Hitchhiking USA & Europe: Chap 7 (Utah)

---October 28th 2013---

From Heaven to Hell

Once every one got up, Candy, her friends and I left for Moab. The main goal was to go rock climbing, but other things were on the list.

Our first destination was the ghost town of Cisco. It was quite an odd ghost town. When you imagine them, other than the broken house, there is usually not much, nut in Cisco, it seemed like alien had just took people leaving everything behind. The cars were still there, letters, tables, sofas, DVDs, etc. I can understand why you leave your house behind, but why leave everything behind? And why is it that it is not just one house? It was a very odd thing to explore, but great for photography.

The ghost town of Cisco

Then, we headed down through Castle Valley. I had being in the desert for quite some time at this point, but Castle Valley was my first step into the typical Farwest looking landscape. From the bottom of the canyon, we could see mesas taking off into the sky, with the usually associated 45° crumbly rock slop at the bottom. It was exactly what you see on television, and in comic books.

Castle Valley

Once in Moab, we looked around for a good wall. It needed to be a wall hard enough to fun for the experienced climber, but easy enough for me. The first climber climbed and installed the rope, then went to second one. I was at the bottom, as nervous as nervous can be. I had never climbed that high, and never had a harness. And before I knew it, it was my turn. Put on the gears, and got to the bottom of the near 90° wall. Looked up, took a hard breath, grabbed a first rock, put my first foot on another, and pushed myself up to grab another rock. I was now about two feet of the ground, still nervous, but no yet because of the height. The wall they had chosen had to harder section: the very beginning and the very end. I tried a few time to go over the first lip, but could figure out how. That being said, I was still a little too scared to go for the hold with full confidence, so I couldn’t reach it. After three-four attempts, I lost my grip and fell, immediately being caught by the harness. That was exactly what I needed; I saw how fast the guy who was holding the safety rope would catch me. I now knew that if I were to fall, there wouldn’t be any danger. I tried again, and within another three-four tries, I got over the first lip. I climbed and climbed, eventually stopping, but not for a rest, but just to enjoy the scenery, only to keep on going. Despite having a small challenge right at the beginning, the main one was the last step. Using a very uncomfortable hold, I had to fully jump from my stand point, and grab with my toes the top of the small overhang. A little nervous, it took some time before I crew the courage to go for the jump. There it was the on the top of the wall, a great view of the Green River, and of my tiny friends down below. There was one last thing to do, turn my back against the drop, and slowly let myself fall back. It must of being the scariest thing of the whole rock climbing experience. After the last person went for the wall, I got a second chance at it, and the wall had suddenly became much easier.

Rock Climbing

After having spent all afternoon at the wall, it was time to head to Arches Natl Park. I had my park pass to get everyone in my car enter for free, but being two cars, the other half of our group would need to pay. We asked if it was possible to have both cars for free, if in exchange, we were to use only one car in the park. The ranger told us that there was no problem, and that carpooling was highly recommended in national parks. That was something I was going to use to my advantage next time I was going to be kicked out of a park, but we’ll get to that. We drove to the trailhead of the most famous arch of the park; the Delicate Arch. With its 65 feet, I got to say it didn’t look as delicate as the name suggests.

All as excited as the other, we couldn’t help but run to the arch. Boy was the arch impressive. It reminded me why I love travelling so much. When you see pictures of a monument, you never get the scale or the landscape around them. Actually, most pictures are meant to focus your eye only on one feature. But when I saw how big the arch was, I just stopped in awes. I couldn’t believe the scale, but also the rock formation on which the towering arch was standing on. Adding to this the slowly fading Sun, and all the friends around, and you got yourself a perfect moment.

Looking at sunset has a price when you are a hitchhiker; its name is darkness. As we drove out of the park, I asked my friends to drop in front of the sand dune right across the entrance of the park. Not to grab anyone’s attention, I climb the sandy crumbly hill, and once at the top, I took my flashlight out. No luck, the batteries were dead. I guess I’ll have to build it clandestine like. Once up, I climbed in and went to bed. It was still early, but without flashlight, there isn’t much to do.

