Hitching to Pennsylvania

The road to Pennsylvania and the National Earth First! Rendezvous was interesting to say the least. I left West Yellowstone, MT four days before the Rondy was scheduled to begin. Got a ride from a trucker who took me all the way to Billings, MT, where it took more than 3 hours to catch a ride. She brought me 40 mi east but not before her car broke down twice on the freeway. Her car needed new fuel injectors. Two Native American families got me to just east of Buffalo, WY at a stop that was just a gas station and a pub. The first day of my journey was coming to a close, and my thoughts turned to where I was going to sleep in an area where there were no trees.

Then, two vehicles drove around from the back; the driver in the first was a guy with big glasses was flashing the peace sign and an even bigger grin. I asked him if they were headed east. "Sure are." Got room for one more? "Sure do." It was a hippie caravan of two vans, a small sedan, and about 15 hippies. The lead van was a big Ford with a raised roof and dimmed lights, complete with bed in back, flowers tied to the radio antenna, books and trinkets piled halfway up the windshield on the dash, musical instruments, and the overwhelming smell of hippie cabbage. They were all exhausted, and needed driving relief, so after 30 mins of asking other customers at the station for gas to help us get to our family (Rainbow) gathering in Tennessee, I took the wheel of the main van, and drove through the night to the sound of blasting music.

Half of the hippies were kids between the ages of 16 and 22; they were the usual too-lazy-to-do-anything-else type. The other half were extremely creative and intelligent, slightly older, most with college degrees, and most simply frustrated with every other way of living and hoping for something better. After we got to talking, they really tried to get me to come to the Rainbow Gathering with them. In turn, I tried to get the smart ones to come up to live alternatively but do something worthwhile in the environmental activism scene in PA. Then, the most interesting and most attractive girl in the bunch tried a compromise to get me to come to Tennessee and then halfway through the Rainbow, we would drive up to the Rondy. I was tempted because she was really someone special, but I felt that the Rondy held something more important to me than a whimsical crush.

Every time the hippies stopped, they got out and wandered, dehydrated, glazed eyes, spreading like films of smoke into whatever sheltered community they descended upon. We drove 24/7 but our pit stops could last anywhere from 20 min to 2 hrs. Once, we stopped in Des Moines, Iowa, asking for gas with our illegal, metal, 5-gallon, army surplus can. A kid rolls up to us on his moped bumming a cigarette. The same bloke in glasses and leather kilt that picked me up off the curb near Buffalo, WY raises a cigarette he just rolled in the air like a torch. "Right here, just rolled it. Got anything in exchange? We need a few dollars or some gas." "I don't have any money or gas... What else do you need?" "Well, we need a gas can. The one we got is illegal." "Actually, I have a few of those in the attic. That's worth more than a cigarette though. What else you got?" "Well," said the 15-year hitchiking guru, "I could probably get you stoned." A smile danced onto the kid's face, and after some deliberation, we piled into the cars, and drove a couple miles to the kid's parents' house.

Now, this house is in a cookie-cutter, plastic, suburban neighborhood that made the community in Edward Scissor-Hands look like a Rainbow Gathering. The shape, design, and paint of every house was immaculate and identical in every way. The front lawns are cut exactly the same without a fence to separate them, and the trees were all brand new. Then the hippie caravan led by this kid on his moped rolled up to one of the houses, and the topless, shoeless hippies flooded out onto the lawn. Three are under a tree drinking water and smoking joints, and one girl is doing hand stands on the grass. The kid goes into the house followed by two kids who had just packed the fattest bowl I'd ever seen. Moments later, kid's sister comes out and eyes handstand hippie with the most disgusted but curious look on her face, as if she'd never even heard of a hippie before. Used to causing this reaction in people, the hippies took her under their wing, calmed her down, and found small talk was easy as pie. Minutes later, seriously stoned sparky comes out asking if anyone needs water, which leads to flooding the garage water spigot, and then to brushing teeth in the sink just inside the house. After about two hours, people are finally ready to pile back into the vehicles and move on.

Then, Iowa lamb chop comes back out of his house holding a teal duffel, which he stuffs hurriedly into the lead van, saying, "Don't let my sister see this." This kid has never left his county before in his life. Then he tells his sister he's coming to help us with gas at the station, and jumps in the caravan bound for Tennessee. Completely bursting with bubbly energy in the back seat, he said "I've always wanted to get out of that fucking town!" I was so proud of the kid for taking the initiative to let life lead him around a bit rather than sloshing around trapped in the mud of the mundane. About 36 hours, one more passenger, and far too much marijuana later, I'm dropped off on a freeway headed north towards Pennsylvania never to hear from them again.

I got a ride up through Ohio from a really interesting woman just a year older than me who likes/trusts men with beards, and who seemed on the very precipice of breaking out of the chains of religion, social expectation, and tradition that can sometimes enslave the Midwestern, white, country woman. We drove through an intense storm of horizontal rainbands, green clouds, more than 5 flipped semis, and uprooted trees. Slept overnight just south of PA, then caught 8 or so really short rides that got me to where the Rondy was supposed to be. It was only after 17 miles of walking in an East Coast heat wave with a 65-lb pack that I made my way to the Rondy site only half a day late, and having lost almost 10 lbs of body weight from dehydration. I was only late because the directions were completely wrong, and after I had vacated my last ride, I was on foot till the end. The sight of that welcome tent was so sweet after such a struggle.