hitchhiking: a magazine

Hitchhiking: A Magazine

We had walked for a hundred metres with several large cars passing us by. Sasha had commented that no women had picked us up. That’s when Peggy stopped. She asked where we are going and we said, where are you going, and she said well I’m going home and you are not going there. When we told her we both lived together in Los Angeles she said, ha, that’s where I am from. Peggy grew up in San Fernando Valley. She made her way up to the island via boat and just could not leave, that was nine years ago. All her kids still live in LA cause there would not be jobs up here for them. She explained how she had learnt to calm down on the island. Then we came out over the bluff and she explained there are two large pods of whales circling the island today. Her husband drives a whaleboat and she maintains the pool to a hot eighty degrees at the Bluff Housing Estate. She dropped us off at Cattle Point, a small reserve just after the Light House and before the gate.

Dear Peggy, It’s been a month and ten or nine days since I got my period. You are the first woman to stop for us, I think. You have multiple children. You have given birth. There seem to be some kind of older nuns to our right, in a big family having a picnic, or Amish folk. There is a super pod of whales in the Sound today, J and K whales, you said? Some type of whale I’m guessing. We’re thinking about you now Peggy. I thought it was nice you had a bright red car and a ten-year-old pink Prada bag and two gas canisters in the back. When we first got in the car you had a stern tone. You said Put your seat belt on, please. Like you must have been a hard lined mother who kept the boundaries clear. And when we said we’ll go wherever you’re going I like how you said I’m going home, you’re not going there. You maintain a pool in a wealthy community for elderly people. And you said they like to think they’re doing aerobics in the pool, which you keep at a steady eighty-four degrees, but really it’s just their gossip hour. Your husband drives a whale watching boat on the island, and in October you two have time to play, that’s good to hear Peggy. You miss the shopping in Los Angeles. You love the gallerias of LA so much. Glendale Galleria, Beverly Center, Topanga Galleria. . .You miss the Seal Beach farmers market and the one in Glendale too. But your children are still there, with jobs, because there’s no work up here for them, only for you and your husband.

—

Peggy July 26, 2012 10 minute ride

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We were indecisive whether we were going to hitch. Then a Prius pulled up. She was leasing it. She seemed very weary of us when we did not know where we were going and did not seem to care. It was getting near the end of the day and Susan was going to pick up the kids at Dale Lake. She showed us what the lights on the dashboard could do. We pulled into a campground complex and snaked through the more wood lodge then wood lodge development spotting the general store and pulling up near a small bathing area on the lakeshore. Susan took care of the kids this morning then this afternoon they hung out with another mom. I commented that I love this summer fluidity of being a kid; moving round between dwellings and families and when hanging out means taking care of your selves.

A pixie lady. Small tan sporty, sweet. Young face. But mentioned she was going to meet her children who were at the lake. Couldn’t believe she’d given birth to two kids. She had a Prius on lease for two years. She used to be able to fit both her kids’ bikes in the back but now her boy’s bike is too big, they’ve grown so fast, she says. Incredible gadgetry in the dashboard. Three layers of digital screens that keep popping on for different information. Completely over-engineered and blow your mind futuristic. New fangled.

Susan July 26, 2012 5 minute ride

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After getting out of Susan’s Prius I was hyper aware of the hybrid sign on the back of Pep’s Honda. I looked in and noticed a dusty dash and an assemblage of snacks in the console between the driver and the passenger seat. Sasha asked if we should sit in the back and he said yes. I noticed he was wearing a fresh blue and white striped button up shirt and had a necktie looped around the mirror. When we crawled in I remember seeing a Bible on his dash. Pep had just picked up his friends from the ferry and dropped them off at Roche Harbour. He was eating a snack out of a plastic sandwich bag and he kept on covering his mouth to try and intercept small pieces that where flying out. When Pep told us he grew up in San Fernando Valley we said Really. Then Pep asked if we were interested in the environment and passed us a copy of Awake! I looked closer at the details in the car the blue and white button up shirt. The Bible on the dash and a copy of Watchtower tucked into the seat pocket. We drove in circles round town for a bit then he drove us home. He explained that heaven is going to descend on earth and humans could not possibly save us from our own destruction. God will save the meek and a way of helping is through education.

First things noticed: the fleece (gray) and his neck tie in the Eighties businessman style. The order of the story as I heard it or as it happened in chronological order? The tie because he’s a Jehovah’s Witness. He had been out cold calling today, knocking on doors, and then he picked up a friend from the ferry and dropped her off at home. He too grew up in Los Angeles, or a suburb of it, Sylmar. The whole first part of the conversation was erased from my memory after he started talking about being a Jehovah’s Witness. I am now remembering we had been talking about the Sylmar dump. Fiona recently took a tour of the Sylmar dump with some friends. He wondered why the heck anyone would do that. But she listed off some interesting things about the dump and he said he had lived right near there. He usually goes knocking on doors Mondays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, Fridays and sometimes Saturdays too. He used the phrase non-witness, referring to someone who hadn’t been converted. I wondered -- did he pick us up because he wanted to see if we might be possible converts or just to spark the thought of Bible and God and the end or beginning of the world. Did he know when he picked us up he’d give us Awake! magazine? It is one of the most popular in the world. There are 43 witnesses on the island, he says. He cold calls on the other islands too, but he wears his tie to do so only on San Juan. He dresses up to knock on doors, he says, holding one hand up towards the rear view mirror and taking a long pause, to show they’re, pause, coming with good intentions. If you went to visit the president you’d wear proper clothes, we’re going before God, he says, so we dress accordingly. Funny he used that example because Fiona used it in exactly the opposite way the other day in explaining how deeply democratic she is with her public nudity. If she were naked and the president was there she’d be like, deal with it, I’m naked. His hands were large and thick or something. I’d like to say workingman’s hands but I didn’t get the impression he was a farmer or blue-collar worker. There were old Awake! and Watchtower magazines from 2012 in the back seat pocket as well as a bag of dice. There was a crumpled Mint Mentos package by my feet and some sort of shoe cleaner brush with a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup wrapper sticking out of it. When he first picked us up he was eating nuts out of a ziplock bag. He’d gesture with his hand clamped half closed on some nuts and speak in between chews. He had a blue and white striped business shirt and his tie he put hanging over the rear view mirror like stuffed good-luck dice. He moved it aside so he could see us in the back, then moved it again later so he could see both of us at the same time. We were talking about LA, Fi asked if he left because of smog. He said, if you’re concerned with the environment like I am, take this, and reached to his side to give us Awake! I knew what it was immediately because someone in Guatemala, a formal sweet man, gave me one in just the same non-sequiter way. Another note I mustn’t forget, the capillaries on the side of his face. Many bright red veins forming rivers next to his ear. He wore glasses, kind of hip city glasses, maroon with rectangular rims.