Delicate Arch

At first, it seemed like a good place. The tent was leveled, and the sand rapidly took my shape. Unfortunately, sand only takes your first shape, then, you are always stuck with dumps here and there poking you all night long. For once though, it wasn’t the bad part of my night. I may have being hidden from the main road, but I wasn’t hidden from the loud and noisy trucks passing all night long on the route right below. Furthermore, placing my tent right next to a railroad, which I had not seen, wasn’t so great either. As I mentioned earlier, when 18-wheeler pass by, the ground begins to shake, so needless to say that when a train passes by, you feel like an earthquake is about to happen. Add this with the even loud honk and the blinding headlights, and you got yourself the perfect nightmare. And the worst was that neither the discomfort of the sandy bump pocking your spine, nor the truck, nor the train were the worst of that sleepless night. The wind took over that job. The more I’ve encountered the power of the wind, the more I realised that wind is hitchhiker’s nightmare; at least is they are solo. Just as I fell asleep, a massif blow from the wind caught the floor of my tent, lifting it fully; at least if it weren’t from me. Everything that wasn’t in my bag started to flying all over my tent. Thankfully, the wind came by 10 minutes blows. So between every blow, I could build protection. I kept on getting outside and pilled the sand to prevent the wind from getting under my tent, but it was no use. The sand in front of my tent would easily be blown away, and, being in soft earth, the picks holding my little house couldn’t keep up with the fast blowing air flow. All night long, I needed to rearrange my set-up, denying me the opportunity to close my eyes and rest. To make things worse, I felt home sick. After having spent three days hanging out with Candy and her friends, I felt at home, back with my friends and secure, but now, I was alone, no one to help me, and very vulnerable. I may not have teared, but I definitely felt like I was going to burst into tears. Right after Heaven, I got to Hell; and within two hours. The night was long, very long. I couldn’t even leave my tent to go pee. I had to dig a hole just on the edge of my tent and pee in it, so that my weight would keep it from getting cut in the wind and parachute away.

But all good things come to an end. In this case, the good thing was pretty bad. Very early in the day, before sunrise, I managed to fall asleep, and when I woke up, I could hear that the wind had slowed down. I jumped on the opportunity and unpacked everything in a flash. I felt amazing. From that point on, the wind wasn’t a problem. Well at least until the Faroe Island where it got much worst. But that is for later.

A Haunting Injury

After one of my worst night, I got back to the park. Suddenly, a van with six Japanese ladies pulled over. Most of them spoke English, but the oldest one, couldn’t speak a word. They only had one day to visit the area before heading back to Japan, so they had two things in mind; go see the Double-O Arch, and visiting Island in the Sky, in Canyonland. Knowing I was going to stay in the area for a few days, I decided to rush through Arches Natl Park, to visit Island in the Sky, only to finish my visit on the next day.

When we got to Landscape Arch, a thin arch about a football field long, we started trekking toward the Double-O. The five younger ladies, walked at their paste, leaving the older one (73 years old) alone. I didn’t like leaving her behind, especially since I thought it was a pretty difficult hike for her age. I started to walk by her side. I would talk to her in English and she would respond in Japanese. Where we talking about the same thing; probably not, but at least, there is a conversation, it is not just a long awkward silence.

Landscape Arch

After a small snack under another arch from the trail, we kept on going. Only this time, the trail was getting harder and harder. I would just follow, and help them in rougher passage. Eventually, we got to a passage which was much too hard for any of them to climb. For me, it was no problem, all I had to do, is jump and I could hop on the rock blocking our way. Seeing how disappointed they were not to be able to keep on going, I decided to transform into a stair. I lay on my knees, with both hands on the ground, and told the ladies to use my back as a step to climb the rock. I could have used only my knee as a step, but I thought that my back had bigger surface, so they didn’t have to keep their balance. As the trail would keep on going, the obstacles would increase in number. I did my best to keep our little expedition going, but eventually, everyone realised it was madness, especially with a 73 year old lady. I still wanted to see the arch, but I could finish the hike on the next day.

