The Sabre of Destiny

Planning details is not, shall we say, one of my strengths. Nor is it one of Jonathan's. So, I suppose it shouldn't have been surprising that we forgot to buy bus tickets in advance.

We arrived in Auckland at 5am with a lovely place to land, a friend who gave us a bed to sleep in and an ample supply of coffee to revive us from our flight. We had intended to wake up refreshed the next morning to start our journey to Cape Reinga and the start of the trail. But of course, when we got online to buy tickets everything was sold out. 

Basically we had a choice: wait another day (2 actually) in Auckland or hitchhike the 6 hours north to Cape Reinga at the tip of the north island. And since we're responsible, cautious travelers... we naturally decided to hitch.

36 hours, 2 bus rides, and 11 hitches later, we found ourselves at the start of Te Araroa. These are just a few of our first impressions of New Zealand.

The first hitch -- when you haven't done it in a while -- always feels a bit ridiculous. Standing on the side of the road with a stupid grin and a thumbs up. But after the first ride you get into the spirit and feel (slightly) less silly. 

Holding out the Sabre of Destiny

photo/ Jonathan

One of the best parts of hitching is getting to meet a huge array of people. We got rides in trucks chock full of dirty work gear, a rental hybrid, and even, wait for it... a police car.  (No mom, I didn't get arrested).

photo/ Molly

We found a giant "pineapple" after being dropped off by the police officer. 

photo/ Molly

Not only did we learn that NZ police generally don't carry guns, but when a cop car rolled up on us hitching, we most certainly assumed we would get some sort of talking to. But hitching is legal here and the cop, Simon, asked where we we're headed and gave us a ride to the next town. Imagine that! 

We also noticed right away that there are tons of people here from abroad. We ran into a guy from Pakistan, a woman from Ireland, a South African, and a German in addition to getting rides from several Kiwis.

An RV hitch we got on day three of the hike. RV hitches are a coveted and high class hitch. 

photo/ Jonathan

And there were definitely some patterns in our conversations. Kiwis, born here or not, *love* their country. Not in an in-your-face way, like Americans, but in a rather endearing, quiet way. All of our drivers told us about what an amazing time we'd have in their country and how friendly the people here are. Funnily enough though, every single one of them warned us that "You might meet some bad folks, so [insert advice for how we should protect ourselves]."

I don't think an American has ever said this me. I think Americans just assume that we're all assholes, so we don't generally warn against the one bad dude someone might meet.

The funniest repeat conversation was that two drivers told us that we were near the town that won the "best toilet in New Zealand" award and were assured that this was a real thing. And sure enough, the NZ Herald reported that Wairoru won "Best Loo" and "flushed away the competiton."

Nearly everyone also proudly pointed out sections of native bush (forest). It's pretty rare for Americans to have any idea of what's native to their area or not, but Kiwis are incredibly aware of this due to massive problems with habitat loss and invasive species. I'll write another post about this issue specifically. Meanwhile, look for another post coming soon about 90 mile beach and our first foray in the native bush in Ratea forest.

Cheers,

Molly

Hitchiking

Hitchhiking is one of those aspects of trail life that non-hikers tend to find shocking. The first question people ask when they hear about the trail ("You walked how far?!") is often followed by "How did you get food and supplies?" My explanation to is that we hitch into the small towns near the trail to buy food. This invariably elicits interestings reactions.

"What do you mean hitching? Like hitchhiking?" they say, wide eyed.

The logistics of getting a hitch are pretty much the same as they've always been. Stand on the side of a road with your thumb out and hope that some kind soul will stop to pick you up. This is the most common form of soliciting a hitch, at least. Getting a hitch can be about much more than simply sticking your thumb out. When I talk about hitchhiking I am referring to the general act of getting a ride from a stranger. This can happen in so many more ways than my pre-trail self could have imagined: sometimes you find yourself in a parking lot, and you just have to approach a stranger or two and ask for a ride. Other times you have to divide and conquer; there are too many hikers to fit in one normal-sized vehicle. There are even times where you have to do, well, nothing. On these rare occasions rides were solicited to us, which is an incredible experience.