Pep (Phillip) July 26, 2012 20 minute ride

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What was funny was that I had just talked to her about Hitchhiking: A Magazine before we got in the car. But since then she had taken off her sweater and had tears or sweat on her cheeks. She was put together though, like nice, tortoise shell frames, light pink polo shirt no sleeves and a Honda that looked like a Subaru. The car was completely full of big stuff, dark oak furniture wrapped in towels and canvas chairs designed for camping. Sasha and I shared the front seat. No music. We were high, conversation flowed. I am pretty sure Cathryn took us completely out of her way. I think she thought Hitchhiking: A Magazine was an ongoing series and we went with that. We talked about her being an attorney but preferring to hang out with scientists and we laughed about how law school was kind of like art school in that it shifts the way you relate to people and see the world more profoundly than other degrees. We pulled up near English Camp after getting a description of the Pig War. I felt lucky to hear her use the word defend. I can’t really write about Cathryn because I want to savour thinking about her.

Cathryn has frizzy red chin length hair like an elementary school teacher. We first saw her at the table next to us at the library cursing her computer — I just hate computers. She later apologized for being disruptive but I think we all understood. We left at the same time and she gave us a ride. Her car was full. Fi said, you don’t have room for us, apologetically. But Cathryn insisted so we stuffed some of her things in the backseat including her computer which she said we should just leave on the cement. I sat on Fi’s lap. It was comfortable except my head was squished against the window. I asked about Cathryn’s husband, or the man she’d been sitting next to in the library. Oh he’s not my husband. She fumbled with her words in trying not to explain while explaining. It was the way she had asked him: What time should I pick you up? I’ll pick you up at 6. And how he had responded: Pick me up at 5. Curt, familial. Cathryn hitchhiked once on an island. She’d been warned against it but — what can happen on an island? She pulled over by a field to show us an erratic rock that had been carried there by a glacier thousands of years ago and in the last decade has been painted over and over by students. She recounted the story of the pig casualty in the Pig War and the one and only camel of San Juan Island, then she pointed out the Alpaca farm to our left. She seemed to enjoy explaining these sort of things. She’s a retired attorney now. She’s ALSO from LA. She has plans to travel the world. With Mauricio? I didn’t ask.

Cathryn July 27, 2012 17 minute ride

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Iridescent blue oversize classic truck, cowboy hat, bench seat nothing in the way. Brian jumped straight on my lap and I was in heaven. We did not even think twice on this one but when Mac started talking I started catastrophising. This was the ride, the one where the guy takes us somewhere and does things a bit differently. He spoke very slowly and had grass stained New Balances that had been worn to the point where the squishy sole bulges out the side. Everything in the cab was eerily immaculate but with Brian the softest most beautiful creature on my lap how could this be a bad idea. I noticed Mac’s wedding ring. He was playing the hits. We drove by Montegue his place. Mac was a financial advisor I asked him about the personality traits of a chartered accountant his former occupation. Introverted. Detail orientated. Conscientious. Not sales people. Mac transitioned so he could be more social. I was having thoughts about quiet hospitality and what makes a good leader. It was definitely as Sasha says a transcendent experience. He dropped us off and hung round for a while.

I hoped the big blue vintage truck would stop for us. It was the kind you have fantasies about. Mac looked a bit terrified. Older man, wide eyes, straw hat, Pendleton with elbow patches. Midway through the ride I noticed the radio, 90s hits, Smashmouth was playing. Mac introduced his tiny fluffy dog as Brian the Pomeranian. Brian promptly sat on Fiona’s lap. When he yawned, his ears tucked back. Mac has pale skin on his arms and red skin on his face with scars or pockmarks. But delicate long hands with loose baby skin. Gold braid wedding ring. Big teeth with a moustache. Kind of the opposite of Pep who had the look of a city man but the hands of a workingman. Mac had the workingman gear: old truck, straw hat, plaid, grimy shoes that looked like they had mould growing on them...but untouched hands. An accountant. He had a career change about twenty years ago and became a financial consultant so he’d become a little more outgoing. Fi asked what are some classic CPA traits. He said introverted then thought a bit, long pause, yeah introverted, thought a bit more, but that’s all he had. He breathed in shallowly after each sentence, which usually came out slowly in chunks. He pointed out when we passed his house. A big estate on the waterfront with a glossy drive-through wooden gate that said MONTAGUES. He had a black Swatch watch that he replaces whenever it breaks. Fiona was wearing one too. We got a bit overexcited about that coincidence, perhaps in a patronizing way, and he asked suspiciously if we work for Swatch. I tried to explain that my dad also has been loyal to a certain brand of watch for decades. I asked what kind of work he puts the truck to, and he said that he chops wood in winter and brings it to the less fortunate on the island. We stood outside his car talking or just watching Brian bark at deer and a plane. Oh, Brian doesn’t like planes, he explained. Deer either.