To finish our day, we went to Canyonland visited the park for a little while, and enjoyed the Sun saying it final goodbyes. And this time, rather than trying to hide for yet another horrible night, I decided to head for a campground.

Canyonland

The next morning, I headed for the Needles entrance of Canyonland. I hung out there for a day, camping in the park overnight. The sky was perfectly free of cloud, so I lay down on the grass and stared at the stars for a few hours before hitting dreamland. The next morning, there wasn’t anybody in the park, or at least leaving the park. I tried to hitchhike, but all I got was a warning from a park ranger kicking me out of another park. I was asked to walk out of the park. There was one little problem he narrow way of looking at law; the park limits were in the middle of the desert, far from everything. In fact, it took me half an hour before I got out of the park, and from there, it took me one hour and a half to get to a point where people don’t look at you thinking why you are in such a remote area. Also, being in the morning, the traffic heading out of the park was very low. It took me a full hour before I could see a single car, and two to be picked up.

1h before seeing a single car

At my third entry in Arches, I got pulled over by a ranger. He told me the usual: “You know it’s illegal to hitchhike in national park”, and I answered with the usual: “Sorry sir, I didn’t know. I’ve being travelling for just about two month, from park to park and never got that warning. I thought it was legal.” Only this time, I added: “But, in all the national park I’ve being in, there is always a sign saying how pollution is affecting the ecosystem of the park. Furthermore, yesterday, some friends I met earlier this week and I came using to cars, and the lady at the entranced had told us that you highly recommend carpooling. Technically, hitchhiking is a sort of carpooling, just a little less organised.”

He looked at me seeing that I had a point, and responded with: “You know, the problem is not that we don’t like hitchhikers. The problem is that when someone driver in a park, he usually looks at the landscape more than the road. Having a random guy standing on the side of the road could lead to some accident. And we for sure don’t want that.” I two knew he had a point, but kept on listening. “On the other hand, if you truly want to visit the park, you can do one of two things. Hitchhike on the outside of the park, and ask for a ride in and out from the same person or you can go from parking lot to parking lot. But if you go from parking lot to parking lot, you cannot lift your thumb, you need to talk to people until one accepts to give you a ride.” There it was, I finally knew how to hitchhike in national park, and this time legally.

I don’t like talking to stranger out of the blue and even less to ask them for rides, but since I have no choice, that is what I’ll do. I got a first ride the one of the trailhead. And after its exploration, I asked someone else, and as he answered, I recognised the typical French accent only a Quebecer could have. He drove me to my next destination, and there again, a guy from Quebec, and so was my third ride. To that point, I had not being picked up by any Quebecers, not that I haven’t seen any on the road, and just like that, I get three in a row. It was also the first time since I had left where I could talk in French, other than the two phone calls I had with my parents.

