has a little bit of magic to it. I got into my swimming gear, and ran to the dock, where I saw people diving, so without even looking, I jumped into the cold water. The first few seconds weren’t as pleasant as I would have thought, but once I started swimming; my body produced the heat necessary to make the water perfect. I took the moment to dive underwater, where I got once more surprise by its clearness; it was even purer than from the surface.
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| Crescent Lake |
After a few minutes in the water, diving at the dock, and simply relaxing on the beach, Max and I got back on the road again. We still had some time, but we wanted to get to Rialto Beach, which was quite a ways hitchhiking. We first bypassed the road, only to end up in Forks; and from there, two proud rednecks smoking weed while driving, while the driver’s 12 year old kid was in the back breathing the second hand smoke picked us up, and brought us back to the intersection. Two rides later, we were at the beach, and just in time since the Sun was on the very edge of the ocean. The sky was orange, the clouds coming from the south were pink on one side and dark grey on the other, and the neighbouring islands were contrasting the colourful sky with a pure black. All along the beach, huge sea logs from the nearing cedar forest were stacked one over the other, and on which we could climb to walk on as we would hear the small wave break off the small pebbles.
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| Rialto Beach |
Still being on the very start of my trip, neither Max nor I knew how to pay for camping. It turns out that you need to fill up a form, leaving money inside the envelop and take part of the form to tie it to your tent; it is all based on trust, but as I mentioned, we didn’t know that, so we just threw our tent on the beach. On the next day, I went for my first ever swim in the Pacific Ocean, and as I got back to pack my tent, two park rangers showed up. They weren’t too happy with the fact we hadn’t paid, but we explained the situation; I with the biggest French accent and Max with his Germen too look as touristy and confused as possible. Eventually, they let us go with just a warning.
As we were heading toward the Hoh Rainforest, we got picked up by a park ranger, who was going to work, and at the Hoh Rainforest. We both noticed he felt uncertain of his decision to pick us up, has he would try to avoid eye contact and talking. But, as the millage would pass, we started talking about the ecosystem, a subject most bad people wouldn’t talk about, and that he definitely enjoyed, and just like that, he lost his lack of trust in us, and became very nice. As we got to the park entrance, he told us he was going to make a presentation of bees at eight, in the camping amphitheater, and invited us to pay him a visit. He thought we wouldn’t come, after all why would two 21 year old guys waste their time learning about bees. Wed both agreed to go see him, but we could see on his look he didn’t believe us. Still having a full day in front of us, we decided to go for a long walk through the Jurassic looking forest. Between the spread out and out-scaled cedar tree, a carpet of disproportional ferns would cover the ground. Eventually, the trail would lead to the Hoh River, a gorgeous milky blue water coming down from the Olympic Mountain’s glaciers. Once we got back to the camp, we put up our tent, I went to the washroom as Max was rolling a joint, and on my way back, I saw our park ranger. Dressed with his beige rolled shorts, scout fest, and the typical ranger’s hat and mustache, butterfly net by his hand, he asked me with all the enthusiasms in the world if we going to show up. I looked at my watch, and told him I was going to go cook, and then come. I had enough time, but it was going to be a little short I don’t think he thought I was going to make it. I got back to our campground and where I started cooking my typical 85¢ instant rise, and took the first of 2 puffs of weed I took while in the States. Finally, despite being 3 minutes late, I got to the presentation, and has the park ranger spotted me in the stand, I noticed his smile grow bigger. He was very enthusiastic about the bees, and for him to see that two hitchhikers would want to share his passion made him that much more happy. It may be a small story, not worth very much, but for a while, it stayed one of my favorite. As hitchhikers, you end up using people’s generosity a lot, but you don’t get to give back, and so, when I can put a smile on someone’s face, or give a little bit of hope through the humanistic experience only hitchhiking can bring, I feel great.
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| Hoh Rainforest |
The next morning, we were the first one up, in the campground. I looked pretty bad since it was a dead end street, but we only had to wait 20 minutes before a first car passed by, and stopped. They were two Japonese from Seattle. They were heading back to Seattle, but didn’t have any plans on what to visit on their way back. Once more, I did, and so we got to visit Rudy Beach, the Big Cedar Tree (a stump of an out of proportion cedar tree), Quinault Lake, and finally, what we thought was the Mima Mounds (it turns out we were one street short of the actual park. Oh well!!). Once at the intersection of highway 5, Max stayed with the couple to head back in town, whereas I barely got out of the car before my first 18-wheeler of the trip pulled over. He was going to Portland, but I wanted to visit Mount-Ste-Helene. But when I got on the road heading there, I realised there was no traffic, and that it was a dirt road. I thought I might be better to skip it and head down to the next state.
PHOTOS
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| License Plate |
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| Space Needle - Seattle |
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| Max |
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| Giant Cedar Tree |
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| The Pacific |
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| Rialto Beach |
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| Rialto Beach |
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| Hoh Rainforest |
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| Hoh Rainforest |
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| Banana Slug (10inch) |
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| Max and I in a dead Cedar Tree |
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| Lake Quinault |
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| Mima Mound |