Mac July 27, 2012 19 minute ride

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Hitchhiking: A MagazineEddy July 27, 2012 12 minute ride

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Hitchhiking: A MagazineMadeline July 27, 2012 5 minute ride

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Madeline was about to fall asleep; she had Epsom Salts in the console and dark glasses that covered most of her face. NPR. She had just come from a massage. She lived on the south side of the island opposite the Light House near John, you know? It felt like we got out before we got in.

She moved a carton of Epsom salt from the front seat so I could sit. We would have forgotten her name had we not asked again before we got out. Maybe her tiredness was contagious. She said she was almost falling asleep at the wheel because she’d just come from a ninety-minute massage at Lavandera spa. She had a recent back episode on vacation. On the floor behind her there was a Word doc printout of a baby announcement with a photo of a smiling infant. Please welcome so and so into the world, we’re proud, etc.

Dear Reader,

The contents of this magazine are generated through hitchhiking. Every ride is an article and every episode of rides is an issue. For this series we have been hitchhiking in the San Juan Islands of Puget Sound. The magazine is being distributed physically in increments through the Torrance Art Museum in association with Bakers Dozen 4 and digitally via email as PDFs. In doing this project we will be conscious of the privacy of the people that are sharing their lives with us, which may necessitate changing names and non-deceptive details to protect their confidentiality. We would like to thank you our readers and encourage your comments via email at [email protected]. Most of all we would like to thank the people that have given us rides.

Sincerely,

Sasha Portis & Fiona Connor

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A Lifestyle Magazine : Issue 1 : Summer 2012

Hitchhiking: A MagazineSerena July 31, 2012 15 minute ride

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We were happy to walk for a bit when we got off the ferry. Hitching on the islands is different than what I have experienced before. Here there is no ‘center your self, focus and look non-threatening,’ or elaborate thinking to try and communicate with the person in the car that is zooming past at a hundred miles per hour. Here it is more of a late night ‘throw it out there style,’ like wouldn’t it be funny if - . The high success rate has elevated us into a state of casual buoyancy. Without the hour-long pauses on some patch of road that no one has ever stood beside. We walked over a wooded hill as a Saab drove past in the opposite direction. There was recognition between us like same, same tribal decoding. The guy in the front seat looked like he was getting dressed in the car, and the girl had natural hair and wore Ray Bans. We both agreed they looked fun. We walked on, lots of cars passed us but we were in a ‘take it or leave it’ kind of mood. There was talk of over stimulation. A teenager from the ferry rode by on his bike, then his friend, then another, and another, and and and an. In the middle of all this Serena pulled up. Dire straits, good stride, same page. We started joking instantly about the campers that were biking past. She described why she was on the island, and where she was at in life, in the way you learn how to speak in grad school; self aware, like you have the ability to self diagnose at any time. She had been living in San Francisco and grew up on the East Coast. I could not stop looking at her perfectly proportioned tan wrists. She seamlessly took her sunglasses on and off and made eye contact through the rear view mirror. The sky is so blue it actually looks lavender.

I found myself bragging about how I knew the people we were going to stay with which means I was probably lying a little.

All the cars that passed us attempted to explain why they weren’t stopping with hand gestures: I’m only going up the road, not enough room, not enough time.

A herd of teenagers on bicycles, who had all been on the ferry were zooming by us. We kept making whoops and aw-yeahs but none of them turned or whooped back.

A rattley VW Rabbit awkwardly pulled over into the river of bikes, she was in the wrong gear and almost stalled in the midst. We all laughed before we even got in the car. Sunroof down and moody music playing.

A girl about our age. Tan, post-acne skin, charming overbite that reminded me of my grandfather’s. She had the joy and calmness of someone on vacation but she had been here for two years.

She found a good job and a boyfriend on the island when she wasn’t looking for either. For the first time, having a partner doesn’t feel like a trap to her but an endless opportunity. I believed her when she said she was happy. I could imagine being friends with Serena.

She knew of the people we were going to stay with in West Bay so she took us right to the front door of their sod roof house. A few dogs came out to bark at us. We heaved the metal doors closed and waved goodbye.

LO~G WEEKEND

Anythingto HelpStepping off

thefer[yon

the SUNNYside of Orcas

Island in Pu~etSound, we teel

our E'TERYDAYcares and worries

slip away, There's aquaint vvaterfron~

SPARKLINLIwater, and the

hard choice of

whether togo horseback

or trail riding,hiking orbicyclIng.

HEN YOU'LLGOUP THE HILL, and across the highway."Our innkeeper, Lori Breslauer, is providing directions for a scenic predinner bike

ride. Not only has she arranged to have the rental bikes I reserved from a local shopawaiting us at the Kingfish Inn in Eastsound, Washington, but her directions will takeus to her property on Orcas Island, which is "past the garden, then left on amowed pathand downhill on a trail to a new bridge across a creek."She obviously wasn't kidding when she said "anything to help" on the phone as I

made our reservation, and again upon check-in at the comfortable, unpretentious innshe runs with her husband, Bob,who mans the kitchen. But the Breslauers' 10years onthis low-key emeraldjewel amongPuget Sound's San Juan Islands have clearly alteredtheir perspective. That "highway" we cross, and later take on our return loop, turns outto be avirtually deserted two-lane ribbon of asphalt bordering picturesque farms.Even two davs on Orcas makes a strikinlt break from the workadavworld. The ferrv

Hitchhiking: A MagazineBill & Lena July 31, 2012 8 minute ride

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He is an electrician on the property where we are staying. We had just met him before we walked out to the road. His company car is a huge old blue and silver truck, long as a limo.

His daughter Lena sat next to him in the front seat. Round faced wearing braces or perhaps missing a tooth. She forced a smile and kept to herself. Bill introduced her as his sister then after an awkward silence he admitted she’s his daughter.

