July 26 2023

I was pulling myself out of a dark spell, but the darkness was still pulling me down. A friend of mine came over from Vancouver and stayed for a couple of nights before I left for Portland to see Hulder, and visit the grave of an old boyfriend.  We met up with another friend and did a little city tour and a hike up Mount Douglas, which was really awesome, and I hadn’t been up there for 10 or so years..

It was a bit of a scramble getting ready. I seem to stress myself out for no reason all of the time.  Well, a lot of the time anyway.

I got to the ferry terminal and had a really funny interaction with the Border guard:

Border guy: What’s the purpose of your trip?
Me: Going to see a concert.
Bg: What kind of concert?
Me: Metal.
Bg (looks at me): Like heavy heavy metal?
Me: Uh.. ya.

I arrived at the hostel at night after wandering around the waterfront for a while watching the sunset radiate through translucent patterns of clouds that disappeared into the horizon.

There was a bright-eyed, strawberry blonde-haired dude beating on a drum so loud that I heard it many blocks away, and usually I'm not super into White people playing African drums, but I was completely smitten by his enthusiasm and energy and gave him some bills.

I got to the hostel and was expecting a raucous room with a bunch of people in it, but there were only four of us - and everyone was very chill, quiet, and friendly. There was a young man there from Korea, and his name was Moon. He had kind and calm energy, and as he laid on his upper bunk on one side of the room, I laid on my lower bunk and put my headphones in and zoned out for a while, feeling very safe and peaceful.

One of the other guys mentioned that he lived in Portland and was driving there the next day, but I felt too shy to ask him if I could get a ride

The next day, when I ended up standing on the side of the highway in a bodunk town in the middle of nowhere with a sign in my hand hitchhiking, I was wishing I had just gotten over myself and asked him.

How the fuck did I end up there, and why was I hitchhiking again? No one hitchhikes anymore.

And it turns out that a friend of mine was at a show in Tacoma, and if I had let her know that I was going to Portland I could have met her there and we could have gone together. Fuck. I often assume everyone in my life is too busy or wouldn't want to hang out with me.. it's a really silly thing that I don't reach out to people more, and that I keep myself so isolated. It's been going on for so fucking long..

This trip was very poorly organized, and the bus I wanted to take was full, and then the later ones were three times the cost had I booked them in advance.. so I was like fuck it, why don't I just hitchhike? it's not that far. So I checked out hitchwiki and found a decent spot that was right in the city.

Before I left the hostel I had a breakdown in the bathroom and was crying like a toddler.. I had been feeling dark feelings building up within me for days, and it was only a matter of time before they shit their way out of my soul.

I cried some more when I was walking down the street, and put my sunglasses on so people wouldn't see me.

I knew when I got to the hitch spot that it was going to be a rough go, but I was feeling strong and determined. I also felt sadness in my heart watching all of the people drive by, because they didn't look very happy, and the world is in a messy ass state right now. Though, to be fair, it probably always has been..

I became restless and had to pee, so I wandered up the road a little bit where there was a small homeless encampment. I saw a sign outside of it that was quite beautiful and inspired me further:

I decided not to pee out of respect for the people living there, and then I went back down to my hitch spot and dug my heels in until finally someone picked me up, after an hour and a half or more..

The guy was going to Tacoma, which was at least getting somewhere, and we had a pretty decent chat on the way. It's always interesting to end up in someone's car, and often have them baring their souls. 

Near the end of the trip he looked over at me and said that he would take me to the perfect spot, and he smiled in a way that I suddenly felt very nervous about. Looking at his clean, rectangular, unnaturally perfect teeth, and his eyes that seemed kind but maybe not sincere in some way, I begin to concoct stories in my brain about him being a superficially affable yet sociopathic serial killer in the vein of Ted Bundy who was now going to be taking me to some remote location and then proceed to try and do terrible things to me. I gazed at him peripherally, and his face began to take on the qualities of an artistic collaboration between Ralph Steadman and H.R. Giger.

I coyly dug into my bag, and had my bear spray in my pocket in case anything happened.