After a few stops at different arches and other formations, I finally got back the trailhead of the Devil’s Garden, heading toward the Double-O Arch. There was in the far back of the sky a massif dark grey cloud slowly eating the otherwise cloudless blue sky of the desert. I started walking and soon got to the farthest point we had walk the day before. Not long after, I reached the arch. It was a pretty nice looking arch, but not the best of the park. That being said, the trail on its own was worth it. Using the typical traveller’s philosophy, never take the same road twice, I decided to gamble against the weather and take the long way back. The more I would walk, the harder it was to follow the trail. In a forest, the trails are easy to follow; all you have to do is step where there is no vegetation. In the desert, it’s a little harder. You need to spot the mark. Usually, they are roughly close to one another, but sometime, they can be quite far. It is fairly easy to miss one, and as you can imagine, I eventually lost track of the marks. The rock formation around me created a maze of vertical walls blocking me into a dead end. Seeing the mean cloud eating more and more of my blue sky, I decided to reach for higher ground to have a better view of where the trail was. Out of all the wall looking formation, one was starting from the ground. I climbed on it and looked around, to see that the trail was directly under me. I looked around, and say that the other rocks were completely blocking me, unless I was to go for a big detour of course. Another thing about the deserts, is that despite not raining a whole lot, when a rainy clouds rolls in, it is very intimidated. Everything changes color for a darkened world. Adding the endless sky being devoured by a massif cloud, that contrast the bright blue sky, and you have the meanest looking weather you could think of. I was starting to feel the pressure build up, so I decided to jump off of my rock. I started unclimbing the dome shape wall to the point where I would slip, threw my bag, and faced the drop. It seemed like a 15 foot drop, nothing I have never jumped off, but it was hard to gage due to the curved rock blocking my view of my landing. I took a deep breath, and started sliding to finish in a jump. I had miss-gaged the height. It wasn’t 15 foot, but only 10, with a counter-landing. Not ready to hit the ground, one of my knees didn’t bend, taking the full force of the hit, also putting a huge strain in my back, which had to compensate for my lack of absorption. I felt I had busted my knee, not broken, but not too far from it. But, still stuck alone in the middle of the desert with a storm coming, it wasn’t time to cry, but time to grab my 60lbs bag and find my way out. Thanks to adrenaline, I walked the rest of the trek without too much pain.

The labyrinth of walls preventing me from finding my way back on trail

Both legs shaking, I hitched a ride out of the park, and back to the camping. I found a lot with a small roof to protect me from the rain. I put up my tent, ate, read, and went to bed. Unfortunately, my mattress was deflated due that same hole I had when I started my trip. With my knee lying directly on top of cement, I didn’t get the chance to make anything better, if not worse.

The next morning, I had to make a huge decision; do I head back somewhere and take the time to let my knee get back in shape, or do I keep on going. I hesitated for quite a long time, especially knowing how close I was from Grand Junction, where I had so much fun. But ultimately, the adventure was calling. I didn’t want to take a year off from school, only to cure a bad knee, not reach my end destination, so I decided to keep on going. Destination Goblin Valley!

Usually, when I hitchhiked, I would walk backward, but due to my now weak knee, I needed to walk forward, turning only my upper body when I would hear a car. That two caused me some problem, as I stretched the muscle of the upper part of that same leg. Things were definitely, and would stay this way for a long time. Overall, it took me one and a half month to cure my leg.

There it is, I’m Scared

It may not seem like the worst story, but I have to say that it was the worst to go through. At least as rides goes.

The day after my injury, I took off heading toward Goblin Valley. Reaching I-70 wasn’t so bad, but once of the interstate, I had a bad vibe. I felt like getting rides was to be quite hard. The traffic was low, with fast moving cars, and it was illegal to stand where I was standing, making cops a real hazard. So when this ruined down car stopped, I had one thing in mind: get in! Between the many patches of rust, I could see the purple paint not glossing anymore. I opened the trashed bag covered door for the back seat, and squeezed my heavy bag between the tires and tools lying all over the place with absolutely no organization what so ever. And finally, I opened the door and sat in the front. From the inside, there was no door, only the outside part.

I asked the guy where he was heading and after telling me the exit, we took off. Despite a lack of smile on his face, I tried to get a conversation running. Eventually, seeing he would always answer my question with a closing one-liner (or one-worder), I started talking about why I was travelling through the United-States. I kept on saying how pretty the world was, and how it would be a shame not to take the time to explore it, but he would constantly tell me how he travelled all around the world, and how nothing is pretty. My sky may have being blue, but his was definite stormy dark gray cloud thundering through the night. The more he would talk, the more depressing it was. I started to feel a little insecure, and eventually, I even noticed that his knuckles were turning white. This told me one thing, he was squeezing his steering wheel with anger, and as he kept on complaining about his trashy looking world, I could see his eye not looking at the road, but at the pillar holding and overpass. Thinking he was actually thinking of committing suicide while I was aboard, I discretely tried to reach for the door handle, but there were none. I was locked inside a car with a guy who looked like he was going to kill the both of us.