Bill had sausage fingers with cracked dirt or was it dirt in his cracked skin. There was a stale smell in the car, I quickly rolled down the window. Fiona was forced to lean back onto a pile of what seemed like kids’ dress up clothes and dirty laundry. There were two re-purposed tomato sauce jars with water and peach halves in them. Two lollipop wrappers on the middle arm rest.

It was a foregone conclusion that he was going to stop for us because we had just talked to him at the barn and he said he wanted to hang out more. But things were a bit different now. He seemed caught off guard when we opened the back door and offered to squeeze in. Lena in the front seat was super cute and shy. They both had matching snacks in the console. A jar of peaches with a white plastic fork and grape sucker wrapper. Next to us on the seat was a mountain of clothes. I was trying not to talk. Our legs were inter-tangled and stuck together with sweat at some point. The rhythm of conversation was slow but knowing and caring. He liked the barn too. It’s made the old way. It’ll be there forever.

Hitchhiking: A MagazineCaroline July 31, 2012 4 minute ride

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We were trying to head towards town. I was beginning to notice my inclination towards old beaters rather than shiny new sedans because overall the rides were more interesting. We saw Caroline’s sixties BMW convertible coming in the opposite direction. We threw our thumbs out and she pulled over. Aren’t you going towards town? Yes but it doesn’t matter, we just want to be in your car. We all laughed uproariously, that lasted us just about to the ferry landing where she dropped us off.

Hitchhiking: A MagazineJonathan July 31, 2012 21 minute ride

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Big smiles. Big White Van. I can’t remember what combination it was, thumb out facing back Sasha in front, thumb out facing forward me taking up the rear. He said ‘I only got a van’ we said, ‘that’s our favorite.’ He had really nice skin, like really nice healthy moist skin and the van was in good shape and this combo meant that this guy is onto something. I started the ride on the floor of the van in a daze, looking at the eight casters of two upturned steel dollies moving in unison like heads bobbing on a bus.

I had a feeling he was telling us more than he would if he met us in a bar due to the liminal timeframe and random encounter.

He used to work super hard. Super high risk. Knows Craig Norson and knows my Dad, in the biz, fifty contracts at a time. Fine furniture, fit outs for the industry down in LA. Does not know Roy McMakin but knows Gesler, Kesler and Keisler. The travelling was the worst. They would bet more money than you can bet in Las Vegas.

But now he, that was twelve years ago, he did not have to work anymore so he quit. I bet he stays busy, he mentioned building his own house, designing all the furniture. He said one of those scripted comments – I got to a point where I was just working for the government so I stopped.

The island. He knows our hosts. He knows where to eat.He was running hot. I touched his arm by accident two times.

A slow breeze to a whirlwind. When we first got in I was visually stimulated, focusing on small things. Two upturned metal furniture spraying stands with all eight wheels spinning at different speeds and directions, like a mobile. As the conversation became more focused on listing the names of famous people on the island, my attention resettled on the golden fields outside my window. He and Fiona were speaking over each other with excitement. John used to have a furniture company that had the Steve Jobs basement beginnings narrative. Then we rolled into town and he gave us a proud father tour, which took no longer than five minutes.

Hitchhiking: A MagazineJoe & Zach July 31, 2012 15 minute ride

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Thanks for stopping. No problem

Where are you going? West Sound

Are you lifers? Yes

Are you brothers? We are twins

Do you go to high school on the Island? Yes we are juniors

How many high schools are there? Two

Are they private of public? Both

Where have you come from? The skate park

Do you skate? No

Do you like video games? Yes

Do you still think it is beautiful here or has it worn off? It’s worn off

Did you paint the roof on the shack this year? No

Which is the most risqué one you have seen? This one

Is it some sort of Mandala? Yes

Do you go to Seattle much? Sometimes

What are your names? Zach and Joe

Do you like sunset or sunrise? Sunset

Is that a Hull house? Don’t know

Do you guys live in an old house or a new house? So-so

Are your parents movie producers? I wish

Do you live on a farm? kinda

The ride could have gone on in utter silence had me and Fiona not been slightly drunk and forced random questions onto the twin teenage boys who picked us up.

Joe and Zach both filled the width of their seats. They both wore basketball shorts. They both had a lisp. They both flipped their respective sun visors up and down in unison as we drove in and out of direct sunlight.

The one on the passangers side clutched an iPod plugged into the sound system, but there was no music playing. There were crushed Red Bull, Monster and diet Mountain Dew cans at our feet and a full jug of water.

When we asked questions the one on the left would answer first and the one on the right would softly echo.

Hitchhiking: A MagazineAndrea August 1, 2012 12 minute ride

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I thought she said she owns a bed and breakfast in Friday Harbor and prepared a series of questions based on that assumption, but I was mistaken and my first few comments fell flat. This reminded me that probably ninety percent of these brief interactions consists of fantasy.

Andrea’s car was her octegenarian grandmother’s who doesn’t drive anymore. Classic old person’s car; smells like a rental, cream leather seats, interior the size of a boat, lots of buttons.

East Sound, where are you going?I am looking for cell reception I am trying to contact my dad in Friday Harbor.[Luxury car snack wrappers in the back]

[Drove past a garden that was not attached to a house that had two young people working. Alongside was a small lean to that said ‘Produce’ on it] What’s that?That is a community garden and roadside stall. It’s a way that people make a little extra money here on the island.

