Prince George BC.
End: Vanderhoof BC.
A cold night will fall on us once more. Laying low in a ditch-like slope and hiding under a promising tree, Dirk and I will spend another night out in the open. The sound of cows in the distance, the creaking of branches over head. At least we made it this far, only 450+ miles to go.
Our morning started with another attack of the sprinklers. After brushing off the thought of preparing for these assassins of the nights, we both went to sleep thinking we were safe. Sleeping on a bed of rocks, I didn’t think we were going to have to worry. As 3:30 came around we woke up to the hissing of the sprinklers, jumping up and running behind the wall we yelled. Having experience now with late night water attacks, we booked it and saved our gear in record time. Both of us standing, dripping wet from were we got tagged by water, we just sat back down behind the dumpster wall and slept. Hiding our faces from the sun that began to rise, we caught a few more hours behind that pizza hut, waking up and splitting before anyone saw us.
We started walking, finding a WiFi zone and planning out our next move. The choices were to move west or north, both proving to be hard routes by thumb. Spending a good amount of time in subway, checking maps and talking with a few motorcyclists whome just came from Alaska, we didn’t realize we missed the only bus heading west. Once a day on weekends they told us. We were shocked.
Highway 16 is not the best road to hitchhike on, that’s what we have been told by everyone. Now looking at the western route to Prince Rupert, we needed to find a way to get there. Ideas were thrown about. Car rentals, train and even plane were all on the chopping block, anything to get us there. In order to catch the ferry that departs on Sunday at 7:45, we needed luck. No train or bus could get us there in time. If we did catch the bus in, an hour late it would arrive and we will have to sit around until Tuesday. Defeated, we walked to the south end of town to throw out the thumb.
Walking is not an option for me anymore. Knees shot and a large duffle bag on my back, I had a hard time getting anywhere. We sat at a gas station for some time when a friendly guy noticed our bags and offered us a ride to the end of town. The first spark of hope hit us both like a firecracker. We grabbed our bags and jumped in.
We found our selves at what we thought was a great part of town. A gas station on the end of town, last one for miles and was it busy. Dirk and I began asking people, left and right we were not bashful. After a while of no luck, I saw a piece of cardboard by the rubish bin. As soon as I picked it up, the gas station worker opened the door to hand me the biggest marker known to man. I smiled at her and went to work on my sign.”Prince Rupert $ for gas” it stated. Proud of my handy work, I grabbed my ipod and stood at the roadside, thumb out. Watching the cars fly by, I thought it was busy enough for someone to pick us up or at least be interested in the gas money. Tired from standing, I threw the sign over to Dirk and returned to our post at the station. We waited for a while, a common time frame I thought but mentally draining. As I looked up I heard a yell coming from a truck that slowed down as he exited the gas station. I looked down the road to where he was yelling to, it was Dirk. I grabbed the bags as Dirk ran to them. We were so glad to snag another ride, we didn’t care how far.
Two local guys who call them selves bushmen, cleared the clutter from their truck and let us in. Dirk grabbed the back seat and I sat up front with them. As the doors shut the truck pulled away and we were moving closer to our destination. Holding a little conversation, being that I could barely understand anything coming out of their mouths, the ride was good. A little sketchy if you were to see the amount of knives and chainsaws in the back, but I am alive and well to tell the story. As they were heading north on highway 27, at that junction we were let off.
Here we will spend our time trying to get another ride. Minutes turned to hours as hours stacked upon each other. Resorting to anyway to catch the drivers attentions, we jumped, danced and acted sad. The night fell after 5 straight hours, no luck.