I didn’t know what to do, or say. Everything I would say would make him more depressed, but every time I would stop talking, he would go back telling me how I should head back home sit down on my couch and let life waste by, also while getting more depressed and angrier. I started looking at the millage signs, hoping we were getting to destination. But then, what was bad got worst; he started asking me about my finance. I kept on telling him, I didn’t have much money, which wasn’t that true, and that was why I was hitchhiking, but he really wanted to know how much I had cash on me, how much liquid cash. I tried telling him I had nothing, but he knew I was lying, and push me to give him a number. The truth was that I had about $200 dollars in my bag, money my aunt gave me before I left, that I kept for emergency, plus a few in my pocket, but finally got him to believe I only had $20 and that invented how hard my last few days had being because of that lack of cash. I also mentioned I was going to find some work once in Salt Lake City. With my invented stories, he did believe me.

The millage sign were starting to be on my side as I could see five miles turn into two, then into half a mile, and there we are, the intersection separating us. I quickly reached for the handle and… Oh no! it not there. I turned toward the driver, and with his depressed look, he stared back. I opened my mouth and before I could say anything, he remembered to come open the door for me, from the outside.

Trunk N’ Treating

What a relief!! I’m finally out of the hellish car, but I not out of the wood (figuratively of course, I was in the desert). I was at the intersection of two low traffic roads going nowhere, there is not a house in sight, and the sagebrush makes throwing my tent near impossible. Plus, it Halloween, the last thing I want, is to be alone. I don’t have much food, and trick or treating could help me out.

The Sun was lowering itself in altitude as I was disparately trying to find a ride in near to no traffic ride. Thankfully, my watchful star gave me that last car of the day, and it was an amazing one.

They were heading slightly farther than Goblin Valley, but at the moment, I needed a place to stay, and I thought it might have been easier in Hanksville. As we were driving toward the tiny little town, located miles from anything, they invited me to hang around for Halloween. They told me there was a chilli contest at the local school. They invited me and I got free chilli all night long. Some of the chillies were normal tasting, but some other tasted like heaven. It was a great way to refill. A few candy for desert and a costume contest later, the trick or treating started.

Hanksville is a tiny ranch town far from any other town. Only a hand full of house are walking distance from one another, so trick or treating from house to house id unfeasible. To solve the problem, they decided to “trunk and treat”. All the farmers neighbouring the town decorate their cars and go to the church parking lot. There, they open their trunk and kids walk back and forth between cars, trying to collect as much candy as possible. Needless to say, that I used the kids of the family who picked me up as an excuse to trunk and treat myself.

After my “food” refill, I was invited to use the lawn of the family as a campground for the night. I definitely was an experience I never thought I would ever be a part of.

In the morning, as I was walking down the street, I could see decorated cars from the night before heading to work. It was a funny morning over. But unfortunately, being that remote meant the traffic were to be very low. In fact, I waited for just about four hours before I could see a car stop for me. He must have being the 7th or 8th car to use that road that day. There really was nobody. Knowing I would need to hitchhike once more if I wanted to reach Goblin Valley, and knowing I had a big millage ride, I decided, against my own heart, to skip Goblin Valley. Sometime, hitchhiking to an area seems too hard to even attempt it, but usually, the park at the receiving end isn’t worth it. Unfortunately, Goblin Valley wasn’t a regular park. It has to be the only destination I regretted not trying.