Hitchhiking: A MagazinePeter August 1, 2012 12 minute ride

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Freckly face, olive skin, plump lips, looks like he never shaved a day in his life, football player build, bicep tattoo. He didn’t fit the vintage Mercedes he was driving. Bouncy seats, I said, and thought how hitchhiking lends itself to flirtation. He turned the radio to ‘Buttercup Build Me Up’ and turned the volume above the conversation level. Fiona and I sang along at the top of our lungs. I thought how hitchhiking is like an improv performance, and then felt self-conscious and stopped singing and just looked out the window. He checked his phone in a way you do at a party to show that you are popular. Just before the song ended he turned the volume down suddenly – How long are you guys gonna be on the island? He said three weeks was just the right amount of time, otherwise you start to feel a bit crazy. Growing up here, it’s like once you’ve seen everything, there’s nothing else to see. This profound truism led me to feel, for the first time, the other side of island-ness, claustrophobia. Being stuck on an island rather than escaping to one. I imagined the place through his eyes, the town: how boring with its tourist stores and overly friendly restaurants, the roads: all lead back to the same place, the ferry: pain in the ass. I got a knot in my stomach, why would anyone want to live on an island? But here I am now, sitting at the edge of a lake with perfect temperature water and the sun’s out, why wouldn’t anyone want to live on an island?

WHy do yoU BUIld Me Up BUIld Me UpBUttercUp BaBy jUst to let Me doWn let Me doWnand Mess Me aroUnd and tHen Worst of all Worst of allyoU never call BaBy WHen yoU say yoU WIll say yoU WIllBUt I love yoU stIll I need yoU I need yoUMore tHan anyone darlIn’ yoU knoW tHat I Have froM tHe start

so BUIld Me Up BUIld Me Up BUttercUp don’t Break My Heart I’ll Be over at ten yoU tell Me tIMe and agaIn BUt yoU’re late I WaIt aroUnd and tHen I Went to tHe door I can’t take any More It’s not yoU yoU let Me doWn agaIn

Hitchhiking: A MagazineJames August 1, 2012 2 hour 35 minute ride

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I had a flash of fear that the tone of our experience had gone flat, that we had maxed out the fantasy and landed in reality. But reality was none of our business so we entered a new zone of watery dreams.

He’s the kind of guy who goes on a year-long sailing trip from Sussex to Vancouver and never goes back. He’s the kind of friend who will fly out and cook for you and take care of your kids while you go through cancer treatment after your husband left you in the middle of it all. He’s the kind of guy who takes his daughter on camping trips to tiny islands when she visits from Germany. The kind of guy who keeps beer behind his front seat and buys wine after he shared the beer with two hitchhikers. He’s the kind of guy who takes the kid sticker on a trip to the dentist and puts it on the glove box.


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Hitchhiking: A MagazineDavid & Michael August 1, 2012 12 minute ride

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This ride was like a backstage pass to the show. David was loud. I had no idea what he was talking about most of the time but I liked being in his old Volvo, seeing his hands gesticulate and hearing his exuberant voice. Michael was quiet and burly with a long beard, a newspaper boy cap and faux vintage Amelia Earhart airplane sunglasses with leather sides. I never saw the front of his face. Michael was apparently hitchhiking too. We got excited, how long have you been in the car? He looked at his watch. Oh, about six months. They laughed uproariously. I liked the palette of David’s plaid shirt.

Sorry about the mess -

No we love it; it’s our comfort zone

[Volvo, two men in the front David wearing a purple teal green grey large pattern plaid button up shirt and vest, long grey hair in the back, light blue brushed cotton hat, energy of Jack Nicholson. Younger guy in the passenger seat wearing mountain climbing glasses with leather sides, large ear plug hole, ex-hardcore kid?]

Where are you going?

West Sound. Where are you going?

How was your day?

[Hesitation] Alright.

Why what happened?

I had a relationship realignment conversation.

[Laughter] [UNINTELLIGABLE] guy. By Monday I will

[UNINTELLAGIBLE].

Hitchhiking: A MagazineMark August 1, 2012 8 minute ride

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Hitchhiking: A MagazineAndrea August 2, 2012 13 minute ride

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She picked us up from the same spot. This time she was with her sister and her son, her shy son, Ian. I remembered her mentioning this when we got in her car yesterday too. He had an unusually sweet face. I wanted to tell him, it’s cool to be shy. Andrea’s sister in the front never looked back or acknowledged our presence. Andrea attempted to join her in the conversation — you used to hitchhike right? No, was the only word she spoke during the ride.

This time we got to meet her son Ian and her sister. We got back into Grandma’s car and reported back about goings on since she dropped us off yesterday. She did not manage to get in touch with her Dad.

We were heading to get food, so was she. She had had spotty luck finding the perfect meal on the island; too expensive, not kid friendly, that place that serves Mexican during the day then turns into a Italian Restaurant at night.

Ian and Andrea’s sister did not take part in the conversation. It was a weird situation talking to her with them listening but treating us like we were strangers on the subway. Andrea was warm as toast in comparison.

Hitchhiking: A MagazineNaika August 2, 2012 11 minute ride

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The smell of a yoga studio. A sweet lavendar aroma floated out as I opened the door to the messy interior. It was a clean mess, though. Everything was strewn, nothing placed. All surfaces had things on them. Water jugs, bathing suit flung, picnic basket with a pair of tightie-whities on them, a magazine, a cooler . . Her and her husband had just gotten back from a day trip to the mainland. She offered us a sip from her mug of coffee, we accepted.

She’s a nanny. She’s allergic to the island at this time of year. I gathered that she is from Thailand. She does yoga every day, sometimes she and her husband go sailing for months at a time. I asked if she they get along being stuck on a boat for so long. I’m the easy going one. He drinks, I meditate.

Bright Orange and Yellow dingly-dangly Thai Buddhist charm hanging from the mirror

Aromatic coffee in a car cup that all our lips had touched

Heaps of gallon water bottles everywhere

Angel Lady

*Naika recommends the Orcas Hotel Cafe


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The burgundy leather interior. A dog. A mother. It’s Peter.

It’s awkward feeling like a chauffeur. Yeah I just threw this outfit on, I have no idea what I’m wearing.Yeah, ma, I dropped the hitchhikers off at Deer Harbor, yeah I’m headed back right now. Love you, bye.

