First Hike - On the Road Again ch 1

First Hike

So I set off. I walked past my broken down car on the overpass bridge, pack on my back, and waved goodbye to the hitchers on the on-ramp. I wasn't waiting anymore, I'd walk to the next town.

As soon as I hit the highway, I saw the sign. San Francisco: 200 miles. Alright then, 200 miles it was to reach my road dog, my Danny. I'd been waiting three long months for him to get out of jail. Then one day in Nevada the call came. He was out and he wanted his stuff. He was out and I wanted him here. I got him a plane ticket to San Francisco and made my own way there.

I'd passed San Francisco out of intrigue in my current roadie. She needed to be in Garberville and I took her there. Fatal mistake, The Turtle Shell began her slow descent going over the Rockies and by the time she was in North Cali, she sputtered her last breath. So I would have to hitch back south to the airport to meet my love.

200 miles and I walked eight. I saw the next exit, but it looked dead. I kept walking. The first thing I cursed was my shoes. They were cool, alright. Vintage Kangaroo Platforms, but these shoes were not made for walking. My foot slid off the platform heel, making me stumble more than once.

Then it was my heavy packing. Of course I needed two changes of clothes, sweaters, a sleeping bag, my beading kit, my guitar, my messenger bag, my art kit, my journal, a pillow, and a small collection of books. 200 miles and two days was a long way to go. My back shot with pain so frequent I found myself resting at every metal shoulder, leaning my pack on the post and raising my thumb.

I started in the early afternoon. Eight miles later, an aching back, twisted ankles, and a hopeless demeanor, the sun was beginning to set. I pressed on in hopes of finding a copse of trees to sleep in. At this rate, I might reach the airport next Saturday.

Suddenly, a car full of people stopped ahead of me, the windows rolled down as shouts and arms emerged from the car. A ride! As soon as I got in, I was scolded for walking on the highway, how dangerous it was. Cops, not cars. I was lucky I wasn't in jail, considering I'd been walking for hours. The car was full of hippie kids and they admitted they were headed up a mountain where they had work on a pot farm. The Holy Grail of Northern California. I explained it was my first time hitching, about my car breaking down and my need to reach my road dog as soon as his plane landed. They understood my rookie mistakes and continued to crank up the Led Zeppelin. Stairway to Heaven was on, and the car fell into a hush.

I fell asleep and was awoken in Ukiah. I was told this wasn't a very safe town for a girl hitching alone but this was the closest they could take me to Frisco. I thanked them for the long ride, not believing my luck at the length of my first hitch, and departed.

It was only after they drove away that I realized my sister's blue bandanna, a token she wore frequently throughout her short life and I proudly donned daily over my three dreadlocks, was no longer on my head. I wanted to run after the hippies screaming "Wait! Stop! My sister!" But they were gone. It was gone.

It was gone and the words reverberated through my mind just as the words echoed when I heard she was gone. The pain and loss I felt when I heard them through the phone on that fateful morning was renewed, my father's strangled voice, the scream that bubbled out of my throat at 6 AM threatened to issue again in the artificial light of the empty gas station as the car full of hippies sped away. It was gone, my sister's signature article, the one I said I would wear throughout my travels was no longer in my possession and I was as powerless against its loss as I was powerless against her loss. I swore against my helplessness, my swollen ankles, and my pathetic excuses for running shoes.

I hid behind the gas station and cried. I was so tired. Exhausted. My feet hurt. This was so hard. My car, safety, miles behind me. Uncertainty ahead of me. My knees ached, my back screamed. I gripped my purse, my sister's purse, and knew this was something I could never let out of my sight. My last piece of her. I would take her everywhere, I promised. As I sobbed my frustration, it just grew more unbearable. How could I do this? I was so small. Two hundred miles. Three thousand miles of a grand expanse of country and I was just such a puny person.