The ride I got helped me reach Dinosaur Natl Park and Fantasy Canyon in no time at all. As I was heading to Dinosaur Natl Park, I had one of those perfect rides. The guy who picked me up was incredibly impressed with my lifestyle. He wanted have as big of a glimpse as possible at what one of my day looked like. He didn’t to hitchhike with me, but at least wanted to see the kind of location I get to experience. His original plans of eating pizza in front of the TV quickly changes to visit Dinosaur and Fantasy Canyon. For Dinosaur Natl Park, it was a very normal park; well the park entrance I took with him, as the other entrance was extremely nice. But when we got back, I told him about Fantasy Canyon, and despite living just a few miles from the tiny protected area, he had never heard of it. As I was describing the odd rock formation of the park, he decided to make the detour and drive me there. Boy was I blessed with that ride, because it was by far the most remote park I had to find. Even with a driver, we had trouble reaching it. The park was completely lost between hundreds of small tiny road connecting hundreds of petroleum pumps. The scenic heading there was horrible, but the park was amazing. Out of the clay dunes, the oddest of rock formation decided to test the sculpting abilities of Mother Nature. The site is fully natural, yet, if you take the map with all the hidden sculpture, and you follow the indication, you will find a perfectly sculpted punching bear, or a howling coyote head, or a diving seal, or etc.… Sometime, luck isn’t on your side, but with that ride, luck was, and it got me to one of my most anticipated and remote location.

One of the sculptures of Fantasy Canyon

An Intimidating Greeting

As I was heading toward the state capital, I got picked up by a first: my first taxi. I told him I was hitchhiking and not calling the taxi, but he responded by: “I know. It’s just that I don’t see hitchhikers anymore, and I think it’s sad. So I wanted to know what made you decide of such a mode of transportation.” He was heading to the airport to get a friend of his. As we got closer to the Salt Lake City, he asked me where I was going to stay for the next few days. I told him I had a couchsurfing host inviting me over, but still didn’t know where she lived. He asked me for the number of my host and called her to see where the best place to drop me was. It turns out she lived not too far from the airport. Finally, before dropping me off, the taxi driver gave me one of his friends phone number in case I was going to San Diego.

I stayed two days in Salt Lake. I played with the kids, roller-skating on the street. And took a day of simply to relax and not do anything. Finally, I got back on the road. There was one last problem. I couldn’t find an easy way out. No bus, very long walk, and no safe entrance. I first tried a truck-stop near the highway, but eventually, the truck-stop kicked me out, saying hitchhiking was illegal. I had no more option, I had to go directly on the interstate and hope no cop would show up.

I waited four hours, very long hours. With massive traffic, I had to keep my arm up and same for my smile. One thing hitchhiking thought me is that keeping a smile up for four hours straight is very painful, and leaves massive cramps, not to mention the strain of my shoulder constantly holding the weight of my arm.

Despite having lost all hope of a kind gesture from someone from the region, I kept on trying, and eventually, a car pulled over. The driver, a guy my age, rushed out, took my bag, threw it in his trunk and told me to hurry up and get in the car. I got in, buckled my belt and lifted my head only to see a gun pointed to my face.

“Look, I hate hitchhikers, but I like helping other. Considering you don’t look that the typical hitchhikers, I will give you a chance. But know this, right now, by picking you up, I put my girlfriend at risk, and I don’t like that, so this gun is loaded and ready to be fired. I have all the right to shoot you if you do anything suspicious. Is that clear? If not, feel free to leave the car.”

What choice did I have? I didn’t want to be stuck here for another four hours, so I shook my head yes, and we left. The first part of the trip was a little nerve-racking, but once my camera was out and I was taking photos of the great salt flat, we started talking and the mood calmed down a little bit.

Crossing this strange landscape was indeed nice. For 81km, there wasn’t a single turn or bump. The road was straight as straight can be. And with the ever flat treeless surrounding, it felt like we weren’t moving at all. The only sights of motion were the orange line and the telephone poles passing by. Even the dark brown mountain in the distance didn’t seem to move.

PHOTOS