I bought him some ice cream.


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Hitchhiking: A MagazineDebrah August 2, 2012 8 minute ride

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She pulled over and her black lab barked ferociously then immediately retreated, puppy eyed and obedient. It was a dog from the property we are staying on. Fiona and I touched her fur from the back seat. We love rides with dogs, they make a good intermediary.

The topic was care packages at sleep away camp. Debrah had just come from Four Winds where she was dropping one off for her nephew. She heard from the office lady that in the first week of camp they had already received three-hundred-and-sixty-two care packages. They had discussed all the unexpected problems caused by an excess of delieveries including raccoon raids and upset campers.

Hitchhiking: A MagazineJake August 2, 2012 14 minute ride

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Clean edge chin strap goatee. A tribal tattoo on his inner bicep. An insanely bulging forearm muscle. A pimped out high up truck. He was in the coast guard for twelve years. He didn’t fit into the culture so he left. He’s a family man. He grew up on the island and returned so his kids could have the same upbringing he did. The only job he found was driving a charter crabbing boat. He doesn’t like having to be on all the time. Two large empty Red Bull cans in the front seat.

Jake lives in a brown shingle house on pilons near East Sound and regrets having to work all summer. He misses the kids like mad. He learned how to host from his folks that grew up in Hawaii and now run the resort on the other side of the island. Growing up on the island imbued him with good values and social scaffolding — Cassandra his wife is a lucky woman.

He effortlessly showed us how to have a conversation with strangers — listen but be there on the pick up. Clear answers. 100%. Well-rounded solid pistachio. He does not mind cleaning the house. The mess he apologized for in the cab was invisible.

Jake finds himself being surrounded by chrome things. He drove his Harley Davidson truck up from Texas. His favorite movie is ‘Hurt Locker.’ Favorite Ice Cream Pralines and Cream. When he goes to barbeques he always brings chicken apple sausages.

The blue display on the dash showed that Tom Petty was up next.

Hitchhiking: A MagazineUnknown August 3, 2012 7 minute ride

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We had our new friend Kayla with us for half the day. She said show me the ropes I’ve never done this before. No Name pulled up and I was stuck in the front with him. I n t o x a - l o c k Breathalyzer, the smell of c i g a r e t t e s , toothless smile. I couldn’t tell if he was talking to me or to himself. H i g h l i g h t s : I’ve picked up some weird hitch hikers…h e r o i n … h e

Sitting in the back of this strange man’s van smelling v a g u e l y of musky cigarettes. For the whole ride my eyes were fixed on his rear view mirror, which perfectly f r a m e d his bushy white Texan moustache and his missing front teeth – I really don’t know what the rest of him looked like. All I heard was s o m e t h i n g about some guy he picked

Mini van there was a time limit Deer Harbor maroon color proceeded by a maroon Volvo door open Cosco Shop picks up all the hitch hikers smelled like my old bosses van missing teeth versed s t o r y t e l l e r heroin cocaine ecstasy he drove that hitchhiker back to the ferry Deer Harbor we were on our way s o m e w h e r e conversation stopped cold your out he walked away


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who was c a r r y i n g Heroin and Coke.

didn’t belong here, so I drove him back to the ferry…there’s a jail on San Juan…one hitchhiker went on about a sixteen year old girl…He parked, flew

out the door and walked off leaving us in the car speechless.

back perfect goodbye done he was out made me think our game was off maybe people that pick you up dread the goodbyes as much as we do maybe they don’t want to have a c o n ve r s a t i o n they are just trying to save the enviroment

Hitchhiking: A MagazineMelissa & Frank August 3, 2012 1 hour 5 minute ride

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I am not sure exactly what the definition of a yacht is but I am on one right now.

I am thinking about the islands before they were colonized by non-native peoples. Before mowed lawns, three tiered windows, docks and imported wood. Before buoys, and kitsch stores and million dollar views.

I’m thinking about how these islands are tops of mountains and if you were to stand where the shore is now millennia ago, you would be overlooking a valley. How us boats are gliding above where that valley would be, criss crossing criss crossing. I’m thinking about underwater trees and if the sun reaches to the land at the bottom of the Sound. And how each mountain has found its contour over millions of years.

Spun stainless steel custom handrails and cleats, white-formed fiberglass with wood trim now framed our view of the ocean and land. Turns out hitchhiking on boats is possible.

We arrived at the dock at 10:15am and were told to return in twenty minutes. We clambered over the boat they were rafted up to and sat on the bow so we would be out of the way.

We pulled away from Deer Harbor and contemplated living on a small island. Our newly adjusted vantage point highlighted vacation homes atop the cliffs and re-aligned our relationship to other leisure crafts.

Melissa, we had spoken to her at length yesterday, a chiropractor. Uncertainty bubbling close to the surface. Frank and her were a little curt not because they were mean but more because they felt too much.

I dangled my feet over the edge. The girls lay belly down on the deck. I thought about friends again and how I did not need certain things in my life the way you do when you are moving forward in spectacular landscape.

I found it odd that the boat lady would never hitchhike but would take three strangers on board. I guess people on their home turf feel more safe. The woman was definitely not into boating, she kept rolling her eyes and making exacerbated faces about the cost. Saying things like “he had to get a bigger boat,” she always seemed flustered and kinda pissy about helping her husband dock the boat and take off.