We drove out of the way into the outskirts of town and! actually he was taking me to the most perfect hitchhike spot with a.. hi how's it going good are you going to Portland? Okay do you mind if I take a picture of your license plate and...

That was a voice to text when someone came to pick me up at my next location while I was dictating what had happened up until that point like some modern day wannabe Hunter S. Thompson with a vagina and a smart phone*.

This might be a good time to talk about safety while hitchhiking. If ever a single man picks me up I ask him if it's okay if I take a picture of his license plate, and then I send it to a friend.  His response will usually give an indication as to whether or not it's safe to take a ride from him. It’s okay to refuse a ride.

Sometimes I forget to get the license plate, and then I have bear spray in my smaller back pack, which I always keep up front with me.

I’ve had people scream at me from vehicles as they pass me by saying things like oh my god girl you're crazy, what are you doing out on the road?? and stuff like that about how dangerous hitchhiking is, but actually: these days it's a lot more safe than it was when hitchhiking had it's heydays, thanks to technology.

Anyway, I got dropped off in Tacoma at the best spot ever and got picked up 5 minutes later by a guy with a giant Knights Templar tattoo on his left arm.  He was a social worker with at-risk youth, and him and his daughters hunt with cross bows.  He gave me a zucchini from his garden, and he drove me out of his way to another decent spot; but it was a small town, and I didn't see any friendly faces.  Finally, after another hour and a half, with the high afternoon sun beating down on my face, a dude in a beat up white minivan picked me up. 

He had two dogs behind a cage barking madly in the back, and had interspersed faded tattoos all over his arms, and some interesting looking scars.  He had a tensor bandage around his left foot, and rugged angular features with deep set bright blue eyes.  I asked him if it was his hometown and he said "no way, I'm a transplant" and he said that he had come there to settle down with a woman, but after 5 years he realized that she had no interest in a serious relationship with him.  Then he told me how shitty the town I was hitching from was, and how there are a lot of David Duke fans there, and that “they're all fucked”.  Then he complained about the American school system and how people are brainwashed in to believing that Custer was a hero.  He was my kind of person, and I was sad that he had his heartbroken.

He also talked about how everyone thinks he's a druggie cause he has no teeth, but he's only ever done one line of coke in his whole life.  Then he started talking about how he got beat up in jail and spent 30 days in solitary confinement.. I honestly would have loved to hear his whole life story for another 5 hours, and the dogs were actually very sweet - just super barky.  And I was so curious about what bands he listened to when he was younger, and what shows he’s seen live..

He got so riled up talking about politics and shitty right wing Americans that he missed the exit that he wanted to take, and he ended up dropping me off at a highway entrance at the edge of nowhere. There was a big truck stop near by and lots of room to pull over, and I ended up getting a ride all the way to Portland with an Iraq 2 war vet.  Right away the guy started talking about nuclear energy and how it's the best path forward for humanity, and before I responded I asked him if he was able to have political conversations without getting personally offended, and he said that he was; and he was true to his word, as we disagreed on nearly everything, yet had a very amicable discussion, and he took me to the front door of the hostel I was staying at and told me that he enjoyed our conversation... 

The guest house is fucking rad! After arriving I had tofu fries with peanut butter and carrots sticks, and lavender Kombucha that was on tap.

I was so anxious in the morning and processing some heavy as fuck feels, and I really wasn't sure if hitting the road was the best thing to do, but in this case: it was.  Forcing myself to be aware and grounded, and face the world as I stood before the scrutinizing gaze of hundreds of cars, broke me out of my self-flagellating mind swirls. 

And even though this was one of my most challenging hitchhiking experiences as far as waiting so f-ing long, it was one of my best, cause I slid right back into my vagabond shoes, and was more comfortable than ever.  I used to overcompensate for my nervous feelings by being extra outgoing and friendly, but this time I was way more relaxed and not putting out as much energy.  I knew a ride would come eventually..

I also found a small patch of forest, and spent some time hanging out with a huge ass fir tree in that sheisty little David Duke town.

I’m finding my wild spirit again..


* I have a smart phone that I use every once in a while (like if I travel alone), though I mostly use a flip phone. I feel the need to say this cause I’m not a fan of cell phone culture!