[pct-l] Hitch-hiking traumas

[msaenz at mve-architects.com (Mike Saenz)]

OK, my hitch hiking story:

Back when I was a young lad of 17, my buddy and I planned a trip to hike from onion valley into the lakes beyond.
He picked me up at work on Friday at about 5pm (I always stored my gear in the back of his VW Squareback) and we headed off towards Independence.
Well we arrived in Independence around 10 or 11pm and started the grade up toward Kearsarge Pass. Well, the `Ol Squareback had more than it could take just getting us to Independence. The grade up the mountain took it's toll and just before we got to the pass, we blew a head gasket.
Blue smoke poured out the engine (and into the interior of the car) and we were forced to COAST back down the hill.
By the time the engine cooled down enough to stop smoking the oil it was hemorrhaging, the brakes (as you can imagine) took up the cause and we burned asbestos all the way down to the second campground off the road up from town.
We pulled in and slept there for the night and the next morning, coasted back into town (we coasted all the way into the gas station across the highway!). The guys in the station wouldn't let us park the car there, but and old lady who lived in town (a block back up the road) allowed us to park in her driveway. So we pushed the car into her drive and scratched our heads while we looked back up the valley.
We had the week off for our trip, so we decided, "what the heck?", we had enough cash for Greyhound tickets back home. So we started hiking across the valley floor paralleling the creek. We hiked for about 3 hours along a dirt road until we saw a dust cloud heading our way. An OLD pickup truck with a homemade, plywood cab-over camper shell, with three guys who, I swear, looked like the guys from ZZ Top (big, bearded and overalls) stopped and asked what the heck we were doing out in the middle of the desert. We told our story to that point and they offered to give us a ride to the foothills. "We're going hunting!" they grinned at us between chuggs from beer cans. My buddy and I just looked at each other and again, "what the heck?". "Climb on top" the ZZ Top guys said, so we climbed up on the roof of their hoemmade camper and hung on while we buzzed across the valley floor.
When the dirt road left the creek at the foothills, the ZZ Top guys asked if we wanted to stay with them, as they were heading further up into the hills (albeit in a southwesterly direction, away from the pass). We weren't feeling any luckier (or crazier) and the sight of being with these beer chugging, bearded `ol boys with loaded rifles off the rack and on their laps, made us decide to say goodby to our ride and we began to hoof it up the creek canyon.

To make a long story short and to the point, we had a grand time hiking through the canyon, in the creek at times and hauling our packs up waterfalls on ropes for a week, then hiking back (no ride through the valley floor this time) and finding we had just enough cash to get us to Downtown LA.
After a week in the bush, we were a sight to see and possessed a certain..."atmosphere" about us. We sat at the back of the bus and everybody else crowded up in the front seats...

Made it back to LA and had to PANHANDLE enough change for an RDT ride back home!

We got stared at by our neighbors as we hiked from the last bus stop through the neighborhood back to my house.
My mom and dad were amazed, amused and perhaps a little proud that their boy managed to have fun and get himself back home alive after hearing our account of the past week...from the far side of a large room. I was happy to shuck clothes and jump in the shower. My dad had to bear the atmosphere" driving my buddy back to his home...

Ahhhh....youthful adventures....

My buddy and his brother had to drive back in a truck with hitch to retrieve the squareback the next week.


M i c h a e l   S a e n z
McLarand Vasquez Emsiek & Partners, Inc.
A r c h i t e c t u r e    P l a n n i n g    I n t e r i o r s
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 -----Original Message-----
From: 	David Frederck [mailto:mt2mt@sbcglobal.net] 
Sent:	Thursday, March 04, 2004 11:21 AM
To:	pct-l@mailman.backcountry.net
Subject:	[pct-l] Hitch-hiking traumas

Redwood and Dwane,
Funny!
Reminded me of a time hiking JMT wishing to avoid
Bear Ridge, hitched from VVR to Florence Lake.
After hours of luckless waiting I desperately took
a ride from a man who was chugging beers at an
alarming rate, tossing empty cans from the window,
then stopping mid road, every five miles to pee. At
each stop I considered jumping from the car, but hung
on. Anyone who knows that road will know how what I
mean. Got through
it alive, and it makes an amusing memory...

David
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