Hitchhiking: A MagazineKat & Nick August 5, 2012 6 minute ride

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Lopez Island is not as developed as the other islands. We had been told that it was the Peoples Republic of Puget Sound, the most socialist of the islands. People refer to it as Slow-pez. The structures that line Washburn Place and Village Road were built function first in an economic way. Groups of single story detached wood buildings with corrugated or shingle roofs host a handful of proprietors, all linked by lawns and gravel footpaths. From the moment we got off the ferry people seemed comfortable being themselves. A middle-aged guy riding a bike with no shirt on dismounted confidently as he pulled into the ferry line. The traffic conductor laughed when we almost didn’t get off the ferry in time. We walked into an unmanned ticket office and took a free glossy map with a directory of all the businesses on the island, an illustrated local history and a list of telephone numbers similar to a national park brochure. Our ride with Nick and Kat was mellow, no pressure. We were hot. We got in and felt instantly comfortable. Our first question was is there a lake to swim in on the island.

Lopez BookshopIsland Style

Holly B’s BakeryCaffe La BohemeChimera GalleryElephant Revival

Island BodyBuckey’s Café Love Dog Café

C’est La Vie Juice BarFriendly Isle Building

Vortex CaféBlossom Organic Grocery

Larkspur Vintage & Handmade GoodsEdenwild Inn

Déjá Vu Vivid Salon & Spa

Hitchhiking: A MagazineRich & Mel August 5, 2012 24 minute ride

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It was dusk and we were hitching in the opposite direction from where we had left our packs. A couple drove by in a small beige sports SUV then leaned over to consult each other before stopping. He quickly rearranged the back seat before we skooched in. Sasha told them we were exploring the island and would go as far as they took us. Rich had a sunburn and naughty smile. The woman sitting in front of me sat low down in her chair and had a deep authoritarian voice. From where I was sitting I could see a butterfly tattoo on her wrist and could just piece together her face and piercings in the mirror. He kept looking to her for approval about how they were going to frame the encounter. Music up, hands on each other’s knees, thick electric atmosphere skirting round pastures on Lopez. Small farming operations and cottages. A large red tractor passed going in the opposite direction with a young guy driving to the end of his workday.

Four opened packs of hard pack Camel Cigarettes on the floor. I looked at Sasha and felt lucky to be riding in this illicit and completely intoxicating situation. The woman asked us if we had any good drugs and we said that we only had gum. She joked about dropping us off at the Mich House, yeah? We said. It’s a local party house. [Cars scattered in front, stained beige carpet, low light, Tall Boys spread out, no eye contact]

We drove past two vultures picking at a fresh deer carcass. Rich and Mel were killing time until the next ferry. They kept on driving, we trusted them to have our interests at heart, they were certainly showing us a good time.

I saw a woman’s tattooed hand hanging out the window as the car passed and then saw the two people turn to each other to discuss whether or not to pull over. The hand belonged to a sultry woman with a smoker’s voice, a cheekbone piercing and dyed red hair. She wore a hoodie and board shorts with sand all over them. Packs of cigarettes on the ground, an empty beer bottle, Black Keys CD playing. No introductions. The man and the woman gave each other lots of sidelong glances. Her hand was tucked between his legs. They leaned in towards each other and it looked like they were going to start making out. Golden hour, light that you can drink. All four windows down, music turned up. Picturesque rusted truck and collapsed barn by the side of the road, a field of horses and then a field of cows. The woman didn’t say much but everything she said sounded like code for something else. Do you want to go to grandma’s house? There’s a lot of hay in that field. We’re catching the midnight ferry. Yeah, you could say I grew up on the island. I could get a job out here, easy. The only time she looked back at us was to ask if we had any crazy drugs. She insisted we must. No, sorry, just gum. There were sunglasses on the dash that reflected the whole scene so we were driving into ourselves. There was a hand-painted snail hanging from the rear view mirror. It turned as the car swerved and I realized it was actually a Day of the Dead skull with a cigarette in its mouth. Now the woman also had a cigarette in her mouth. She and the driver cooed under their breath and it sounded like they were telling secrets. I never saw the man’s face, he told us to be safe and dropped us off at the last point of civilization before grandma’s house. Seriously, there’s nothing out here, she said. Perfect, I said. We asked their names just before hopping out. Even the way they said their names was illusive.

Hitchhiking: A MagazineChiffana & Ilias August 5, 2012 14 minute ride

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The next car we got into was a 180-degree turn in atmosphere and direction although in pretty much exactly the same shaped beige car.

Above board, sweet, considerate to the point of awkwardness. Young love and Lopez Island was not for them. Neither of them wanted to spell it out but I am guessing it was too quiet, the beaches sucked and the restaurants were always closed. But they were in solidarity on this. They liked each other and we could not keep up. She talked about Vancouver and where she had lived in Calgary. The guy had just been to San Francisco and said it was a world class city. She confidently challenged him and said It depends what you are looking for in a city. Seriously, the skyline and architecture?

We liked Lopez it felt private and difficult to access.

Their joyful quipping skirted the line between BFFs and newly weds. It was the last day of their holiday. Rental cabin. They were set on having hot chocolate while watching the sunset. Their exchange sounded like pillow talk and their sunset hot chocolate dash sounded like a plan they made while still in bed. They asked us a few questions, but most of the talking didn’t leave the front seat.

Chiffana stamped on the break as a huge black vulture flew up from deer carrion on the side of the road. Sorry that was a big bird . . A BIG bird.

After parting we watched the reflection of the fading sky.


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By this time the sun had completely set and all we could tell about an approaching ride was that it had headlights. After they pulled up, we could make out two shaven guys who seemed kind. We offered to get in the back of the new swollen style pearlescent cream truck and lay back in the plastic lined tray. I put my cap back on, which I had taken off to look less shady.

We were grateful to get the ride. As we got out they opened the window and said it’s not far but it’s a start, take care. We thanked them and they pulled away. It was the last car that stopped for us that night. We marched following the white line on a neatly paved road, sometimes arm in arm as the moon rose in the fir stands to our right. Highlight of the day.

We could not really see our arms and legs. When I shut my eyes it was similar to what I saw when I opened them. A slippery transition between interior think space and environment. The air temperature cooled my body to a state of rest.