From the day we landed in Southern California until we returned to our hometown of St. Louis, I hitched 43 rides. They varied greatly in quality and novelty, but every one of them was a blessing. Of those 43 times, only once did I ever feel remotely unsafe, and it was due to the driver's carelessness, not because I ever felt I would be harmed.

Before the PCT I had never hitched a ride. I had never ridden in the back of a pickup truck. I had never done a lot of things that I have now done. Sure, I was a little nervous. Mostly, I think the nerves were caused by fear of continual rejection by passing cars. I never really worried about my personal safety or uncomfortable situations. Or at least I accepted it as an inherent risk. Then again, I'm a 6' tall white male who tends to be a bit callous with things like safety, so that might have something to do with it. As for my nerves, they were immediately put to rest after our very first hitch came completely without solicitation. A nice couple saw us walking through San Diego and stopped to see if we needed a ride. HOW CRAZY IS THAT? I would soon find out that this was only the tip of the iceberg.

In case you are still worried, let's see if perspective and clarity don’t put you more at ease. When you go through towns on or near the trail, most people know about the Pacific Crest Trail. When those people see us with our dirty clothes and backpacks, they usually know we're hikers. There really is a community around this trail that looks out for hikers. We are all strangers, but we are strangers within a hiking community.

Beyond that, you have to be willing to let the unexpected happen. You have to let go of absolute control, go with the flow and leave some things up to chance. You are always going to hear stories on the news that someone was found dead in a ditch because some evil monster picked them up. But what about all the times where humans rise to the occasion and help each other out in little ways? These aren't news stories, they are random acts of human kindness. I bet if you look around you will find lots more of those acts than you do big scary stuff. I saw it happen day in and day out on trail; it was a beautiful thing.

Here are a few examples of what hitching on the PCT was like.

Best hitch: We got a hitch out of Bishop, CA from a 70 year old woman in her RV. She came into the cafe where we were sitting and offered my crew a ride. She even offered us some cold Bud Light Limes for the ride back to trail. This woman embodied the spirit of adventure.

We sometimes joked about the most epic hitches imaginable. Firetruck hitch was always at the top of our list. We never got one, but a few hiker trash friends of ours did get a hitch in the bucket of a front loading tractor. We were jealous, to say the least.

Worst hitch: Being shoved three-deep in the back of a car with all our gear and a dog on our laps, winding down mountain roads with a driver who was less than concerned about staying on the right side of the road. The guys that gave us a ride were quite kind, but their driving was less than stellar. As noted earlier, this was the one and only time I ever felt the least bit uncomfortable in a stranger's car.

Weirdest character who gave us a hitch: This super right-wing guy who told us the national economy was on the brink of collapse explained that precious metals were the only thing that were going to be worth a damn. He then preceded to show us a minted silver coin that he happened to carry around in his pocket.

A word of politeness to those who choose solicit their own hitches: if possible, it's best to offer a few dollars in gas money to those that give you a hitch. Ya know, because paying it forward, being a good person and all that jazz. Screw karma, it's just the right thing to do.

One last detail that eluded me before the trail: Oftentimes when someone gives you a hitch, they load you up, drive off, start chatting and roll up the windows. Make sure they don't do this last part! This kind, unassuming person obviously doesn't realize you smell TERRIBLE and should be warned before enclosing themselves in a small, mostly airtight capsule with filthy hiker trash. I didn’t even want to be enclosed in a vehicle with my own smell. I can't imagine how bad it must be for 'normal folk' to have to smell us.

Cheers,

Jonathan

Dan (Soapbox) trying to hitch out of Chester, CA.

Myself and Half'n'Half trying to walk and hitch a ride in Big Bear City, CA

Dan hitching in the back of a pickup to Kennedy Meadows Resort in central California. We had to ride with the gate down because the bed was so full.

Frizzle riding in the bed of a pickup on our way back to trail from Trout Lake, WA

Half'n'Half, myself, Quinoa and Choop hitching back up to Tuolomne Meadows from Yosemite Valley.