We didn’t know the island and the island didn’t know us. It was dusk and we were on the edge of not feeling safe hitching anymore. Hardly any cars drove by, but two guys in a long white pickup drove us a mile up the road — Not too far but it’s a start, he said. By that time the last bit of pastel had left the sky and we decided to just walk the four miles back to where we had hid our packs in an uninviting patch of forest between a campground and the road. We ate a banana and walked arm in arm. The cat-eye moon followed our gaze. I looked into the trees to our right and forced myself not to imagine the things that could be inside the darkness there.

Hitchhiking: A MagazineMike August 6, 2012 7 minute ride

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50-foot charter on a dockLopez IslandPuget Sound,Wa. 98250

Dear Mike,

Thanks so much for picking us up. I hope you got through to your friend and got your wi-fi sorted out. You seemed like an onto it guy.

xo Fiona

The man in the old VW camper was going into town to get cell phone service because his line had gone out on the boat. It suddenly hit me that Fiona and I were about to break the seal on island time by returning to the city, while this man was going back to his floating home after making a phone call. We were ultimately diverging, but here we were sitting in the same car going towards the ferry together. About ten minutes later, I saw Mike pull into the parking lot again; he must have thought of another person he had to call.

Hitchhiking: A MagazineCarol August 6, 2012 9 minute ride

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Carol had wise woman wrinkles, leathery skin and a long gray braid. She was missing teeth on both sides. She offered us the back seat but we sat in the truck bed instead. She fussed with the buckets and re-arranged a leaf blower with as much care as if she were having us over for tea in her living room. I closed my eyes most of the way, the wind pushed into my ear and felt like it was passing through to the other side. Carol drove us out of her way and shook our hands long and hard. We tried out our new idea of giving a hand painted sign to each driver that says: Thanks for the Ride. She was warmly receptive, In all my days of hitchhiking I never thought to do this. Her face opened up even more.

Hitchhiking: A MagazineSue & Sonny August 7, 2012 2 hour 21 minute ride

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It does not matter what you call it. Sonny believes in destiny.They don’t normally pick up hitchhikers but when we asked there was

no hesitation. I pegged them as business professionals, educated Seattle-ites, leather interior. He looked up from his phone underneath a baseball cap and she looked up from the paper.

In the first five minutes of the ride he rubbed lotion on his lean hands. I asked if he was a musician. Yes. What do you play? I play the guitar, piano and sing. Oh wow, gotcha.

It was hard to know what was going on. Do you play with any bands? Four or so, and I teach at a school during the week and play at churches on the weekend.

It got deep river pretty quick. Right from What do you guys do? I tried to communicate that artists rely on contingent relationships with their communities and the institutions they work with. And for some reason was compelled to read out an Oscar Wild quote I saw yesterday that rubbed me the wrong way, where he talked about artists operating outside of the racket of supply and demand. Somehow Sue managed to pick up on my train of thought and suggested that it is important to have a little bit of both, she sees artists adding color to society which made me think about blurry grey edges where categories get confused. Then she said something about gift giving.

Our brains were galloping and I did not know how we were going to keep it up. But of course it got more and more lateral. Sonny recorded a song that we wrote and Sasha invited Sue to take a photo on her camera of anything she wanted.

Marvin Gaye double CD tucked in the pocket behind the passenger seat.

Back to destiny. Sonny and Sue believe that us meeting was meant to be, that our meeting was part of a bigger plan. Which I reflected back, was in line with their faith. He asked how we thought about such things? I said that I am not adverse to the idea of a higher power or being but avoided thinking about it as a yes or no question. As far as us all meeting goes, well it was pre-destined in that we were us, and they were them, and we were on the same ferry. And then we both agreed that it was dumb to try and control these things too much. Sasha, what do you think?

The abstract tone we were talking in and the lessons they were reminding us on felt nourishing on our return to the city. The list of digital errands I had prepared now seemed insignificant.

They asked us multiple times about hitchhiking and safety. Sue told us about Ted Bundy and someone else that used hitchhiking to terrorise people. Have you ever met an angel? Yes and so on.

I did not notice the landscape changing. We did not talk about politics, we talked about each other and ourselves simultaneously and as if all things were connected.

We held our ‘Are You Going to Seattle’ sign and walked down the ferry aisles until someone said they would give us a ride. Sue and Sonny were sitting on the same side of the booth fiddling with their iPhones. They both nodded yes after consulting each other with a glance. It was a surprisingly quick exchange.

What do your parents think of you hitchhiking?

We explained the project to them in the car. Sue said, well I would have curled my hair if I knew I was going to be in a magazine. They were concerned about us hitchhiking and told us of a few serial killers who’d killed hitchchikers. I noticed a car next to us on the freeway with a Jack Russel pacing manically from the front to the back window over and over and over and over. Have you ever met an angel?

Quickly we learned they were church-goers. Sonny plays in four church bands every weekend and leads school choirs during the week. They met in church. Sue asked how long we’ve known each other and pointed out that we finish each other’s sentences. She was intermittently checking her email the whole ride, but still seemed fully engaged somehow.

I didn’t fully grasp much of what they were trying to communicate to us because they were using abstract language and skirting around the words God and spirituality. They were interested in us as people and as a unit just as we were interested in them. Sonny spoke slowly and deliberately and his hand gestures were like gears propelling a machine. His questions were like prompts on a test. Do you believe in pre-destiny?

We were all trying to go somewhere together, and didn’t know where or how. Perhaps this tone was set when Sonny said he believed they were destined to meet us, so I expected profundity to occur. They were guided to meet us, he explained, to plant the seed of life and make us aware of things we’ve been taking for granted. They wouldn’t normally do this sort of thing. I worried for a moment that he would begin preaching about Jesus. But I think he was discussing in his own way, the heightened feeling that we all shared so quickly and unexpectedly in the car.

How about you, how do you think about community?

hitchhiking: a magazine

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